Issue No 94 June 2009

Editorial

There has been so much newsprint used up by the scare of the pandemic hitting us. I did not know the difference between pandemic and epidemic, so I asked my wife if she knew. She said, “I think, pandemic is global and epidemic is local”. Sounded plausible, but the words “I think” preceding her statement made me do a double check. She was right after all, as wives usually are if they are within earshot! It’s a pity that people returning from the US after a holiday and found carrying the bug should be incarcerated in a Government Hospital as prisoners without a fan or AC and dirty toilets. Isolating such patients is fine, but why should they not have the option to choose a private hospital? Obviously, a person travelling to the US is not of modest means and should have this option. Alas ! The trip to the land of plenty has turned out for many as the land of the plentiful alpha-numeric H1N1, the term used for the dreaded virus which causes swine flu. For a change the advisory from the health minister is to avoid travelling to the US. At last India scores a point, though not in cricket.

The much heralded Indian team, who were the hot favourites to lift the crown in the 20-20 World Cup, came a cropper. All the analysis that I have read about or heard on TV has not hit the nail on the head. There is talk that the IPL preceding the World Cup was the reason. How is it Sri Lanka, which had almost the entire team playing in the IPL reached the finals? Then came the news that it was the injuries carried by the Indian team that were the reason for the downfall. Yet, Yuvraj Singh who performed well was carrying an injury and the players who were not carrying injuries did not perform well. The point is we played tactically wrong cricket. Our batsmen scored more runs than the English batsmen, yet we lost. The reason is, we bowled eight more wide balls than England did. If we had bowled the same number of wides, we would have won by 5 runs instead of losing by three runs. We just lacked discipline. Besides, in the shorter version of the game, the slower you bowl the more effective one is in controlling the flow of runs and taking wickets. Indians hardly bowled any slower balls. Even Harbhajan Singh bowled slower with more flight only against South Africa and the result showed. He took three wickets for very few runs. Then of course we were done in by the shorter ball, a weakness of most Indian batsmen and the opposition exploited it well.

Vacation time is over folks! If you didn’t use the opportunity of the summer break to chill out in some hill station, no point moping now. Anyway, travel can be quite stressful these days; you need another break just to restore your tissues. So, as you get ready to go back to school or college, the only pleasant thought you have, is that you are a year senior. There is no better adrenaline rush for a kid than to feel older, quite the opposite of what one feels when one enters the forties. For those who are entering college, count yourself lucky that ragging has become a punishable offence. The horrific turn which the once good natured tradition has taken of late, called for a clamp down. I hope it saves some lives and bruised egos.

People who have moved to Yamuna in the beginning of summer must be wondering why the place is devoid of any activity. Apart from the residents giving in to their want for wanderlust, the dry heat is a dampener, to state an oxymoron. Even the thought of planning an activity is hobbled by sheer inertia. We have to wait until end of September for cultural activities to kick in, although a rain dance in July is on the cards.

The litter between the blocks has come down due to the installation of waste bins, although everybody is not following the advisory. The good part is that the maids and other domestics, who were messing the flower beds with leftovers and pan/gutka sachets, are now using the bins. It is the children who are still discarding the chocolate wrappers, Pepsi or coke bottles in the flower beds or between the blocks. If you, as a resident happen to come across anybody littering, please advise them politely to clean up their act. Quite another form of litter can be witnessed on the terraces. Cigarette butts and empty thinner bottles are strewn in some parts of the terrace. Apparently, a few boys and girls are indulging in substance abuse. For the uninitiated, the thinner vapour, upon ascending the nasal promontory, causes a titillation of the olfactory nerves and sends one into a trance. People are talking about this in hush-hush tones, but why should we give it the fig leaf of social legitimacy and keep it under wraps? While it has not reached alarming proportions – as those indulging in it are a miniscule lot – the mere occurrence of these activities in our precincts is a cause for concern.

One of the residents is extremely aggrieved that we are not according appropriate priority to replacing all the water pipes in the colony. In that person’s opinion we are flirting with danger of contracting some water borne disease. The fact is we are periodically getting the water tested. At present, the water is safe. However, we are all cognizant of the fact that our colony is thirty years old and at some point or other these pipes will corrode and may need replacement. What we have been doing until now is changing the pipe in those places where a breach has been observed. To change all the pipes in one go may require massive resources which the residents may be reluctant to part with. The residents’ health is of paramount importance to the committee and we will not be found wanting in addressing their concerns.

