Brainsick Soliloquy

In one of his whispering lectures, Prof Guha deviated from Rational Expectations Hypothesis and Robert E Lucas to delve on rains in Kerala. Quite unlike him to be vocal on anything that did not have a bearing on Economics. It did not take us long to diagnose that this conspicuous diversion from Economic Theory to monsoons in Kerala was triggered by Prof Guha’s inherent dislike of the characteristic “24/7 heavy rains” that Kerala experiences nearly all through the monsoons (Onward and Retreating). “It rains tigers and hyenas in Kerala” remarked one smartass sitting at the back of the class much to the displeasure of the proud mallu community. As tense moments passed and signs of an imminent stand off loomed large, Prof Guha quickly got back to Robert E Lucas. I never could comprehend why someone would nurture an aversion towards rain! Especially the kind that Kerala flirted with for a good part of the year.

Incessant rain during the monsoon season (Idavapaathi and Thulavarsham – mal names for the South-West and North-East monsoons respectively) is as much a part of a mallu’s life and psyche as snow/ice is to an Inuit’s. Summer in Kerala is a sickening affair, with high humidity in the atmosphere ensuring that you are bathed in perspiration all through the day. Towards the end of May, the monsoon sets in, bringing much needed relief to the state before it proceeds to rescue the rest of the sub-continent from the clutches of a scorching summer. For the power-starved state, the monsoon heralds in days of no-more-powercuts, pouring in succour to many hydel reservoirs that adorn the hilly catchment areas of the Periyar, Pamba and Nila. The accuracy of the monsoon has always been a source of mystery. Every year, weather forecasters belonging to the motley collection of Indian news channels and our very own Kroordarshan deliberate in length trying their hand at pre-empting the arrival of the monsoon. The monsoon, mischievous and rowdy as only it can be, hoodwinks all the scientific soothsayers and charts its own itinerary. However, I do not recollect a single year when I have reached school without being drenched (completely or partially) on the re-opening day. The monsoon always keeps its date with schoolchildren!

The next 3 months augur unrelenting rainfall, landslides, flooding, little or no sunshine and perpetual dampness for 32 million people of the state. Voices that not-so-long-ago hailed the arrival of rain now turn dissident, cursing the reversal of climatic fortunes. But the monsoon continues unheeded till it has ensured that every inch of parched land is flooded twice over and every umbrella manufacturer reaps rich rewards for upping the advertising ante. “Mazha mazha kuda kuda, mazha vannaal veettil poda!” Not to be dissuaded easily, the retreating monsoon calls on the state on its way out of the sub-continent, this time accompanied by a comprehensive light and sound show (lightning and thunder). Preferential treatment, some may say. All in all, this is the annual rainy recipe for the mallu for a guaranteed period of 6-7 months a year, irrespective of the weather forecaster in Kroordarshan mumbling about low pressure regions, western disturbances and cyclonic storms.

Here in the Deccan, the monsoon is a fleeting month-long phenomenon! Consider how massive a shock the Kerala-style monsoon would be to a Hyderabadi who experiences hardly a hundredth of the rain that a Kochikkaran gets flooded in annually!

As the regional hegemon, India for long has been an interventionist power in Sri Lanka, as the United States has been in Vietnam, Nicaragua, Iraq or Afghanistan. To fulfill “Tamil sentiments” (to garner Tamil votes to be precise), India under Indira Gandhi (in the early 1980s) trained and armed Tamil separatist groups like the EPRLF, PLOTE and LTTE to fight the Sri Lankan Army. While multiple eelam separatists groups were being trained by the Research & Analysis Wing or RAW in the jungles of North-East and Uttaranchal, seeds of bitterness were already sowed as the LTTE whined about step-motherly treatment from Indian agencies.

The LTTE was the least preferred of the eelam groups (as it was deemed to be weak!) and according to RAW estimates the least likely to survive of the 4-5 groups that were then trained. 23 years later, LTTE is the only eelam group that exists, defying all “expectations”. In these two and a half decades, it has decimated all opposing groups, assassinated leaders of states, built a parallel administrative machinery (in LTTE held territory in North and East Sri Lanka) to emerge as one of the most feared militant outfits in the world today.

For me, the Sri Lanka conflict has a personal dimension to it. When the Rajiv Gandhi administration did a complete volte-face in 1987 by deciding to send Indian troops to the island nation with intentions of peace keeping, none of us imagined that our Cheriyettan would be one among the few thousands of IPKF (Indian Peace Keeping Force) personnel to be deployed to maintain a non-existent peace in outright war conditions. With mounting number of instances of the IPKF being shot at and attacked, the peace keeping party turned a full-time combatant force in an alien conflict.

