Anecdotes from Iraq

1. “What is in a name?”

What is in a name? In Northern India they politely ask you, ”What is your good name, Sir?”. Initially I thought they already knew my bad name and wanted to know the good one for public use. Later it dawned on me that there was no such implication. They simply wanted to know my name, which, of course, ought to be good, as my handsome countenance indicated. Finally I came to the real meaning of the question. They just wanted to know my name and couldn’t care less if it is good bad or ugly. This is just a way of asking when politeness slips down to obsequiousness. Of late, this habit is spreading to the South also.

Any name is as good or as bad as any other. A name is just an identification. A name could be long or short; sweet or sour. I am the owner of a very long name with thirty five letters and two blanks. I have always shied away from using my full name. Luckily, my students, colleagues and friends shortened it to three letters (good that it was not a four letter word). To all my friends, relatives and those who know me I am just MPC. I never expand it if I can help it. Unfortunately, the External Affairs Ministry and the passport office do not accept names like MPC. It had to be expanded, and I did: “Madayi Puthiyaveettil Chandrasekharan”. While living in my village this is not just a name, but the complete address. I really felt at home when I joined REC in 1966. We had Divakaran Kundanchalil Mandodi, Mustafa Puzhakkile Valappil, and Thiperneni Panduranga Venkata Sathya Narayana Soma Shekhara Rao in the attendance register. I was happy when I got a friend from Andhra Pradesh who had a real, long long name like a goods train: Achanda Veera Venkata Sathya Soorya Seetha Rama Anjaneya Sharma. In IIT Kanpur, Professor V.K Stokes took pains to call Sharma by his full name. Compared to Sharma’s, my name is short and sweet. Nowadays people in Kerala have grown wiser and the names are like Biju, Shiju, Shibu, Biji, Shiji etc.. Once I had called out three thousand names from a rank list for REC Admission, and was dismayed I could not find a single Chandrasekharan.

Unfortunately, Iraqis did not think my name was good and sweet, way back in 1981. Several of them had asked me why I carried the burden of such an ugly name. Why not use an easy name like Ra’ad, Adnan or Ahmed? They follow a system of three component names where you have your name, father’s and grandfather’s names in succession. In Europe and US this could be used as First name, Middle name and Surname. For instance, in Mohamed Ra’adi Kadem, Mohamed is the person’s name, Ra’adi his dad and Kadam his grandpa. When they saw my five component name (Madayi-Puthiya-Veettil-Chandra-Sekharan) the Principal of my college said I could stop with the first three and drop the last two which are my great grandfather and his father. They re-christened me as Madabi(In Arabic, b and y are similar except that b has one dot and y has two dots below. Anyone could misread y as b) Bidiya( Puthiya cannot be written, as there is no P in Arabic. The next best is B) Fittil (V is absent and hence F). Thus, with these minor modifications, your MPC became Madabi Bidiya Fittil in Iraq. I had no complaints so long as I could cash my salary cheques. Iraqis are very friendly people and they always used my first name and addressed me “Syyed Madabi”. With some alertness, I could respond naturally.

2. “Yours and Mine”

Iraqis are wonderful people. The moment they know you are from India they embrace you and call you Refeeq (which means comrade). This privilege is unique for Indians. There was no religious fundamentalism or bigotry before the American invasion of the country. However, you should not judge them by their linguistic skills. Somehow they had a perpetual confusion between “your” and “my”. When my wife landed in Baghdad airport, I approached the immigration counter with our passports and a letter from the Institute where I was employed. The official perused the documents, asked me affably in English, “Where is my wife?”. I was confused, and did not answer. Then he repeated the question more emphatically in a tone of indictment, “Where?...MY WIFE?” My throat choked in an attempted expression of innocence. All energy drained out, I stood dumbfounded. This is a country under a tough military dictatorship where you could end up in jail for trivial offences like spitting on the roadside. It was as though I had hidden this man’s wife somewhere. His question sounded like a Habeas Corpus. I was under the obligation to produce his wife immediately. When I stood there gulping and looking around he opened my wife’s passport, pointed her photo and shouted, “My wife..Where?”. Wisdom dawned on me rather late. I dragged my wife to the counter and showed him, “Here is your wife”

3. Adjectives after the Noun

Most of us who taught in Iraq had great experiences of funny situations in communication. Arabic is written from right to left and all Indo-European languages from left to right. The attendance registers opened from the “last” page. This was a bit of a problem in the beginning, but we soon rose to the occasion. To their surprise, I could read out the names correctly from the Arabic register. My secret technology was to write every name in Malayalam underneath.

