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Over the last couple of years I have come to love the gated community we live in, despite its many drawbacks.
These are like that it is all of 2 km away from the arterial road called the Bombay Highway, the road leading uphill to our place is full of potholes, I need to have a car and spend Rs 40 on petrol just to have a cup of tea @ Rs 5, water is a scarce commodity in the summer months, there is no full power backup, and such endless bitching.
But then it is home to about 400 young software couples with as many infants or toddlers or schoolkids. And the mix is all-India. Most are from the heartland Hindi-speaking states and quite a few have their roots in Bengal with branches from everywhere else. And the Bongs here have come to know that my son and I have a soft corner for Bengal. And so they befriend us delightfully.
The other day we had an invite to the first birthday party of an infant of a Bengali couple and they insisted that I don't give it my usual miss. The party was held in the Godavari of a nearby Celebration Hall Complex having many other halls like Ganga, Yamuna and Krishna.
So my son Sonoo, D-i-L Sailaja, Ishani and I reached there a few minutes before the other guests arrived. Sailaja and Ishani took two chairs in the front row, Sonoo kept loitering like a loose electron saying Hi here and Ho there, while I took my seat in the back row to see without being seen much.
I soon noticed that one end of the dais was piled up neatly with what looked like boxes and bags but couldn't make out what their contents were. The mound had a plaque reading:
And this army made even less sense to an old fog like me till a young parent joined me and said:
"Oh, there's going to be a magic show!"
And then I noticed that a middle-aged woman was sitting by the side of the boxes and smiling toothily at the new arrivals one by one. Her complexion was sable, so I could guess, like the Common Man Comedian in hot waters, that she is from the heartland of the Hyderabad Telugu community.
And as the hall got filled up duly, she took the stage and started her show which was more like a quiz-cum-chat-cum-parlor games-cum magic. I then understood that it was she that was the One Man Army. And I told my son that she better call herself the One Woman Army (OWA)...she was so vivacious.
I started to doze off since my hearing is poor and the hall turned noisy with kids and ladies. Suddenly there was a silence since none could answer her leading question:
"Who is the first Indian Lady to fly abroad?"
And all answers like Indira Gandhi, Vijayalaxmi Pundit and Sarojini Naidu drew a smiley 'No' from her. And folks asked her for a hint and she gave it:
"She was kidnapped"
And my youthful neighbor leapt up with the right answer:
"Sita!"
and went to the stage and collected his prize which turned out to be a 5-Star chocolate bar which was duly grabbed up by his girl kid.
This somewhat woke me up and I started listening keenly. And there were more questions, most of them inane.
And then there was this question:
"What is the Telugu word for 'apple'?"
No one among the few Telugus present could answer it and the OWA coolly pocketed her choco bar.
And then she challenged:
"Every gent here who has his wife's photograph in his wallet, please come upstage!"
And there was a shamed silence from the software giants present, including my son.
I then remembered that I still have my wife's wedding photo in my wallet and so knocked gingerly up to her and showed it off. And she was pleased that an old man was walking away with her 5-Star choco bar and started looking for my (dead) wife in the crowd to congratulate her...
I then said:
"Thanx for the choco bar but tell me what is that Telugu word for apple"
And she said demurely:
"Later on, later on..."
She was keeping her apple up her ample sleeve.
And as I turned back, I found Ishani running in and snatching my choco bar away.
And she joined me expecting more. And she wasn't disappointed. For, soon enough, there was this announcement from our OWA:
"Whoever has the new smallest one rupee coin with them, please come forward!"
And many kids tried showing off the one-rupee coins from their dads' pockets and wallets but were refused the prize since they were neither new nor the smallest. It just happens that I am a coin-collector....no, I don't sit by traffic junctions...I offer a ten rupee note whenever I buy tea, and pocket the change. This is for a reason. Sailaja travels daily by city buses to her workplace at Eurokids and she needs small change all the time...otherwise the bus conductor pockets the change owed to her saying:
"No change, no change!"
like the Mad Hatter in Alice.
So I dug into my pockets and fished out what our OWA wanted and gave it to Ishani who ran up and bagged her choco bar (the one rupee coin was duly returned to her).
