The Perfect Head

"Hair by hair maks the carl bare", says an old Scottish proverb. The head of hair is homo sapiens' crowning glory. It is for this reason that even a little loss of hair on the crown or its whereabouts, makes the young man under it panic. Panic, because this 'thinning process' is famous for its irreversibility.

Baldness, or alopecia, is a gift handed down through the genes. Though it is a harmless physiological disorder, its virtue of giving an illusion of oldness creates an odd feeling in the 'unfortunate' person. Medical science is yet to find an effective cure. In spite of this, we hear of ads with 'before and after' pictures having fooled gullible men. But a shallow "cure" is on the market - the wig!

"Baldy" is a popular pet name for a bald-headed or even a balding man, often referred behind his back. It sounds so nice and smooth!

Baldness is a scourge and nature's malediction, having a potential to affect wedlocks. But when you look at the positive side, it can save the worry about hair-do, hair oil, shampoo and combing time. The head-bath becomes far smoother! But the tall baldy will curse his height when he bumps his vertex against a doorframe. Baldies make the job easier for the barber but there are no concessions on offer. It is hard to identify a hiding-under-a-wig baldy because those wigs look so very natural. But some wear that shame-proud look.

Naked pates are concealed with unique methods. My friend Haridas has grown hair on one side of the head, long enough to arrange those available strands neatly to cover his shiny vertex, from pinna to pinna. He is always armed with a pocket-comb because his enemy is the sudden gust of wind. I have seen another dark middle-aged 'bold' baldy in a crowd. Believe me, he had conspicuously black-dyed his entire head, yes, entire head, to imitate a crop of hair. There are some who start wearing a cap once they notice the receding hairline. It only contributes in hastening the process. The more it is thought of, or looked at in the mirror, the speedier it recedes, up, up and behind!

My pen friend Prabhakaran sent his second picture, five years after the first 'hairy picture'. His top had "blown off". He had given an explanation: "…due to too much study…". He had become a professor. One middle-aged Nayyar from Delhi and I meet for our respective cricket teams, annually. But last time round, his appearance cheated me! After some teasing, he revealed with a wink that he wanted to look younger and so he had undergone a complicated fifteen-thousand-rupee-3-month-"weaving" treatment to his pate. A few others 'run for cover' and buy themselves a wig.

When I was a kid, I used to fondle my grandpa's balding head, which had a traditional "juttu". Why me, he himself was caressing it when he had nothing else to do. Just look at a baby's astonishment when it sees or lays its soft palm on the hard and smooth surface. To kids, most bald men are 'tata'. But agree they wont, even if that poor young fellow is a 'victim' of alopecia. Guess what my balding friend Ravi's most treasured thing? It is his own photograph taken in his "hair-days".

The bald pate is a good site for tattooing too and there have been a few 'bald men clubs' in active existence, enjoying their commonness. Hair or no, what is of value is the content inside the cover, much like a coconut.

Curves are naturally appealing. Ask any cartoonist how they enjoy drawing a Gandhi, Yule Brenner, Churchill, Lenin, Seshan, UR Rao, Anupam Kher, or a Brian Close…. The list goes on. Brian Close, the England Cricket captain revealed when he was bald enough to say that his childhood dream was realized: he had always wished to go bald whenever his mother pulled his hair.

Samuel Hoffenstein in Songs of Faith in Year After Next says:

Babies haven't any hair;
Old men's heads are just as bare;
Between the cradle and the grave
Lies a haircut and a shave.

God only made so many perfect heads. The rest he covered with hair!


Interesting link about baldies

Somarikatte

SOMAARI KATTE
(Published in weekly supplement, Star of Mysore, November, 2006)