I have received a missive from S. Iyer, the brother of Prema Ramabhadran (B-005), highlighting the environmental concerns of the planet and what we should do to mitigate the ill effects of our rampant exploitation of the environment. This gentleman has travelled extensively around the world and seems to know what he is talking about. One of the salient points of the letter is that we should give a lime wash to the terrace roof whereby the sun’s rays are reflected back to the atmosphere, thereby reducing the impact of global warming. You may well ask what is in it for us. According to him, the temperature of the flat immediately below could come down by as much as 5 degrees and to a lesser extent in the lower flats. This would not only provide you more comfort but also bring down your electricity bill due to lower load on the AC. That’s like killing three birds with one stone ! He has also mentioned that we should install solar panels on the roof. There are other issues also mentioned which will be scanned and put up in the Yamuna blog for everybody to read.

In keeping with their promise of adding a bouquet of products to their inventory, the Yamuna store has introduced energy saving CFL lamps. July could see the introduction of stationery items.

Michael Jackson, one of the most kinetic of stage performers but conversely, almost angelic in real life, is no more. He thrilled legions of acolytes. Long live the king!

CORRIGENDUM

In the last issue of the Chronicle, I had mentioned that a couple of students who have strong connections with Yamuna have done extremely well in the Board exams. Shashank’s name was one of them. This reference of Shashank Sharma having “strong connections” with Yamuna did not go very well with his grandfather, Mr. T.A.R. Nair, who sent me a note with school I-Card proof, asserting that Shashank was indeed a resident of Yamuna. I told him on the phone that my inference was drawn by Shashank’s name not having been provided for inclusion in the Yamuna Directory and also because his parents live in Aravalli Apartments. In any case, I apologized for the inadvertent error. Mr. Nair was not mollified and wanted me to apologize in writing, which is why I am regretting the error in the corrigendum. The full content of Mr. T.A.R. Nair and Mrs. Kamalam Nair’s note is on the notice board and in the Society Office.

SNIPPETS

Ankit Mehrotra’s face did not ring a bell when I spotted him in the parking lot, fixing the tyre of his car. When I asked him if he had moved in recently he nodded in the affirmative. Ankit, a Senior Analyst with Oracle and his wife Sheetal, a Company Secretary with Jubilant Organosys have moved into G-305 from Lajpat Nagar. Ankit loves to play soccer, TT and lawn tennis. Both love to travel and Sheetal loves to cook. You may however, have to wait until the next pot luck to sample her cooking. No patter of little feet in the house, though, as they have been married only a year and a half.

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Arti Umapathy of D-104, is going quite international. After a stint of studying and working in Australia, she is destined to move to the western hemisphere. She got engaged on 14th June to Dinkar Vasudevan, an IIT alumnus who did his PhD in Network and Telecommunication in Switzerland. He has since secured a job as a Research Fellow in Menouth, Ireland – a town near Dublin. Irrespective of whether you are a Shamrock Rovers fan or not, Arti can treat you to some Bailey’s Irish Cream, if you are Dublin bound. Wedding is slated for the spring of 2010, in Yamuna.

Letter to the Editor

Dear Sir,

I used to work for Environmental Protection Agency of Australia in their Sydney office (now I am employed in Singapore) and currently in Delhi en route to Mumbai to attend a family wedding. I happened to come across your well-written editorial (May 09 issue) and I compliment you for both the contents and good English, which is a rarity even in Indian English dailies! Today being World Environment Day, I would like to bring a few environmental issues to your notice.

Yamuna Apts, though by itself an oasis, has been sandwiched between the rich GK-II residents and slums of Govindpuri and poorly maintained new middle class DDA flats around our society. One example of very poor hygienic standards is the ground just behind Yamuna. For our residents, access to Yamuna- constructed temple is very bad. It seems that the only way is to build a Bailey Bamboo bridge above ground (1 meter) all the way from rear gate of Yamuna to the temple gates, with provision to lock up both ends of the bridge from sunset to next day sunrise!

1. The unbearable heat of Delhi seems to not abate, so before the ONSET of next summer, please get the entire roofs of all the blocks painted by white lime. This is an effective way to reflect 65% of the directly falling sunrays and brings down the temp by 5-6 deg. Celsius, even during the peak sunshine hours.

2. Similarly, the main wall along the road from St George’s School to Alaknanda market needs to be more protected from dust, pollution, noise of ever increasing vehicles, by erecting all along the front wall, white ad boards of either banks or telecom companies. It will also generate additional revenue for Yamuna Society. This will keep all forms of pollution, dust and noise away from Yamuna residents.