After these tidbits, OWA came up with lots of silly parlor games involving couples and so I went back to my woolgathering till I saw Sonoo and Sailaja walk up the stage to join a handful of similar couples. That woke me up and I found that the game consisted in each husband picking up plastic straws from a heap and sticking them one by one into the hairdo of their (respective) wives. Sonoo came second and narrowly missed his choco bar...his score was fifteen in one minute while the winner pushed all of sixteen...
I consoled Sailaja saying:
"The winning lady looks like a porcupine"
Ishani was sort of disappointed but not for long.
I soon saw Sailaja walk up the stage to mingle with a handful of other software wives. The game this time turned out to be this:
Each lady, one by one, has to tell ten aliters fitting their (respective) hubbies. When her turn came, Sailaja was asked:
"Tell me, like, 'my husband is a mango'...and some such ten fruits in one minute...'mango' is out..."
And I found Sailaja reciting happily:
"My husband is a banana, my husband is an orange, my husband is a guava..."
And she happily bagged her ten-fold worth of choco bar...
Women!
And it went on and on keeping the crowd happy enough till our OWA stopped this nonsense and started her magic show.
And she pulled out the usual pigeons and hankies and stuff that is by now routine...after all I watched the legendary P. C. Sorcar (Senior) in the Netaji Auditorium at IIT KGP when I was practically a kid...
And then grub was announced and OWA started packing up her boxes and bags coolly while I was watching her with admiration. After her packing was done and everyone got busy eating, I walked up to her and congratulated her warmly, and she beamed, since no one else bothered to do it.
And then I accosted her:
"You haven't told me the Telugu name for apple!"
And she reluctantly muttered:
"Simla Regu Pandu"
which didn't quite set me afire.
And I looked at her and quizzed:
"Do you know the Telugu name for 'tomato'?"
She was duly electrified and confessed:
"No, no...please tell me!"
And it was my turn to act coy. But I did reveal my ten-choco-bar-worth useless knowledge:
"Rama Mulakkaya"
She thanked me duly and walked away to catch her bus, with a couple of boxes and bags hanging from her hefty arms and shoulders...
What a woman!
***********************************************************************************************************
Over the last couple of years I have come to love the gated community we live in, despite its many drawbacks.
These are like that it is all of 2 km away from the arterial road called the Bombay Highway, the road leading uphill to our place is full of potholes, I need to have a car and spend Rs 40 on petrol just to have a cup of tea @ Rs 5, water is a scarce commodity in the summer months, there is no full power backup, and such endless bitching.
But then it is home to about 400 young software couples with as many infants or toddlers or schoolkids. And the mix is all-India. Most are from the heartland Hindi-speaking states and quite a few have their roots in Bengal with branches from everywhere else. And the Bongs here have come to know that my son and I have a soft corner for Bengal. And so they befriend us delightfully.
The other day we had an invite to the first birthday party of an infant of a Bengali couple and they insisted that I don't give it my usual miss. The party was held in the Godavari of a nearby Celebration Hall Complex having many other halls like Ganga, Yamuna and Krishna.
So my son Sonoo, D-i-L Sailaja, Ishani and I reached there a few minutes before the other guests arrived. Sailaja and Ishani took two chairs in the front row, Sonoo kept loitering like a loose electron saying Hi here and Ho there, while I took my seat in the back row to see without being seen much.
I soon noticed that one end of the dais was piled up neatly with what looked like boxes and bags but couldn't make out what their contents were. The mound had a plaque reading:
'One Man Army'
"Oh, there's going to be a magic show!"
And then I noticed that a middle-aged woman was sitting by the side of the boxes and smiling toothily at the new arrivals one by one. Her complexion was sable, so I could guess, like the Common Man Comedian in hot waters, that she is from the heartland of the Hyderabad Telugu community.
And as the hall got filled up duly, she took the stage and started her show which was more like a quiz-cum-chat-cum-parlor games-cum magic. I then understood that it was she that was the One Man Army. And I told my son that she better call herself the One Woman Army (OWA)...she was so vivacious.
I started to doze off since my hearing is poor and the hall turned noisy with kids and ladies. Suddenly there was a silence since none could answer her leading question:
"Who is the first Indian Lady to fly abroad?"