Same also featured here: http://www.ourkarnataka.com/Articles/starofmysore/katte1.htm
~~~~~~
By nature, man is a social animal. It is this natural instinct that pushes him to be with other people as and when he can almost all of his waking hours, be it with family or friends. Mysore's salubrious atmosphere has been typically most suitable for lazing and relaxing. The Maharajas have even arranged lovely stone platforms and benches, called kattes in convenient places which has bred so many somaaris!

All the somaaris (lazybones) need is such kattes to sit. They usually are in convenient locations usually in their houses' vicinity. It has been a popular practice, almost a sacred tradition in our city, to spend time that way, usually after the day's college/work. A small group of people of differing wavelengths (otherwise it will be dull!) somehow get together and a somaari katte is thus formed. Its formation almost goes unnoticed. The simple qualification is that all have to be somaaris. Sometimes attending the katte sessions gets priority over other works on hand, even studies! There can be danger of shortage of attendance too! Somehow, time is squeezed in for this. Such is its force of attraction.

Many somaari kattes are in vogue for many decades! Age or status is no bar (gender is!). Somaari kattes function usually from dusk and extend as late as 10 or 11pm (Sundays, there can be morning sessions) depending the hotness of the topics. Topics are not set. They keep diverting as they branch about. All subjects under the sun come up. Members voice their views in their own style, freely. At times, leading to healthy arguments and also unhealthy, leading to quarrels. The next session, they are friends again, even if the controversy resurfaces.

New ideas crop up in free discussions at the katte, unlike probably at formal meetings. One remarkable discussion was the cause of the formation of The Mysore Gymkhana in 1936. It happened in one such session on the stone steps in front of the then University Union building facing the Maharaja's College ground where a group of youngsters were chatting in the evening. Sri M.Ananthaswami Rau, now 90, is a living witness. There must surely have been many such starting points at many other kattes too.

There was one somaari katte in the 60s on Gita Road that was quite popular - among the members, but not the neighbourhood for obvious reasons like eve-teasing, loud speaking...... Of course now it is dead, since they have got their own responsibilities or have moved away. There is another, much dignified, still in vogue, almost a next generation, close to this where yours truly is a 'member' for almost 3 decades. Most of us are connected to The Mysore Gymkhana and Javagal Srinath also makes it a point to attend whenever he is in the city even now. As I have noticed, this somaari katte culture has been partly responsible in building team spirit which has helped us win many cricket matches! Another now extinct katte was quite notorious to the same neighbourhood where even the police had to be called in to pull them up more than twice.

Older group of men choose bus shelters, closed-shop steps, stone benchs under trees, even on the road's kerb stones (now heavy traffic disallows this). Often, sentimental attachments grow towards the katte. Younger members that have moved away and visiting after a long while crave to see the spot where a lot of their happy evening hours were spent while his knowledge expanded.

Time spent at the somaari katte could be rejuvenating, inspiring, entertaining and enriching experiences, each evening having its own charm. A katte culture is unthinkable outside India where many from the city have traveled for greener pastures. Loneliness is a common ailment for them as they don't get to experience this katte culture and this is one thing they miss badly. The somaaris may be doing physically nothing at the katte but then those that know first hand its fun, beauty and real value, can say with pride that they are indeed the lucky ones! It is better than any TV channel and you need not click any button! Long live somaari kattes!

K.R.DINAKAR
Mysore

Horn 'musicians' in traffic

We have all manner of pollution these days affecting our senses. Noise pollution is one of them which silently bothers many people (including the traffic policemen) with stress and depression leading to many diseases. Noise may be from moving vehicles, blaring horns and even from "music" played in those four-wheelers. Making noise is almost a habit and a fashion! We can notice many two and four-wheeler drivers simply honking horns usually for no sensible reason, in such a 'tone' (in Morse Code terms, using only frequent 'dashes' instead of a 'dot') that some big buffalo is standing right in front, forgetting that other vehicles too are moving ahead with them! Does this not look silly? Oftentimes, they honk the horn without even analyzing the availability of space for the other fellow to leave for him. They press the button simply because they have the facility! The horn is usually a loud one which always annoys the one in front and not the one using it. There are some countries where the the horn is used most judiciously because there, sounding the horn is considered an insult. But then, does this affect us people living among insults and having utter disregard to others?! More than real urgency, it is their restless and want-to-be-ahead-of-others attitude that prompts such unmindful honking. Since there is no punishment for these trivialities, I think, at best, the authorities should strictly instruct and educate all prospective DL applicants about good driving ethics and discriminate use of the horn which may greatly contribute in reducing the decibel level of noise pollution. There are so many good things that the authorities can do, but then who cares?

