Nostalgia time !

A article worth the read...

Article writer :SAVITHA G.R. writes from Bangalore:

"Growing up in the Eighties"

Where have they gone, I wonder, that batch from "F" section, who will identify with all this.
"What man, eh?" "Come man, eh." "Tell man, eh," still rings in the air some times. "You only", "then only", "giveaa", "yessaaa" were often corrected at home by mom, grandparents, aunts and uncles, but we didn't let go. That was how we spoke.

That was school.

That was typical Bangalore English way back then.

Back in the '80s, there was little pressure to be smart. And so, in our naïve ways, we believed what our classmates told us. We couldn't come home and GoogleT, you see. And so it was that the navilugari story gained credence.

It was a wave, like that Mexican wave in cricket matches.

One girl brought it to class after summer holidays and proudly showed it off to the rest of us. She even told us that the "gari would put mari" (meaning, it would multiply). Now, I can't remember who that girl was, but I certainly wanted to keep one feather in my textbook too.
And then, we waited.

No mari, nothing!

And soon, it was forgotten. We had moved on to other stuff, like collecting pencil shavings to make something out of it, I don't remember what. Was it to make "scent rubber" (the perfumed eraser)? Our notebooks were full of those shavings, our bags were full of that. But we never would make it, eventually.

Showing off collectibles was our greatest source of entertainment those days.

So, classmates would flaunt a new pencil box, mostly of that magnet variety, which only some would have, a new sketch-pen. We would take out the refill once the ink was about to get over, and press the refill hard to get any ink left on to the paper!

I had this great desire to show off, of all things, a weaver bird's nest (from my village) to my classmates.

My thatha had promised he would get me one nest from the village. So, each summer holidays would begin with hope, and end in disappointment. My grandfather never gave me that nest!

Soon, such trifles were glossed over. We were growing up. Maybe, when we were in the fifth or sixth standard, the next new wave had begun. Collecting stamps. So, there was this boy named Shankar Nag (yeah really!) in class, who promised to give me a stamp. And so, I walked up to him. And he did stamp my foot really hard!!

But, collecting stamps was an all-consuming madness. The times when Rajeshwari would lend me stamps, or I would lend her some. The deal was: two less important stamps for one rare stamp. So, some of us would go for the numbers, while the others for the rarity.

"Nanage rare stamp siktu!" we would exclaim. This deal would constantly happen, at lunch break, between classes, during class. Much politics, many complaints, much anger, several fights would follow.

We had so many British stamps and we would constantly palm them off to unsuspecting victims, in exchange for the highly rated Magyar Posta (Hungary) stamps or CCCP (erstwhile USSR) stamps.

CCCP brings back memories of the days of Russian books. Growing up in the eighties, that was another passion for me, collecting those Russian publications (they were so inexpensive then). And hence, the innumerable trips to Navakarnataka in Majestic.

I still remember that colourful Russian alphabet (after the English version) and pictures. And that page about sending in your feedback to some obscure Moscow address. The Ukranian Folk Tales was a big fat book that we would re-read so often!

So, if that was about collecting stuff, other memories abound. Of the games we played: Kalla-police, kallu mannu (in-out), topi beka topi (in school), maneyaata, panna, lagori, chur chand..

Panna was a strange game, where we would have to take a bet with someone, and every time we'd meet that person, we would hit that person hard and shout 'panna'. Whoever said 'panna' first would be the winner for that particular time we met. Now, why or how it was called panna, I don't know!

Does anyone remember, "Ajji mane kaayangilla, Bajji madkondu tinnangilla!" a slogan that meant no dilly-dallying during kalla-police, or "ice-spice" (I spy)! And 'oofi' meant foul! The loser would be jeered back home with shouts of "sotpurka soutekayi"!

Nicknames were another source of fun. Kencha, dhadiya, nalakk kannu (for the spectacled ones), and the big guy opposite my house would call my two plaits kottambari soppu!

If T-20 is the flavour of the season now, our favourite was a very innovative form of cricket. Played without a bat, ball, wickets. All we needed was a big fat book. Book cricket. Any page number that would end with eight would fetch one run. We'd form our teams and play the game by slamming the book on and off!

A page that would end with zero was a wicket!

The game would go on even during a class, and was a nuisance to our teachers!