Like French, Arabic also places its adjectives after the noun. For instance a fat pig is “pig fat” and a green leaf is “leaf green”. Simple, but this could create enormous amount of confusion. Once I asked a question in the exam to describe how a sand mould was prepared. As they learn everything by heart most of them knew how to answer the question. But some invigilating teachers interfered and explained that sand mould meant moulding sand (read sand-mould from right to left). By the time I reached the last classrooms on my rounds, the damage was already done and they all wrote on moulding sand and I meekly accepted the answer, as I had no way of explaining it.

Epilogue

Later, when I was in IIT Madras, a faculty member got a job as “Assistant Professor” in Iraq. Somebody told him that I was an expert on Iraq, and he sought my advice on how to conduct himself there. I told him there was a chance that they might interpret his post as “Professor’s Assistant”, and he may have to bring tea and snacks from the canteen. The poor fellow was scared about adjectives following the noun!!!!

Too Good Days

Memory of two good days we spent together after half a century

Great Expectations

Forty five years melted away from the minds and hearts of all of us. We longed to be together again, with the rich memory of a variety of experience bubbling up in expectation. Ours was the first batch of Five Year engineering program and the maiden batch of first year students to enter the new Kulathur Campus on the outskirts of Trivandrum in 1961. We suffered through the Chinese war of 1962 and the Pakistan war of ’65 before we left the college in ‘66. We went through many trials and tribulations, recessions and retrenchments after the war, and widespread unemployment that followed. But nothing mattered now. We have all done the best with our lives, and most are happy grandparents. Our classmates came from across the Atlantic just to relive the exciting memory of togetherness. Nevertheless I couldn’t fathom what was in store for us on 22^nd September 2011 in Poovar Island Resort.

In the beginning..

Our leaders Kurup and Co. had asked us to assemble in the Institution of Engineers premises and we (Nirmala and me) reached there well in time. The few guys who waited there faced me with a quiz. “Tell me who I am”. It was almost a cakewalk for me. Then a slim gentleman stepped forward (as he did in the NCC many years ago) and put across the query, adding that no one so far identified him. He may have changed completely, with a bald head as smooth as a baby’s bottom, but “Pattalam” George Thomas was unmistakable in his gait and speech. His challenge was squarely met and I beat him hollow. He couldn’t believe it, and you could knock him down with a feather. He wanted to know the magic of my memory and I said, elementary my dear Watson, I have been teaching all these years.

Saviours of mankind

A similar challenge was thrown to me by a stout Achayan from Pala, whom Kartha introduced as Raman Nair. Sitting two seats behind him in the bus I did a quick rewinding and scanning of my memory disk and shouted that he was Tommy, (Joseph Thomas). That wasn’t a bad performance either. Similar competitions were going on in the bus, but reports did not reach me. And then ….Enter Sundaram Reddiar. But for the efforts of Reddiar, India’s population would have crossed two billion by now. It didn’t, thanks to the millions of condoms he produced during his fertile professional career. Another great savior of Mankind was AK Mathew who produced pesticides and saved the crops in the country, multiplying agricultural production by leaps and bounds!!