And all answers like Indira Gandhi, Vijayalaxmi Pundit and Sarojini Naidu drew a smiley 'No' from her. And folks asked her for a hint and she gave it:
"She was kidnapped"
And my youthful neighbor leapt up with the right answer:
"Sita!"
and went to the stage and collected his prize which turned out to be a 5-Star chocolate bar which was duly grabbed up by his girl kid.
This somewhat woke me up and I started listening keenly. And there were more questions, most of them inane.
And then there was this question:
"What is the Telugu word for 'apple'?"
No one among the few Telugus present could answer it and the OWA coolly pocketed her choco bar.
And then she challenged:
"Every gent here who has his wife's photograph in his wallet, please come upstage!"
And there was a shamed silence from the software giants present, including my son.
I then remembered that I still have my wife's wedding photo in my wallet and so knocked gingerly up to her and showed it off. And she was pleased that an old man was walking away with her 5-Star choco bar and started looking for my (dead) wife in the crowd to congratulate her...
I then said:
"Thanx for the choco bar but tell me what is that Telugu word for apple"
And she said demurely:
"Later on, later on..."
She was keeping her apple up her ample sleeve.
And as I turned back, I found Ishani running in and snatching my choco bar away.
And she joined me expecting more. And she wasn't disappointed. For, soon enough, there was this announcement from our OWA:
"Whoever has the new smallest one rupee coin with them, please come forward!"
And many kids tried showing off the one-rupee coins from their dads' pockets and wallets but were refused the prize since they were neither new nor the smallest. It just happens that I am a coin-collector....no, I don't sit by traffic junctions...I offer a ten rupee note whenever I buy tea, and pocket the change. This is for a reason. Sailaja travels daily by city buses to her workplace at Eurokids and she needs small change all the time...otherwise the bus conductor pockets the change owed to her saying:
"No change, no change!"
like the Mad Hatter in Alice.
So I dug into my pockets and fished out what our OWA wanted and gave it to Ishani who ran up and bagged her choco bar (the one rupee coin was duly returned to her).
After these tidbits, OWA came up with lots of silly parlor games involving couples and so I went back to my woolgathering till I saw Sonoo and Sailaja walk up the stage to join a handful of similar couples. That woke me up and I found that the game consisted in each husband picking up plastic straws from a heap and sticking them one by one into the hairdo of their (respective) wives. Sonoo came second and narrowly missed his choco bar...his score was fifteen in one minute while the winner pushed all of sixteen...
I consoled Sailaja saying:
"The winning lady looks like a porcupine"
Ishani was sort of disappointed but not for long.
I soon saw Sailaja walk up the stage to mingle with a handful of other software wives. The game this time turned out to be this:
Each lady, one by one, has to tell ten aliters fitting their (respective) hubbies. When her turn came, Sailaja was asked:
"Tell me, like, 'my husband is a mango'...and some such ten fruits in one minute...'mango' is out..."
And I found Sailaja reciting happily:
"My husband is a banana, my husband is an orange, my husband is a guava..."
And she happily bagged her ten-fold worth of choco bar...
Women!
And it went on and on keeping the crowd happy enough till our OWA stopped this nonsense and started her magic show.
And she pulled out the usual pigeons and hankies and stuff that is by now routine...after all I watched the legendary P. C. Sorcar (Senior) in the Netaji Auditorium at IIT KGP when I was practically a kid...
And then grub was announced and OWA started packing up her boxes and bags coolly while I was watching her with admiration. After her packing was done and everyone got busy eating, I walked up to her and congratulated her warmly, and she beamed, since no one else bothered to do it.
And then I accosted her:
"You haven't told me the Telugu name for apple!"
And she reluctantly muttered:
"Simla Regu Pandu"
which didn't quite set me afire.
And I looked at her and quizzed:
"Do you know the Telugu name for 'tomato'?"
She was duly electrified and confessed:
"No, no...please tell me!"
And it was my turn to act coy. But I did reveal my ten-choco-bar-worth useless knowledge:
"Rama Mulakkaya"
She thanked me duly and walked away to catch her bus, with a couple of boxes and bags hanging from her hefty arms and shoulders...
What a woman!
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