‘His victory is our victory,” said his family as they watched him bag the silver medal in weightlifting, in Australia.
At 7.30 am on Thursday morning all eyes in the Poojary household in Vanse, a tiny village near Kundapur in Karnataka, were glued to the television.
One of their own, Gururaja Poojary, was taking part in the men’s 56-kg weightlifting competition in the 2018 Commonwealth Games in Australia. After failing to lift the weight of 138 kg in his first two attempts, it appeared as if Gururaja’s medal prospects were slipping away
The 25-year old weightlifter, however, was the very picture of strength in his final attempt to take his final tally to 249 kg and clinch the silver medal.
This medal in the Gold Coast is not only Gururaja’s first taste of success on the international stage right on his debut, but is also the product of a journey where he overcame poverty and personal setbacks to reach where he is.
But for his family members, it came as no surprise.
He comes from a sporting family – all five of his brothers dabbled in Kabaddi and were athletes. “But it was Gururaj who was always going to achieve his dream,” says Manohar Poojary, Gururaja’s elder brother.
Gururaja’s father, Mahabala Poojary, is a goods-truck driver, who struggled to make ends meet to take care of his six sons. “Poverty is something we have lived in all our life. If we were a little bit well-off financially or received the necessary support and encouragement, maybe all of my sons could have made our country proud,” says Mahabala, speaking after his son’s success in Australia.
But due to poverty and unforeseen circumstances at home, Gururaja’s older brothers – Mohan, Manohar, Udaya and Rajendra – had to drop out of school and, with that, from sports. Only Gururaja and his youngest brother, Rajesh, completed their studies amongst the six sons.
His mother, Padhu Poojarthi, is a homemaker.
But his family was not willing to let Gururaja tread the same path. “Our father worked extra hard to ensure that Gururaja strove to achieve his dream. Seeing my father’s and brother’s struggles, even we chipped-in, taking on extra work to help in whatever way we could. Today, his victory is as much our victory,” says Manohar.
While studying at Sri Dharmastala Manjunatheshwara (SDM) College in Ujire, in Dakshina Kannada, Gururaja was looking for a wrestling coach rather than a weightlifting one. This was around the time Sushil Kumar had won his first Olympic medal in wrestling in 2008. While his search for a wrestling coach proved to be fruitless, he met powerlifters at the local gym and was soon representing his college in powerlifting.
It was here he met his coach Rajendra Prasad, who gave him his first lessons in weightlifting.”I still remember, in 2011, Gururaja was a young boy who had just joined a graduation course. He was a Kabaddi player and a wrestler, and did not have any idea about powerlifting. We selected him for the club and, seeing his talent, guided him in powerlifting,” says Rajendra Prasad, who works as a coach at the SDM Sports Club.
He added that Gururaja was proficient at the University level and even broke a record set by him in 1999 by lifting 193 kg (total in snatch and knee jerk) in 2012. He improved to 243 kg in 2015, a record which still stands to this day.
It was only in 2013 that he became a national-level athlete and in 2014, after a gold medal at the national-level, he started becoming a serious contender for a Commonwealth Games berth.
With his superlative rise in the sport, Gururaja also enrolled in the Indian Air Force three years ago, after which the Air Force took care of all the training expenses. “Until then, it was the family, college-mates and generous philanthropists who gave wings to his dream, hoping he would bring glory to the region,” says Manohar.
By the time the financial strain on his family was eased, 25-year-old Gururaja was ready to take on the world stage.
With the win in Australia, he has now vaulted straight into the national limelight and Pramod Madhwaraj, Karnataka Minister for Youth, Fisheries and Sport, who also hails from Udupi, said that Gururaja is likely to get a government job as a group-B officer and also a cash prize for his achievements.
When TNM caught up with Gururaja, he was, understandably, elated. “I am very happy that I have represented India in the Commonwealth Games and won the first silver medal for India (this year). This is my first Commonwealth Games and I want to thank my parents, family, my weightlifting coach Rajendra Prasad, SDM institution and everyone from my village who supported me,” he says.
His family members, who were nervously watching from home, was over the moon. Although his mother says she doesn’t quite understand the world of sport, she adds she is overwhelmed by the media visits.
But Gururaja’s family was quick to add that the journey is still not over. “We want him to make our country proud. Our biggest dream is that he participates and wins in the Olympics,” says Mahabala.
There is still some way to go before Gururaja can qualify for the Olympics. His final tally of 249 kgs will have to improve closer to 300 kgs. But throughout his journey, he has broken barriers and after his latest success in Australia, Gururaja will no doubt be willing to go the mile to chase his Olympic dream.