Transformations and Identity problems

The easiest person to identify was Rajagopal (Potti). He carried a brief case instead of a slide rule and note books and his hair had gone grey. Otherwise he looked as though he was just about to board the college bus. Thin Thoma (KN Thomas) and Kunjappan do not change; they were always like this and will continue to be. Esther Varghese(now Ninan) was the only one of her kind in Mehanical branch, the very first lady Mechanical engineer of Kerala, eligible for entry to Guinness Book. KNC Kurup, (our leader) who had grey hair in first year has a surprising sheet of black hair now, to cover up his baldness (Godrej hair dye sells in barrels now!!) Thankappan Nair (NT Nair now) wore a sparse and almost white beard to match his philosophical thoughts and actions. Thick Thoma (KC Thomas) revealed his identity with his sweet smile. (Never mind he forgot how many kids he had). Ayyappan, the frail little boy who wore shirts too loose for him has the look of a business tycoon (I am told he is one, now) with a substantial bulk and a paunch to match. DV Ravi continues to be the most handsome guy and I could see the women folk still talking about him in hushed up whispers. As he refuses to remove his cap no one knows what lies beneath. Alas! the most handsome guy has gone bald too. Valsa Koshy(now Kuruvilla) smiled and introduced herself and her spouse. Rachel Mathew said she didn’t have to change her surname after marriage. That is lucky, isn’t it? Muralee Mohan Lal was quite shy and preferred to keep aloof except when he had to attend to organizational matters of the program. AK Janardanan narrated the agony of finding a job in the early years after graduation, but all is well that ends well. K A Sreedharan was perhaps the one who enjoyed real professional satisfaction doing a hard core Mechanical engineer's job inspecting factories and boilers and retiring as the Chief of the department. He promptly showed me his displaced thumb when I enquired about it. Murukesan’s thin black beard made him look far younger than he was, and his nickname “Pulse” resurfaced during the conversation. Rashid did not get enough time to narrate his exploits as all ex-service men do. He didn’t tell us how many Pakistani F-16s he shot down in dog fights during the ‘71 war. Madhusoodanan Nair made a brief appearance for a few minutes and vanished into thin air. He did not enlighten us on how he traversed the great circles around the globe over North and South poles, as flight engineer of Air India.

Losses on the way

Our leader Kurup wanted everyone to stand in silence in memory of those who left us during the journey. George Jacob Samuel left in final year itself (on Sept 13, 1965) and his bones are interred in the CSI Church opposite Public Library. Pramod died on the day our final year results came out, but Roy Varghese Paul lived long enough to make a mark in the profession. Pattalam gave a graphic description of Roy’s single minded devotion to duty and how he moved a train to its destination when the drivers struck work in the railways. Sure, he did us proud. Another person who left us was Padmanabhan (EE) whom we used to call Geometry Swamy in first year due to his uncanny knack of solving most difficult problems in Solid Geometry. One day I invited him to sit by my side waiting for KSRTC bus at the AIR Broadcasting station. I drew a ceremonial triangle and inscribed a circle as his seat to honour his skills in geometry. A perfect gentleman of mild disposition, Swamy never showed anger or annoyance at such mild teasing by lesser mortals like me. May his soul be exalted in his heavenly abode. Eugine George of EE passed away in 2006 due to a heart attack. I distinctly remember him. Tall, dark and hefty, he had an identical twin brother in the junior class. As he was good in maths, Prof. Nagappan Nair was fond of him and used to ask him jokingly, "Are you, you or your brother?". Sudhakaran (EE) (son of Prof. Bhaskaran Nair, University College) died around 1996 in the US where he had migrated after graduation. I am told he too died of heart attack.

Celebrities of our batch

Dr. G Madhavan Nair(EE) who launched many rockets and sent a space vehicle to the moon did not attend this program, although he expressed his desire to participate when I met him in Coimbatore. One of the organizers heaved a sigh of relief. Much as he would wish our celebrity member attended, an intolerable contingent of killjoys in the form of cops and black cats wielding AK-7 would infest the place and make life miserable for others. We may not get our old friend Madhavan Nair whom we could treat like the rest.