Cheriyettan, or Captain Arun Shankar Kurur, barely 26 years of age, died a hero’s death in Batticaloa district on February 12, 1988 after warding off attack by an LTTE ambush party. He was awarded the Sena Medal posthumously for his gallantry and devotion to duty. Cheriyettan still lives in our memories, as mischievous and dynamic as ever. Nearly 1500 Indian troops died in Sri Lanka, martyrs in a remote battle that was being waged to satisfy political short-sightedness and premature hegemonic intentions. Sri Lanka was India’s very own “Vietnam”!

I have never been the sporty kind. Cricket was the only major sport I indulged in during my school days. Being an exponent of strictly “military medium” bowling a la Mohinder Amarnath, I survived just by bowling slow, slower and slowest balls to intrigued batsmen. Frustrating batsmen with pace (or by the lack of it) was my primary strategy. By the time the ball reached the anxious batsman he would be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. His impatience getting the better of him, he would either voluntarily declare himself out or be beaten by “sheer pace”. So now you know why experts opine about cricket being a mind game!

The lesser spoken about my batting skills, the better. In almost all teams I have played for, I have batted as the last man and lasted for not more than an over. My batting idol was Courtney Walsh for long. Upon Walsh’s retirement I found an impressive alternative in Glen McGrath. But unlike bowling and batting, fielding was my prime area of weakness. Every time the ball sped towards me after caressing the batsman’s willow, I prudently measured the effort required to stop/catch a ball and the consequent benefit that accrued. (I always had an economist within me!). Without fail, the results of the C-B analysis would point towards the futillity of attempting to stop the ball. The captain of the team I played for, always strived to place me in the choicest of fielding positions, where the ball appeared with the regularity of Halley’s Comet. I was happy being an on-field spectator and the captain was ecstatic with my “contribution” to the team’s success!

I did have a short affair with tennis when Fr John Manipadam tried to groom me into becoming the next Boris Becker. It didnt take me long to realise that tennis as a sport is best enjoyed on television especially when Gabriela Sabatini and Steffi Graf played. I was enamoured by table tennis for a short while too, but gave up soon when it became obvious that (the word “tennis” in “table tennis” notwithstanding), pretty women in short skirts didnt play that game. Moreover, it was a battle to claim one’s right to play TT at school. I being the eternal pacifist, gladly made way for more determined exponents of the game to show off their talent.

So it is that very me who was being confronted with a question on my mallu identity and its correlation to football, as alien a game to me as a bath is to Abey Varghese! Of course, I am reasonably conversant with football and the game’s greats. Of course I know that the referee carries a deck of playing cards in his pocket and starts displaying them one by one colour after colour! Of course I know that Beckham is married to one of the Spice Girls and sports weird hairstyles! Of course I know that Pele is the same chap with so long a name that he decided to get it shortened to a bi-syllabic word that is similar to a mal curse word! Of course I know this silly game has worldwide following and is a truly global religious faith! If football is a universal religion, I choose to remain agnostic.

At each stage, I have nurtured different dreams of “what I want to be in life”. (“What I want to be in life” in this context points to either a primary occupation, or a way of life or both. This can be considered to be synonymous to a career from a “grown-up” point of view. After all, when you are 6 years old a formal career is the last thing on your mind, unless you are scribbling a school composition on the topic “My ambition” )

When I was 3 years old….. I was happy with what I was! (I don’t think I ever had anything in mind then. I was happily “living in the present moment” without being initiated into an Art of Living course. Neither did I have to read Eckhart Tolle to realise the “Power of Now”!)

When I was 6 years old….. I wanted to be a bus driver!

When I was 9 years old….. I wanted to be Phantom! (inspired by Indrajal comics)

When I was 12 years old….. I wanted to be a cricketer!

When I was 15 years old….. I wanted to be a doctor and an engineer! (As confused as only a 15 year old could be. Time machine, take me back to when I was 15 and I would be as uncertain today, as I was then!)

When I was 18 years old….. I wanted to be a developmental economist!

When I was 21 years old….. I wanted to be a defence journalist!

When I was 24 years old….. I wanted to be an entrepreneur!

When I was 27 years old….. I wanted to be a marketing professional!

Now at 30 I am a CRM Consultant, who wants to be 3 years old again!