Source…….Harsha Raja Gatty and Prajwal Bhat in https://www.thenewsminute.com
Natarajan
தாத்தா ஒருவரால் தான் குடும்பத்தில் எல்லோரையும் மன்னிக்க, கண்டிக்க ஏன்… தண்டிக்கவும் முடியும். வானளாவிய குடும்ப அதிகாரம் படைத்திருந்த தாத்தா இப்போது எங்கே?
தாத்தா, பாட்டி உறவு தாமரை இலை மேல் தண்ணீர் போல ஒட்டாமல் போனதால் தான் இன்றைய பல குடும்பங்கள் சுக்கு நுாறாய் உடைந்து, சிதறிப் போயிருக்கின்றன. வீட்டில் சாப்பிடாமல், நாக்கில் ருசியின்றி கிடக்கும் குழந்தைகளை, மருமகளிடம் திட்டு வாங்கினாலும் பரவாயில்லை என்று ஓட்டலுக்கு கூட்டிச்சென்று புரோட்டா, ஸ்பெஷல் தோசை, ஐஸ்கிரீம் என வாங்கி கொடுத்து வீட்டிற்கு அழைத்து வந்த நாட்கள் என்ன… காய்ச்சலோ, வயிற்று போக்கோ வண்டி கட்டிக்கொண்டு முதல் ஆளாய் டவுன் ஆஸ்பத்திரிக்கு, பெரிய டாக்டரை பார்க்க அழைத்து போகும் உத்வேகம் என்ன… அந்த தாத்தாக்கள் எங்கே?
கயிற்று கட்டிலில் நிலாவை காட்டிக்கொண்டே காற்றோட்டத்துடன் கதை சொல்லும் பக்குவம் என்ன… அவை எல்லாம் இந்த காலத்து குழந்தைகளுக்கு கிடைக்காத பாசபிணைப்பு காலங்கள்.
தாத்தாவின் அதிகாரம்:
தாத்தா கையில் தான் வீட்டின் சாவிக் கொத்து இருக்கும். கல்யாண நாளில் திடீரென ஒரு பெரும் தொகையை மருமகளிடம் கொடுத்து, பிடித்த நகை வாங்கிக்கொள்ளம்மா என்று குடும்ப சக்கரத்தை பக்குவமாக நகர்த்தி செல்லும் தாத்தாக்கள் இல்லாததால் பல குடும்பங்கள் தடம் புரண்டு கிடக்கின்றன. வீட்டிற்கு யாராவது புதிய ஆள் வந்தாலோ, ஆண் குரல் கேட்டாலோ யாரு என சத்தமாக கர்ஜிக்கும் குரலில் எதிராளி சற்று ஆடிப்போய் விடுவார்.
குழந்தைகளை முதல் நாள் பள்ளியில் கொண்டுபோய் விடுவதிலிருந்து, மருமகளை அடுத்த பிரசவத்துக்கு ஆஸ்பத்திரியில் சேர்க்கும் வரை தாத்தா தானாகவே இழுத்து போட்டுக்கொண்டு செய்யும் வேலைகளை இப்பொழுது செய்ய யாரும் இல்லை. ஆட்டோக்காரர், கால் டாக்சிகாரர்கள் அந்த பணியை செய்ய வேண்டிய நிலை. இதுவேதனையானது மட்டுமல்ல மூத்த உறவுகளை உதறிய பாவத்தின் தண்டனை தான்.
ஒழுக்கத்தின் அடையாளம்:
தாத்தா வீட்டில் இருந்ததால் பெரும்பாலான குடும்பங்களில் ஆண்கள் மது அருந்துவதையும், புகை பிடித்தலையும் தவிர்த்தார்கள். லேட்டாக வீட்டிற்கு வந்தால், கதவை தட்டியவுடன் முதல் ஆளாய் கதவை திறந்து ‘ஏன்டா லேட்’ என மகனையும், பேரனையும் அதிகாரத்துடன் கேட்கும் உரிமை தாத்தாவிற்கு மட்டும் தான் இருந்தது. அந்த உரிமையை பறித்ததால் இன்று வீட்டிற்கு ஒன்றிரண்டு ‘குடிமகன்கள்’முளைத்துவிட்டனர்.