Despite the intimidating designation such as the Vice Admiral of Indian Navy Leslie Lowe was the same old smiling, affable character who had the time and mind to mix with the crowd. He did not narrate his exploits in the submarine but stuck to mundane things like family and grandchildren. We had lunch and dinner on the same table, and I admired his amazing dexterity with the knife and fork. As for me, I tend to hold them on the wrong hand (A punishable offence by British standards), and never find them good enough to attack a deep-fried piece of chicken. During the conversation he hopefully did not notice that I had given up the eating tools in preference to my god given fingers. Even otherwise I have the feeling that eating with knife and fork is like making love through an interpreter. I have tried several eating tools including chop-sticks with similar success story. I am told that the real hard core Chinese can even drink water with chop-sticks (Don’t quote me)

Remote participation

Thiruvenkitachary (EE) was acting as the medium through which TS Krishnakumar(EE) attended the function in absentia from USA.(Remember Dhritharashtra during the Great War of mahabharatha) Through Achary and me, he got a “ball-by ball” description of the happenings on both the days. He was one person with a great deal of enthusiasm for the event. Poor fellow was trapped in the US, only to return after a fortnight. In Bombay where he lives, he keeps our final year magazine on his table, opens the photo page and circles the face of the guy he meets. There were many circles on our class photo even way back in ‘97. Chacko Chandi, Joyce John and George Philip (Kochu Philip) are the other enthusiastic guys on the other side of the pond.

Self Introductions

By way of self introduction, almost everyone said he or she belonged to 1961-66 batch. Why this redundant statement? After all, we are met here to reminisce our good old days!!(To those who are irked by ‘we are met’: This is not wrong grammar, Abe Lincoln used it in his Gettysberg speech and there is a rule of grammar ‘Mahad-vachanat sadhu’ meaning what great people say is always right). I tried to demur this repetition, but desisted as good counsel prevailed when U.Mani dissuaded me with his “Chumma Iriyeda”. My wife was keen on knowing what Mani’s initial U stood for. I said its expansion was “Unique”. All of us have our doubles living in various spots on the globe. (Read Saramago’s novel “The Double”) But U.Mani doesn’t have any; he is unique, God did not create another specimen like him.

Sense of Belonging

Later I realized that U. Mani was right. There were a couple of guys who, admittedly did not exactly belong to 61-66 batch. Swaminathan PE joined our batch, left midway and graduated later. He said he was more attached to us than any other he sat with. N. Bhaskaran(Bhasi), the industrialist started his engineering with our seniors, and finished with a junior batch, sitting with us briefly during his long journey though the mighty rivers of Knowledge. He took a little more time than the rest of us because he was not excited by Fourier Series and Laplace Transforms and found his strength in Industrial production. Bhasi proved that academic excellence was but a minor gift when it came to success in life. Bhasi’s wife was adjudged the best dressed person in the crowd. Obviously, other women could not express their jealousy, but I noticed some of them pursing their lips and looking daggers at Kartha when he announced it. Of course, Kartha couldn’t care less. Moreover, how would he know? He never looks at women.

Of Farmers and Saints

An exemplary classmate was Sundaresan, who after retiring as Deputy Chief Engineer chose to go back to his roots; literally to the roots. He is living a farmer’s life caring for the roots of his plants, enjoying the growth of new green shoots every morning, breathing the intoxicating fresh air and listening to the Music of Nature in sun and in shower. This is a saintly life, one we all yearn to live, postpone it to a later date, and end up on the eighteenth floor of a city flat, the final tragedy of modern life. Next to saints, of course are teachers. PV Antony (Poovan , his initial, brings back alternating memories of a kind of banana and a loud rooster) made it clear that teachers were a rarity in our batch, with just the three of us opting for the selfless saintly life: Prasanna Kumari (now Panicker) and MPC besides Poovan himself. There is one more in the US: Kochu Philip (Dr. George Chalumthalakkal in Wisconsin). That makes four of us eligible for sainthood.

Stop Press

Many days after uploading this blog our Abraham John (Now he is John Abraham, topsy-turvy like most of the guys going to USA prefer to turn) claimed sainthood for a few more guys, subject to verification, of course. They are Gisuthan (ME), PV John and Unnnikrishna Menon, both EE. Gisuthan's case is straightforward, as he has also a miracle to his credit, the miracle of being a pet student of N Padmanabha Iyer. The other two will remain in the Purgatory for the time being awaiting details or miracles in their favour.

You Too Brutus!!