3. While rain harvesting idea is very good, with such excess sunshine, Yamuna should go for rooftop solar panels to generate electricity for its residents and security lights. Even coolers and fans can be run on solar electricity. Similarly, the guards should be provided with plastic wall mounted fans run on solar panels which would be an incentive for them to keep solar panels periodically cleaned up from dust and other particles.

4. A sign board/site map near the gate should be provided with lights for use at night for all visitors to make their way through the colony, which has a peculiar layout and NO display of flat numbers easily visible, even to residents!

5. Finally, with cars getting bigger in size and more in numbers, their parking is proving to be a nightmare for residents, as there is NIL access to main gate from their own flats! Even OLD and frail nursing home residents in Australia have better access to main gate! B-Block residents can barely carry their luggage or bags across the parked vehicles to catch a taxi for rail/air journey! We may have to do something about this URGENTLY!

Thanks,

Sidharth Iyer (B-005)

YAMUNA’S TREES

The Common Fig (Ficus Carica)

The common fig (Ficus carica) is a large shrub or small tree native to southwest Asia and the eastern Mediterranean region (from Greece to Turkey). It grows to a height of 6.9–10 m (23–33 ft) tall. It is widely grown for its edible fruit in Iran and Pakistan, the Mediterranean region and other areas of the world with a similar climate. If you’ve always thought the fig is a fruit, think again! It’s actually a flower, termed as an inflorescence or arrangement of multiple flowers. Actually, it’s a false fruit, in which the flowers and seeds grow together to form a single mass.

Figs go way back into history. The edible fig is one of the first plants that were cultivated by humans. Fig fossils were found in the early Neolithic village Gilgal I (in the Jordan Valley, 13 km north of Jericho). It is thought that fig cultivation perhaps preceded that of wheat, barley, and legumes by 1000 years.and may thus be the first known instance of agriculture.

Figs were a common food source for the Romans.

Remember your Bible stories? In the story of Creation, Adam and Eve covered themselves with fig leaves after eating the forbidden apple and being banished from Paradise.

The fig also pops up in the Quran, praised by the Prophet Muhammad himself, thus, "If I had to mention a fruit that descended from paradise, I would say this is it because the paradisiacal fruits do not have pits...”

Another interesting fact – the word ‘sycophant’ means ‘showing the figs’, from the Greek sýkon, "fig", and phaínō, "to show". In ancient Athens, the law forbade the export of these fruits. The term was used to refer to those who informed against people who broke the law or stole the fruit of the sacred fig trees.

From the nutritional angle, figs are veritable superstars. They’re loaded with calcium and fibre. Dried figs are richest in fibre, copper, manganese, magnesium, potassium, calcium, and vitamin K and antioxidants.

Now for the big question: can you guess in which part of Yamuna this tree grows ? Regular Yamuna walkers and long time residents will surely know; as for the rest, if you aren’t up to it, ‘walk’ your fingers down to the bottom of this post for the answer!

MIRTH CORNER

The Vagaries of English

Let's face it - English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant, nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren't invented in England or French fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren't sweet, are meat. We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.

And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth, beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 Meese? One index, 2 indices? Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it? If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? Sometimes I think all the English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell?

How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which, an alarm goes off by going on.

English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race, which, of course, is not a race at all. That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible.

PS. - Why doesn't 'Buick' rhyme with ‘quick’?

(Author unknown)

The story of my life

"The Travails of Single South Indian men of conservative upbringing" or "Why we don't get any..."

Yet another action packed weekend in Mumbai, full of fun, frolic and introspection. I have learnt many things. For example having money when none of your friends have any is as good as not having any. And after spending much time in movie theatres, cafes and restaurants I have gathered many insights into the endless monotony that is the love life of South Indian men. What I have unearthed is most disheartening. Disheartening because comprehension of these truths will not change our status anytime soon. However, there is also cause for joy. We never stood a chance anyway. What loads the dice against virile, gallant, well educated, good looking, sincere Mallus and Tams? (Kandus were once among us, but Bangalore has changed all that.)