பாடம் சொல்லி கொடுப்பதாகட்டும், வாத்தியாரிடம் சென்று ‘படிக்கலைனா நல்லா அடிங்க’ என்று சொல்லிவிட்டு, பேரன் போன பின்பு ‘அடிச்சு கிடிச்சுப்புடாதீங்க; ஒரு பேச்சுக்கு சொன்னேன்,” என்று மறுநிமிடமே வாத்தியாரிடம் மல்லுகட்டும் அந்த தாத்தாவின் அன்புக்கு ஈடு இணையே இல்லை. குழந்தை பருவத்தில் உண்டியல் தான் தாத்தா கொடுக்கும் முதல் பரிசு. சேமிப்பு பழக்கத்தை முதல் காசு போட்டு தொடங்கி வைக்கும் தாத்தாக்கள் உண்டு. ‘தாத்தா நீ செத்துப்போனா எனக்கு யாரு பொம்மை வாங்கித்தருவா? யாரு காசு கொடுப்பா?’ என விளையாட்டாய் கேட்கும் போதெல்லாம் சிரித்துக் கொண்டே ‘உன் கல்யாணத்தை பார்த்துட்டுதான்டா நான் சாவேன்’ என முத்தமிட்டவாறே சொல்லும் அந்த முதிய குழந்தை தாத்தா இப்போது இருப்பதெல்லாம் முதியோர் இல்லங்களில்.
முதுமையை போற்றுவோம்:
குடும்ப உறுப்பினர்களின் மூக்கணாங்கயிற்றை அதிகாரமாக கையில் வைத்திருந்த பல முதியவர்கள் இன்று முதியோர் இல்லங்களில் கட்டிப்போடப்பட்டிருக்கின்றனர். சமீபத்தில் ஒரு ஆதரவற்றோர் இல்லத்தில் எழுதிப்போட்டிருந்த வாசகம் நெஞ்சை உருக்கியது. ‘இது மனிதர்களை பார்க்க விலங்குகள் வந்து போகும் மனித காட்சி சாலை’. பல ஆயிரம் அர்த்தங்களை உள்ளடக்கிய வாசகம் இது. தங்கள் வீட்டின் முதியவர்களை முதியோர் இல்லங்களில் கொண்டுபோய்விடும் மகன்கள் அங்கு சொல்வதெல்லாம், ‘இங்கேயே ஏதும்ஆனா கூட பரவாயில்லை! நாங்க உங்களை ஏதும் சொல்லமாட்டோம். திரும்ப எங்க வீட்டுக்கு மட்டும் அனுப்பிவிடாதீங்க!’ குடும்ப உறவுகள் அந்நியமாகிப்போனதின் முதல் அபாயமே, வீட்டின் முதியோர் புறக்கணிப்பு தான்.
கேள்விக்குறி உறவுகள்:
தாத்தா பாட்டி உறவுகள் தற்போதைய குழந்தைகளுக்கு கிடைக்கிறதா என்றால் கேள்விக்குறிதான். தாத்தாக்கள் கிராமங்களில் தனியாக ரேடியோவோ, தொலைக்காட்சியோபார்த்து அன்றாட பொழுதை ஓட்டிக்கொண்டிருக்க, நகரத்து குழந்தைகள் பள்ளி, டியூஷன், டான்ஸ் என பிசியாக காலம் கழிக்க, என்றாவது வரும் தாத்தாவும் நகரத்து வீட்டில் தனியாகவே இருக்க, தாத்தா- குழந்தை உறவுப்பாலம் நுாலிழையில் தொங்கிக்கொண்டு இருக்கிறது. டிரங்கால் போட்டு கூடுதல் பணம் செலவு செய்து போனில் தாத்தாவிடம் நலம் விசாரித்த காலம் போய், இப்போது பணம், அலைபேசி, நேரம் இருந்தும் மனம் இல்லாமல் தாத்தாவுடன் போனில் பேசுவதையே தவிர்த்துவிட்டோம்.
தாயின் அன்பை போன்றே தாத்தாவின் அன்பும் ஈடு இணையற்றது. ‘தாத்தா நீ செத்துப்போயிட்டேன்னு சொல்லி இன்னிக்கு நான் லீவு போடப்போறேன்’ என்று பேரன் தாத்தாவை கிண்டல் செய்து ஓடுவதும், ‘இரு உன்னை உங்க வாத்தியார் கிட்ட சொல்லித்தரேன்’ என்று சொல்லி தாத்தா செல்லமாய் துரத்துவதும் இனி கிடைக்காத நாட்கள். எந்த ஒரு செயலையும் பக்குவமாய் அணுகி தீர்வு சொல்வது தாத்தாவின் கைவண்ணம். வயதும், அனுபவமும் தாத்தாவை பக்குவப்படுத்துகிறது. ஆனால், அந்த நிதானமும் பொறுமையும் இல்லாததால், இன்று இளைய தலைமுறை இயந்திர கதியாக இயங்குகிறது.