I was always under the impression that I was a pretty important guy known to everyone, having won the election against our arch enemies of T3 for Vice President of the Mechanical Engineering Association. My bloated ego suffered a jolt when a few guys told me they recollected neither my handsome countenance nor my illustrious name associated with yeomen service to the society. The “most unkindest cut of all” came when Sivamony Moorthy, ordained by Pattalam George Thomas as the youngest looking member of the batch said he didn’t know me at all. My deflated ego cried from inside: “You too Brutus”!!!. Although we never moved very close in the college, Sivamony was a frequent subject of Ayyappan's conversations-frequent enough to excite my memory chord. I still remember this was the guy who married in third year without inviting any of us for the function. Excuse me for my French: J’accuse..”He refused to share any of his rich experience with his classmates and we had to listen to the civil guy Venu who had a similar misadventure too early in life. He left us high and dry without caring to quench our thirst for knowledge.”. (By an inductive logic I concluded that old men looking young are prone to selective amnesia, particularly if they marry too early) Murukesh Babu and his wife were dashingly young and handsome, looking like in their early fifties. Luckily he had no amnesia and was kind enough to extricate me and Nirmala from a near crisis, by dropping us in his plush sedan at TTC on the return trip from Poovar.

A Personal Fiasco

We (Nirmala and me) had a small fiasco. I had read all of Kurup’s mails, but in the same way as I read my students' answer books. Obviously I didn’t get the program right, and thought we would return after the first day and assemble again next day. Result, we both did not carry even a toothbrush to Poovar. Away from everywhere and inundated by the surrounding rivers and the Arabian Sea, there was no way to buy anything. I consoled my wife that even elephants do not brush their teeth and why are you so touchy about it. She got convinced, but if she appears in the same sari next day what would others think? They would think you have only one sari. No I should show them one more. During our state of distress NT Nair came to our rescue and arranged with Murukesh Babu to give us the much needed lift back home. Then we came back to TTC, brushed, bathed and well kempt, ready for the day.

Maitre de Revels

Lunch at the resort was good, so was the accommodation. But in the afternoon our bosses herded us, the sleepy unwilling Lotus Eaters, (remember Tenyson) back to the meeting hall and left us at the mercy of Unnikrishna Kartha. His performance as Maitre de Revels (You should excuse my bad habit of using French words now and then. This habit started ever since I did my PUC with French as second language. This one simply means Master of Ceremonies). Kartha was flamboyant, boisterous, noisy, undemocratic, autocratic, despotic, dictatorial, partial, nepotic (You are at liberty to add more adjectives) and grossly unfair as a quiz master. Rampant favouritism was the hallmark of his decisions. During the quiz program he declared two star performers U.Mani and MPC as rebels just to suppress freedom of expression and to pave the way for his atrocious actions. His PJ’s (Poor Jokes) often became complex (P+iJ) where the joke part was imaginary. (warning: those who slept in Prof. Richard’s classes on complex variables will find it difficult to grasp even this PJ of mine)

Anticipatory Bail

A classic, interesting performance was by Jogan Easaw Mathew who appeared with his wife and a guitar just as big. His dome (hairless and smooth as a boiled egg) reflected the multiple lights of the hall in random directions and gave a tough time to photographers like me. He sang a couple of “Numbers” (singers usually prefer to sing numbers instead of songs) and a last one “Ayyappante Amma Neyyappam Chuttu”, of course in a Western Tune. Luckily Jogan had taken an anticipatory bail from our Ayyappan before performing this “Number”. Earlier in the day an unguarded remark by an innocent member had offended another and the latter, fully charged with emotion and eyes welling up with tears, denounced the former in public. Jogan did well to take his anticipatory bail. You never know when a thunderstorm could break loose.