Gesturing in Traffic

Nowadays, most of us find ourselves contributing our all to the already chock-a-block traffic. Even grandmothers are out driving merrily on the road! We barge around, just because we have vehicles often compromising safety for speed. Pretending to be busy is becoming a habit and a fashion. Perhaps, the pace and style of 'Kaliyuga life' has much to do. Most of us use the wheels instead of legs these days, don't we? In such a chaotic situation, our dear wheeled vehicles are our 'right-hand' things.

Did I say 'right hand'? Let me deviate to the anatomical right hand. Gesturing in traffic to signal intentions by the rider to others, the right hand is [supposed to be] used. It is not an art, but perfunctory. But there are involuntary artists who gesture in their own special manner, the sight of which can tickle the funny bone. The dress may be the index of character; the face, of the mind. Even their gesturing, perhaps. Let's see how some two-wheeler riders show off, or don't.

A certain Menon, a strict disciplinarian, his dress neatly pressed, stretches out his right arm sideways, exactly at 90 degrees to his upright trunk like a cricket umpire signaling a 'no ball'. There are those who do it a la an Ambedkar "action-statue", compelling the onlookers to curiously look in 'that' direction. There are others who exaggerate the angle of the arm, almost pointing skyward, making those around to look up there.

There is one Ratnakar who is of the restless type that gestures in RAM-style -- Rapid Arm Movement, fluttering the arm. Ah, those automen… we should be lucky enough to notice a few curved fingers, half-heartedly jutted out, barely visible from any angle. Then we have these great thinkers-on-wheels, who seem to suddenly wake up from a slumber and remember, bang on the point of making a turn, sending the right arm out in a flash, like a frog's tongue catching prey. Some do it in a startling split-second action like the shutter of a camera. Then there are those who do it in a stiff, military manner, akin to the trafficators of yore.

The over-careful ones, like my friend Suresh, honk the horn every 10 ft., slow down, look up, down and all other directions, at every intersection, make all the signals diligently as if he is a student watched by the teacher. Those speeding adolescents seem to respect and adhere to the proverb "fortune favours the brave"! Their only goal is to cover road-distance and all else is utter nonsense. People riding with shaky rear-view mirrors use an amazing body language that drives home the point, without use of the hand. There are those, who, for unknown reasons make the gesture soon after the event.

We seldom see quiet pillion-riders. Do we? They are arguably, the best 'back seat drivers'. I sometimes take my 88-year-old friend, Shama Rao on my scooter. Restless as he is, waves his right arm far too early. He never gets the point when I ask him to sit still and do nothing.

Once I saw a man showing his intention by stretching his right arm sideways. Nothing special. When about to make the intended turn, lo and behold, he suddenly changed his mind, promptly slowed down and sincerely 'cancelled' that signal by writing a big 'X' in the air and then rode straight.

I have seen some real buffalo-headed riders who neither look at the traffic nor do any signaling. The curmudgeons give such a one a pip with knotted eyebrows if someone errs, but when they are on the wrong side of the right, two hoots.

Mr.Brown, my late friend, was a retired guard in the Railways, led a relaxed, disciplined life. He used to ride his favourite Humber bicycle for short errands. Expectedly, he used the bell and did his prompt signaling while riding it. But renounced using it and wisely turned pedestrian, the very moment he realized that the citizens' road-sense was way too crazy. And he got annoyed being a pedestrian too, after being hit by a cyclist.

Individuality in our actions is always there. Let us not forget to gesture the prescribed signals at the right time without being conscious of the style - the intention is to communicate clearly to avoid confusion and accident. Light indicators must be preferred at night. Signaling while in traffic is as necessary as calling for runs between batting partners while taking runs in cricket. Lest we get 'run out'.

Pray, let some 'horse sense' prevail in our 'road sense'.

National Anthem Music

National Anthem Music

All of us have heard and sung our National Anthem "jana gana mana" at one time or other. But little do we know that the music accompanying it was originally composed as early as in 1943. It was done by Capt.Ram Singh on the request of Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose for the Indian National Army (INA) to be played at the Independence Day celebrations of the country, which Netaji believed was just a matter of time.