Our futures are shot to hell as soon as our parents bestow upon us names that are anything but alluring. I cannot imagine a more foolproof way of making sure the child remains single till classified advertisements or that maternal uncle in San Francisco thinks otherwise. Name him "Parthasarathy Venkatachalapathy" and his inherent capability to combat celibacy is obliterated before he could even talk. He will grow to be known as Partha. Before he knows, his smart, seductively named northy classmates start calling him Paratha. No woman in their right minds will go anyway near poor Parthasarathy. His investment banking job doesn't help either. His employer loves him, though. He has no personal life, you see. By this time the Sanjay Singhs and Bobby Khans from his class have small businesses of their own and spend 60% of their lives in discos and pubs. The remaining 40% is spent coochie-cooing with leather and denim clad muses in their penthouse flats on Nepean Sea Road. Business is safely in the hands of the Mallu manager. After all with a name like Blossom Babykutty he can’t use his Rs. 30,000 salary anywhere. Blossom gave up on society when in school , they automatically enrolled him for Cookery Classes. Along with all the girls.

Yes, my dear reader, nomenclature is the first nail in a coffin of neglect and hormonal pandemonium. In a kinder world they would just name the poor southern male child and throw him off the balcony. "Yes, Appa we have named him Goundamani..." THUD. Life would have been less kinder to him anyway.

If all the women the Upadhyays, Kumars, Pintos and, God forbid, the Sens and Roys in the world have met were distributed amongst the Arunkumars, Vadukuts and Chandramogans we would all be merry Casanovas with 3 to 4 pretty things on each arm. But alas, it is not to be. Of course the South Indian women have no such issues. They have names which are like sweet poetry to the ravenous northie hormone tanks. Picture this: "Welcome, and this is my family. This is my daughter Poorni (what a sweet name!!) and my son Ponnalagusamy (er.. hello..).." Cyanide would not be fast enough for poor Samy. Nothing Samy does will help him. He can pump iron, drive fast cars and wear snazzy clothes, but against a brain dead dude called Arjun Singhania he has as much chance of getting any as a Benedictine Monk in a Saharan seminary.

Couple this with the other failures that have plagued our existence. Any attempt at spiking hair with gel fails miserably. In an hour I have a crown of greasy, smelly fibrous mush. My night ends there. However the northy just has to scream "Wakaw!!!" and you have to peel the women off him to let him breathe. In a disco, while we can manage the medium hip shake with neck curls, once the Bhangra starts pumping, we are as fluid as cement and gravel in a mixer. Karan Kapoor or Jatin Thapar in the low cut jeans with chaddi strap showing and see through shirt throws his elbows perfectly, the cynosure of all attention. The women love a man who digs pasta and fondue. But why do they not see the simple pleasures of curd rice and coconut chutney? When poor Senthilnathan opens his tiffin box in the office lunch room , his female co-workers just disappear when they see the tamarind rice and poppadums. They have all rematerialized around Bobby Singh who has ordered in Pizza and Garlic bread.

How can a man like me brought up in roomy lungis and oversized polyester shirts ever walk the walk in painted on jeans (that makes a big impression) and neon yellow rib hugging T-shirts? All I can do is don my worn "comfort fit" jeans and floral shirt. Which is pretty low on the "Look at me lady" scale, just above fig leaf skirt and feather headgear a la caveman, and a mite below Khakhi Shirt over a red T-shirt, baggy khakhi pants and white trainers a la Rajni in "Badshah".

Sociologically too the Tam or Mallu man is severely sidelined. An average Tam stud stays in a house with, on average, three grandparents, three sets of uncles and aunts, and over 10 children. Not the ideal atmosphere for some intimacy and some full throated "WHOSE YOUR DADDY!!!" at 3 in the morning. The Mallu guy, of course, is almost always in the Gulf working alone on some onshore oil rig in the desert. Rheumatic elbows, methinks.

Alas dear friends, we are not just meant to set the nights on fire. We are just not built to be "The Ladies Man". The black man has hip hop, the white man has rock, the Southie guy only has idlis and tomato rasam or an NRI account in South Indian Bank, Ernakulam Branch. Alas, as our destiny was determined in one fell swoop by our nomenclature, so will our future be. A nice, arranged little love story. But the agony of course does not end there. On the first night, as the stud sits on his bed finally within touching distance and whispers his sweet desires into her delectable ear, she blushes, turns around and whispers back "But Amma has said only on second Saturdays..."

(The author of this..er..masterpiece is unknown. We hope you enjoyed it. No offence meant to anyone, by the way!)

CALENDAR OF EVENTS - JULY 2009

11^th July

Rain Dance and music

Venue: Main lawn Time: 6.30 pm onwards

(Answer: The fig tree in the picture is in front of Kashu’s canteen (C-Block) . There’s another one among the Ashokas and Gulmohars facing the main road.)