Discovery of a Singer

Kartha’s histrionics reached its crescendo when he launched his “Anthakshari” between the teams of men and women. When the women’s team led by Nirmala, ably assisted by a chorus (whose names escape my memory) started gaining upper hand the hidden talents of the batch burst out in the form of MPC. His voice boomed in the hall as though Mohamed Rafi, Mukesh, Manna Dey Kishore Kumar and others had suddenly appeared in person. Then the men’s team had an answer for every challenge from the other side. A thorough Brahmachari during student days, Kartha has of late, become partial to women, unfairly assisting them and brushing aside the superior performance of the Men’s team. As a coping stone on his misdeeds he awarded a “Draw” as the final result. I wondered why Subramanya Sarma (His Highness or Tallness?) did not open his mouth. He remained silent like a ranging rod. In fact he was the person who taught me Rafi’s famous “There ghar ke samne”. People like Thin Thoma were flabbergasted by the classy performance of MPC and asked me why I did not take to singing as a career option. I modestly replied that Yesudas, the most promising Malayalam singer had just begun his career and I should not have spoiled his chances. After all, I had another profession to lean on to.

Guru Devo Bhava:

Imagine meeting Prof. MP Mathew on the way and greeting him with a slap on his back, “Hi, Mathayichan, Howdi, buddy?”. The new generation of students with the present value system may have no qualms about it. But our generation would feel a shock wave passing through our internal organs at the thought of this event. This is because the Indian psyche has internalized the feeling of respect to Guru and this dictum does not remain just a statement in the Vedas. We all wanted to meet our teachers and pay our respects to them. The small function was on the first floor hall of TTC where six of our teachers were present. Dr. R. Ravikumar and Prof. I. Richard came single, while Dr. KPP. Pillai-Varadakumari couple and Dr. Murali-Gomathi couple came in pairs. Professor Richard, despite his endearing charisma appeared aging and was a little hard of hearing. The other five of our teachers were bubbling with energy. I felt our age gap was slowly closing. They did not speak much, but their expression was worth a million words!! After a brief round of self introduction we stood for a group photo in the lawn a few minutes before lunch. Sitting on the floor, at the feet of our teachers was a great privilege for some of us, the privilege of disciples during the period of the Upanishads.

Au Revoir

All good things come to an end, and sure this one did too. But we have resolved to make it more frequent, at least once in two years. But who will bell the cat? That is a trivial, irrelevant and irreverent question. We have our backbone, KN. Chandrasekhara Kurup. On a more serious note, the function would have been drab and lifeless without Kartha. So, gentlemen and ladies we part for now, reposing our confidence in Kuruppachan and his able team to meet again soon with more participants, families and fanfare. God's own country is waiting for you. Au Revoir.

Tourism Promotion: Kerala Style

Munnar is perhaps the most sought after place for a holiday in Kerala. Located at an altitude of about 6000ft from mean sea level, the climate of the mountains attracted British planters more than a century ago, who destroyed the pristine tropical forests to convert them into vast expanses of tea estates. Except for some pockets of settlement, most of Munnar is presently owned by the giant Tata Tea that occasionally changes its name to Kanan Devan Hill Produces Ltd.. Besides KDHP there are a few minor estates too. Privately owned land and Government owned (Revenue) land together is less than ten percent of the total area (??) as people say. Land is a precious commodity, saleable land is almost non existent and the only known method to acquire it is encroachment, forced and clandestine. Thus, in Munnar encroachment is the rule rather than the exception. As private parties know how to protect their holdings the Revenue land is usually the most vulnerable target of encroachment. Once in 2007 Kerala Government tried , for a change, to establish their ownership over revenue land leading to alarming revelations of high level corruption. Finally Government was forced to retreat from this noble endeavour. That it was not an honorable retreat is history now.

Munnar, with its air conditioned climate and breathtaking natural beauty makes it very hospitable for the busy city dweller to spend a weekend. Therefore, tourists in Munnar are not of the big money type, but ordinary people, professionals, middle class families, students and the like. They are not looking for expensive facilities but comfortable stay and convenient transport at affordable costs. Although there is a certain amount of exploitation in all domains, people accept it with a smile considering it as a natural price to pay for a an escape from the ennui of everyday life and a fine holiday.