Summer holidays meant sleepy afternoons. Being lulled into sleep, even as ajji would be arguing with a steel patre saman fellow (gatti jarinappa, yenu agilla!), or making kodubale, chakkli or haal bayi. ("Nidde madi edda mele ondhu tamashe kodthini!)

Nothing would be more satisfying than gulping down the bakery stuff that amma would bring on the way back from office from one of the ubiquitous Iyengar Bakeries. Benne biscuit, khara biscuit, puff, dil-pasand, dil-kush, and that perennial favourite palya bun!

Summers also meant eating "Pepsi" (those multi-coloured long tubes with flavoured ice) or son-papdi, from the vendor with the ghante.

Then, there would be errands. "Kaka angadi hogi kadle hittu togondu baa," meant there would be bonda in the evening. Or "Shivanna angadi hogi hurigadale togondu baa." Or getting milk in the evenings from the milk booth. Or accompanying friends to the "mishan" (flour mill) for getting "godhi hittu" or "ragi hittu" done. A long rubber pipe would be shaken vigourously before the godhi would be fed, and there was the invariable "ghatu."

Going to the post-office was another important errand. We had to get postage stamps worth some rupees for grandfather every now and then. Standing in front of that counter and reaching out to the woman there was quite scary. Then, there was the constant fear of whether we had put the covers in the right dabba, one marked local and the other metro, I think.

Then, there were other demands. Finishing holiday home-work, buying KG cardboard from Madeshwara angadi, for the posters, buying ice-cream kaddi for craft.

If it was the cricket season, then there would be radio in the background. Growing up with "mamas" for whom cricket was also about Ranji cricket was fun. Tagging along with them to the stadium and watching those Hyderabad vs Karnataka, or Tamil Nadu vs Karnataka Ranji matches at the Chinnaswamy.

I vaguely remember a match where Vivek Jaisimha made his debut, made a duck and walked back to the pavilion. Another international match where Mohinder Amarnath walked in, red kerchief peeping out of his pocket, and walked back, first ball out!

Yet another India vs Pakistan test match, with the iconic Imran Khan! Another one where we were told by an aunt that we'd get a piece of the home-made sweet, if Ravi Shastri hit a six, which he never did! (think it was India vs New Zealand at the Chinnaswamy).

Soon, high school was just round the corner. And from there, it was the beginning of the end of the simple, carefree life. Rajiv Gandhi was shot dead killed, the USSR disintegrated, Sunil Gavaskar and Viv Richards had retired, the markets opened, and life changed forever. Heartbreakingly, achingly so.
No more "sihi kahi, sihi kahi sihi kahi", no more cries of "rare stamp siktu", no more Shrimathi miss, no more Prema miss, no more KLG, BLM, RLN, TRS, CSV, (any VVS alumni?), no more Raje (where is she now?). My thatha is no more too (you never gave us that weaver bird nest!)
The world had changed and the children of the Eighties had grown up. Where are the little Madhus and the Vidyas?

Can someone bring it all back for me, please?

The glory days of Vijayanagar of the eighties?

And the New Public English School of the eighties?

Sucking up to Life !

LOL.. do I look like a sucker... hahahaha. man yesterday I received a mail from an unknown person from the mail ID joyphilp32@yahoo.com. please read the below you will understand...

1st Mail from Joy Philp ( Looks related to some royal family...lol hahahaha)

Hi,

My name isJoy,am a young girl of 23years old,single and never married before,am 5.7ft tall,Slim stature,open minded,honest,trusted,and caring and just to mention but a little.I hope honesty and trust they say build a strong relationship.That is why I have the confident to write you this brief mail.

Though we have not meet each other before but I have the believe that it takes nothing for one to know one..I will like to hear from you so that we can get to know better and would send you my pictures soos as I receive your reply.you can reach me through my email address:

I am not of the beauty type but I think I have the beauty of the mind.Feel free and contact me if you are of good and decent origin. I do not care were my kind of friend comes from provided he/she is a decent person.
Please I'm waiting eagerly to see your mail soon.

Remain healthy

Yours Sincerely,


Joy


For which I responded polietly...


Thanks Joy for your mail. May I know where you got my email ID? You should be someone I know or someone who knows one of my friend. Who are you? Where are you from? What do you do? and who gave you this mail ID?