Netaji wanted zeal and vigour in the music, to suit a chorous and to match the spirit of the country's independence and the whole task had come as a challenge to Capt. Ram Singh. It was to become the music for the song that later became the National Anthem. Capt. Singh spent sleepless nights to get the right tenor to match the military zest. He focussed attention on the last line "Jai Hay, Jai Hay, Jay Hay" and it was here he could put in that extra pitch to build up the right cresendo. Once the decision was made, Capt. Singh's fingers moved on the keys of his piano until he got just the right note.

The excercise was then repeated before Capt. Mohan Singh, who was heading the unit and who in turn, informed Netaji over the telephone. "Ask Ram Singh to practice and polish the song more" was Netaji's reply. What we hear today is that polished music for our beloved Anthem. Jai Hind!

Dasara Flower Show

Dasara Flower Show

Another favourite rendevouz for locals and tourists alike, aside from the Palace and the Exhibition, during the Dasara festival, is the Horticultural Show at Curzon Park. Do we know that the first of the Mysore Flower Shows was organized 90 years back? It was opened by HH Krishna Raja Wadiyar IV on August 15, 1914. This is what he spoke on that occasion:"It has given me great pleasure to listen to Mr.Krumbiegel's address and I hope that many of you will be impressed by the eloquent appeal which he has made to you to cultivate the hobby of gardening. I feel sure that Mr.Krumbiegel's enthusiasm and artistic taste will make our Mysore Flower Shows as beautiful and attractive as those which he arranges at the Lal Bagh in Bangalore."The Flower Show which I am now opening is the first of its kind that has been held in the City of Mysore and I hope that it will become a regular institution. No one who knows the Cities of Bangalore and Mysore can help noticing the great dearth of gardens in Mysore and there is really no reason for such a state of things. The soil and rainfall of the two places are very similar and I can only hope that the institution of this Flower Show will encourage house-owners here to beautify their homes by cultivating private gardens.... I appeal to the people of this city to try and emulate Bangalore and convert Mysore into a garden city. I now declare this Show to be open".In fact, Mysore WAS a garden city for a few decades hence. Those who have been bitten by the 'gardening bug' will nod that "gardening is the purest of human pleasures, the greatest refreshment to the spirit of man", as Lord Bacon said. Green is important to life on Earth and soothing to the eyes. A green, clean and calm Mysore was what our revered Maharajas intended and strove for. Let us be reminded of their good deeds. The Flower Show is one of them.

[My letter in Star of Mysore, 2006]

Physician's prayer of Kaliyuga

(click on the picture to enlarge and read)

There is much ado about the deteriorating medical ethics these days. Not for nothing such things surface through the public eye. It is, more often than not, the common man who finds himself at the receiving end. Factors that have affected are too varied. But it is not entirely the fault of the doctor.

There used to be (not sure about it now) a chart displayed in a doctors' clinics titled "The Physician's Prayer" containing four sentences. Controversial things related to the medical profession keep falling on our ears, too frequent for comfort, leaving the mind confused, and has probably turned the original Physician's Prayer absurd. The modified (in parenthesis) "kaliyuga prayer" would read thus:

~~Dear Lord, thou Great Physician, I kneel before thee (in spite of my ego), since every good and perfect gift (who else, from my patients) must come from thee, I pray (in spite of my tight schedule at various hospitals and clinics).

~~Give skill to my hands (to prescribe costly drugs), clear vision to my mind (to pretend to deeply study all those expensive and complicated test reports/results), kindness (to divert most of my patients only to 'star' hospitals where I have 'links') and sympathy (hey, what is that?) to my heart.

~~Give singleness of purpose (to amass money swindled from patients poor and rich), strength to lift at least a part (nay, most part) of the burden of my suffering fellow-men (of course, with their wealth) and a true realization of the privilege that is mine (after all, I have paid hefty sums of donations/fees for my education and invested lakhs for sophisticated equipments).

~~Take from my heart all guile and worldliness that with the simple faith of a child I may rely on thee (not applicable!).

The first of 291 aphorisms that Dr. Samuel Hahnemann (founder of Homoeopathy) wrote in his "Organon of Medicine" (early 18th century) says : "The physician's high and only mission is to restore the sick to health, to cure, as it is termed." That shows how high he held the patients' health. The patients' predicament in recent times would have been so very different had the medical practitioners seriously carried forward that legacy. Alas! that was not to be. There may still be a few exceptions around of such ilk as late Dr. MN Jayaram (of Vonti Koppal, Mysore) but they are like pins in a huge haystack. The highly sophisticated equipments have made the highly qualified doctors to suffer from intellectual constipation, allowing monetary greed to get the better of all things. Is there any "cure" for this? The victim is always the hapless common man, who is, more often than not, left in the lurch looking for financial resources!

What a paradox to the very basic principle of this noble profession!

P.S. [Dr.SV Subramanya of Chamarajapuram is another name alongside Dr.Jayaram]