This hill resort has two main arterial roads that connect the locations of tourist interest to the town. One is the State Highway, connecting Mattupetty, echo point, Kundala and Top Station. The other is NH 49 (Cochin Madurai road) passing through Devikulam, Gap Road, Anayirangal, and Pooppara. From these roads it is possible to go via estate roads to other interesting places like Golf Links, Silent Valley (not the famous one) and other lesser known places. Another main road that exits to Tamil Nadu passes through Eravikulam National Park, Marayur, the famous sandalwood forest and Chinnar wild life sanctuary. Of late the forest department of Kerala has been doing a good job, fencing up the forest neatly to prevent avoidable theft and encroachment.

The salient features of tourism in Munnar are: traveling through the narrow roads, stopping for a while at points where the road is wide enough,(these are called View Points) enjoying the wavy, emerald landscape dotted with silver oak trees against the backdrop of a blue sky and bundles of white clouds or an all-engulfing mist that clears slowly as the wind washes them aside. There were many such points for ordinary people to watch the awesome nature, be part of it and copy them to camera. One such spot was called “Echo Point” where the Mattuppetty reservoir narrows down like a river with the road on one side and a hill on the other. Children and elders used to enjoy their own voice echoing back with immense clarity at this point.

The Government , realizing the importance of this spot constructed a neat, long platform on the water’s edge with steps leading to the lake for people, including children to enjoy the thrill of this point safely. The picture shows the plight of echo point today. The water side of the road is totally blocked by shanty shops, preventing the visitors from even looking at the lake. If you force your way through the gap,(as I did, to take this photo) the scene is even more appalling (See the picture). The platform is closed on all sides with shanty shops selling trinkets, bangles, key chains and the like, besides mini hotels serving foodstuffs. Standing on the platform you cannot even watch the lake, let alone trying your echo. The well constructed tourist platform is now the verandah of the shanty shops. As can be seen in the picture the platform is empty on a busy day because the hawkers allow only genuine customers to stand there. The sundry tourist trying out his echo is quietly shown the exit. All the sides of the platform are now in the hands of illegal hawkers and vendors, apparently let out with the connivance of the local administration and political leadership. I verified with a forest guard managing a nearby check-post who believes that the entire thing is managed by politicians through criminals masquerading as poor hawkers. He does not rule out drug-peddling as one of the objectives of illegal shanty shops. They, with the tacit support of corrupt authorities, are holding the disorganized visitors to ransom .Now no new visitor would ever know there was an echo point here. Thus the Echo Point is dead. Long live the Echo Point.

If you drive a kilometre towards Munnar you reach the beautiful Mattuppetty dam full of sparkling water. There are no shops on the dam itself, but adjacent to it the trader’s town is built on either side along the entire sidewalk and parking space. Shops supply tea, coffee, snacks , fruits and tender coconuts, throwing the entire waste to their ‘backyard’ which incidentally is the dam’s Reservoir itself. The second picture shows the plight of the reservoir with all the waste and junk thrown in from the shanty shops.It is customary, nay fashionable, to blame tourists for environmental degradation. Here the tourists so far never threw any waste into the reservoir. It is now done by hawkers and vendors enjoying property rights on public places, with the patronage of corrupt officials and politicians.

The third picture is more interesting: This is a shop selling bangles, trinkets and other such essentials to sustain human life. A warning notice board of the KSEB forms the rear wall of this shop. This warning tells the public(you and me) that they would withdraw permission to pass over the dam any time without prior notice. Such an omnipotent authority has abdicated their responsibility in favour of criminals and antisocials who now rule the roost. What a shame!!!.I asked the shopkeeper how long he had been running his business in the premises. He said ten to fifteen years. These shanty shops were certainly not there during my last visit a couple of years ago. Obviously the politicians have taught these people to claim long term occupancy on the dam-site. If there is an attempt to clean up the place survival of the squatters could be upheld as the moot point. But the unanswered questions are, why KSEB, has abdicated their throne, and what the Revenue and Police departments are doing to stem the rot. Are they sharing the loot with the politicians, or, are they themselves the culprits? The citizen has a right to know.