S


Again I got the below mail today...what a joke...

My Dearest Darling,


Thanks for your reply to my mail. How are you today and how about your health? Hope you are fine and good, if so thanks be to God.


I'm Miss Joy Kennedy, the only daughter of the formal Adviser to the formal President, Charles Taylor of Liberian. Doctor Philip Kennedy, On Nov 24th 2006 my Father was involved in a ghastly auto accident in Michigan United States of America which led to his death.

During tenure my Father collected $6.700, 000.00 (six million Seven hundred thousand US dollars) for crude oil allocation given to him by the Liberian government then before his death, this money my father deposited it in his foreign domiciliary bank account and for security reasons,my father used my name as the beneficiary/next of kin to this deposit.


Before my father gave up the ghost he advised me not to move the money back to Liberia because of the present government intervention, so I have decided to move it to a foreign country where I'll invest, establish myself and complete my education.

Consider my situation as an Orphan and come to my rescue, I want you to help me, I will offer you 10% of the money as reward for assisting me while 5% has been mapped out for any expenses incurred during the course of this transaction as the remaining part of the money will be used for good investments in your country under your care when the bank transferred the money into your bank account.


I am constrained to contact you because of the maltreatment which am receiving from my step mother. She planned to take away all my late father's treasury and properties from me
since the unexpected death of my beloved Father.

Meanwhile I wanted to escape to the Europe but she hides away my international passport and other valuable traveling documents. Luckily for me she did not discover where I kept my fathers File which contains important documents. So I decided to run to the refugee camp where I am presently seeking asylum under the United Nations High Commission for the Refugee here in Dakar, Republic of Senegal.this is the reason why I contacted you personally for a long term business relationship and investment assistance in your Country.


Please all communications should be through this email address only for confidential purposes. As soon as I receive your positive response showing your interest I will put things into action immediately. In the light of the above, I shall appreciate an urgent message from you indicating your ability and willingness to handle this transaction sincerely. I am staying at the female hostel here in the refugee camp. Awaiting your urgent and positive response.


Please do keep this only to yourself, please I beg you not to disclose it to anyone till I come over to your country once the bank transfered the money into your bank account,just because I don't want anything to happen to me here in this refugee camp.

Let your heart and goodness be guarded towards me.

Yours Sincerely,

Joy


Now, can anyone tell me am I a sucker?...hahaha... man this is the heights... who the F#$% is going to even get into this S$%^? Not me really... these are people from somewhere who think the world is full of suckers and someone will fall for this trap.

All you people out there be careful and cautious of these kind of mails, these are fake and they tend to miserably take our hard earned money. Be aware... :) hahahaha I still cant believe I might have been looked as a sucker... heheheh... god bless this lady... for I am going to respond to her second mail, which is not pleasant and I dont want to post it here...

Finally The Traveller

Here are few shots of the Traveller himself from the trip... :)

New York - New Year

First I thought I cant go to Times square due to the bluster night and the freezing cold. Then when I saw on the TV that hundreds of thousands of NY city revelers gathering around TS, I was like what the F%^&. Let me go, by the way my purpose of NY trip was to celebrate NY eve at TS. Actually about 7 blocks in and around Times square were blocked by 2pm and by 5pm on 31st Dec and no was allowed inside without a pass (pass was provided to the residents in and around times square by the cops). So, I didnt know how to go through to times square, finally one of my sister friend had an apartment just a stones throw away from TS. We called him up and got an enter into the TS lanes. All our friends met at his apartment first and when I say friends, we had few friends who were studying in Virginia and DC from bangalore who also dropped by. At about 11:30pm we walked down from his apartment and went into the cheering crowd, there was live music and a lot of singing and celebration in the air. Finally former President Bill Clinton and Sen. Hillary Clinton with Mayor Michael lowered the famous waterford crystal ball when it was about 60 sec countdown to midnight, a massive amount of confetti rained down as we hugged, screamed and kissed people around. Thought the place was covered with plastic bottles and junk all around, due to the fact that people were waiting for the ball drop for a long time and the whole place was a mess.

The ball drop was an amazing experience Few pictures from the last day of 2008...By the way Happy New year to you all. Hope you have a wonderful year ahead.