The fourth picture is on the famous “Gap Road” on NH 49, beyond Devikulam. This place, with the frequent appearance and disappearance of mist, was a favorite place for visitors to watch the clouds. You can see the clouds down below between the valleys as from an aircraft. The view point has no more view, because the hawkers and vendors have shut off all the view. Now they ask you to move your vehicle away so that it doesn’t obstruct their “shops”. Picture shows how the genuine vehicles are pushed to the black top toad from the parking area. These vendors claim to have a right to do that as they have paid heavy bribes to politicians and officials in order to establish the business. I went to other areas in Munnar and found the same model repeating.

A silver lining in the dark scenario is the quality of maintenance and service at Rajamala. It will be unfair not to mention how neatly Eravikulam National Park is run. The forest department runs mini buses from the entrance to the deep interior, not allowing any outside vehicles to pass, after checking the bags of visitors to make sure that no edible substance is taken to the park. This is to ensure the safety of the rare Nilgiri Tahrs from frivolous and unscrupulous visitors. A few years back there was utter confusion here, due to chaotic driving and visitors claiming more than their due. Now tourists can spend as much time as they wish and return safe. Judging by the crowd and waiting lines one should presume that the project is quite viable and generates a reasonable income. This is in astonishing contrast to what is happening elsewhere in Munnar where politicians, given a chance, would establish hotels to serve mountain goat meat as a special delicacy rather than saving Nilgiri Tahr. This also shows that where there is a will there is a way even in a Government department. One wonders why KSEB has unleashed such a criminal anarchy in this place and why the Department of Tourism maintains this deafening silence.

I used to work in Munnar from 2004 to 2007, and I was a frequent visitor to these places, working closely with the revenue administration and the forest department on their Citizen’s committees. The administration had a commitment to clean up the places when illegal encroachments of this type took place. It is certain that some drastic change has taken place since then, where corrupt politicians with diabolic intentions masquerading as people’s representatives, working hand in glove with criminals and antisocial elements are torpedoing public interest and making profit out of the filth by dishonest means. They are holding you and me to ransom. It is time we woke up and called a spade a spade. Those who read this blog may please spread the news and create an awareness among the public. In God's Own Country what was once a small piece of heaven is now turning into hell. We have to eradicate this evil process of transformation.

Simple Solutions to Complex Problems

Protection of environment is a major concern of many individuals, organizations and Governments. Most of them speak and write about it, mostly blaming the government and local administrations. Governments on the other hand bring about Legislative acts, allocate budgetary provisions and support seminars and symposia. Laws, Rules and punitive actions have created some awareness among the public. Maintaining mini jungles and water bodies in the name of religious beliefs used to help in yesteryears; but on the face of growing “scientific” thinking, secularism and escalating land prices, keeping jungle abodes for snakes in the backyard(famously known as Sarpa-kavu in Malayalam) in the name of tradition is no more feasible. Scientific thinking is purported to be the basis of our decisions, which is often superseded by political reasoning. Occasional attacks of Chikungunya and swine fever keep everyone on the alert at least on personal cleanliness, although we are back to Square One once the epidemic recedes. Many Panchayats and local bodies have started installing biogas plants that achieve the goals of waste disposal and power generation besides producing some organic fertilizer. We can be happy that we are into it though somewhat late.

Uppsala is a small town eighty kilometers North of Stockholm in Sweden. It has a beautiful canal running through the length of the city, passing under several bridges connecting the two parallel roads on its banks. The canal has a small drop before entering the park. There are avenue trees on either side of the canal with seats, benches and small waste bins where all kinds of people, tourists and locals, young and old, boys and girls spend their leisure and happy times. The trees drop a lot of flowers in the canal in Spring, and leaves in Autumn. As the slow water carries them downstream the canal would look dirty and polluted. The City administration is aware of this persistent problem. I was amazed by the simplicity of the solution they adopted in this era of high technology. (See picture).

A rope carrying thin reapers is tied across the canal at forty five degrees. All surface wastes such as flowers, paper cups and plastic bottles collect to the corner which the cleaners sweep away every morning and evening, leaving the water downstream always clean. There are many simple solutions to complex problems around us. Why don’t we think of them?

A seat on the canal’s left bank