கோடையில் தாத்தா வீடு:
கோடை விடுமுறையில் தாத்தா வீட்டிற்கு கிராமத்திற்கு செல்வதை குழந்தை பருவத்தில் ரசிப்போம். தாத்தாவும், பாட்டியும் சேர்ந்து தலைக்கு நல்லெண்ணெய் தேய்த்து குளிப்பாட்டிவிடுவார்கள். மாலையில் வடை, இரவு சுடச்சுட தோசை சுட்டு கொடுப்பார்கள். திடீரென எல்லா குழந்தைகளுக்கும் விளக்கெண்ணெய் கொடுத்து பேதியாக்கி, வயிற்றை சுத்தம் செய்வார்கள். பள்ளி திறக்கும் முன்பாக சென்ட்ரப்பர், பென்சில், நான்கு வண்ண ரீபில் பேனா, புது ஜாமின்ட்ரி பாக்ஸ் என தாத்தா குழந்தைகளை கவனிக்கும் விதமே தனி தான். பெரியப்பா, பெரியம்மா, சித்தி, சித்தப்பா, மாமா, அத்தை என சம உறவுகளோடு கிராமத்து வீட்டில் குழந்தைகளாக ஆட்டம் போட்ட நாட்கள், குளத்திலும், கண்மாயிலும் நீச்சல் கற்றுக் கொண்டு நாட்கள், பம்புசெட்டில் குளித்தநாட்கள், கோடை மழையில் நனைந்தவாறே கிராமத்து வீட்டு முற்றத்தில் குதித்த நாட்கள் இன்றும் ரம்யமானவை. அந்த நாட்களின் பாசப்பிணைப்பு தான் இன்றும் நம்மை நமது சொந்தங்களோடு இணைத்து வைத்திருக்கிறது.
குடும்ப உறவுகள் அறுந்து போகாமல், நேசங்களும், பாசங்களும் விரிசல் விடாமல் ஆண்டுதோறும் புதுப்பித்து கொண்டிருந்த ஒரே உறவு தாத்தா தான். டேய் என்ற தாத்தாவின் கம்பீரக்குரலுக்கு அப்பா, பெரியப்பா, சித்தப்பா, மாமா, அண்ணன், தம்பி என அத்தனை பேரும் சர்வநாடியெல்லாம் அடங்கி பதுங்கி இருந்த காலம் மறக்க முடியாதவை. தாத்தாவின் குரலுக்கு ஆதரவாய் புதிதாய் வந்த மருமகள்களும் இணைந்து போய், கூட்டுக்குடும்ப உறவுகளும், வரவுகளும் சங்கமிக்கும் கோடை விடுமுறை இப்போது டியூசன், இசை, நடன பயிற்சி என்று தடம் புரண்டு போய்விட்டது. 40 ஆண்டுகளுக்கு முன் குழந்தைகளுக்கு மே மாதத்தில் கிராமத்துவீட்டில் கிடைத்தது எல்லாமே தாத்தாவின் அன்பு அரவணைப்பு தான்.
இழந்துவிட்ட நமது கலாசார உறவு மேம்பாட்டுக்கு குழந்தைகளை கோடை விடுமுறைக்கு தாத்தா வீட்டிற்கு அழைத்து போவோம். ஒதுக்கப்பட்ட முதிய உறவுகளிடம் அன்பு கேட்டு தஞ்சம் புகுவோம். உங்கள் குழந்தைகளுக்கு தாத்தாக்களை நீங்கள் அடையாளம் காட்டுங்கள். பேரக்குழந்தைகள் தாத்தா உறவை கற்றுக்கொள்ளும் மே மாதம், கோடை விடுமுறையில் தாத்தாவிடம் சங்கமிப்போம். கொடுப்பதற்கு ஒன்றுமில்லை என்றாலும் தன் நடுங்கும் கரங்களால் தங்கள் பேரக்குழந்தைகளை வாஞ்சையுடன் தாத்தாக்கள் தடவி, வருடும் போது இருக்கும் அன்பு எதற்கும் ஈடாகாது. உறவின் ஆழத்தையும், அன்பின் விளிம்பையும் குழந்தைகள் உணரும் தருணம் அது.
-ஜெ.ஜெயவெங்கடேஷ்சித்த மருத்துவர், மதுரை
98421 67567
Source….www.dinamalar.com
No membership, no one to supervise, and no last date to return books: Mahendra Kumar’s libraries run on no rules, and plenty of goodwill.
Chennai-based Mahendra Kumar speaks about reading and books with reverence and passion. “It is a character-building activity,” he says earnestly.
In April 2015, he decided to do something which he hoped would encourage people to read: He opened a library in Thirumullaivoyal, Chennai.
It wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill library. The most unique part about it wasn’t even that it was set up in a cement shop, where 69-year-old Mahendra shared a table with the shopkeeper.
What truly set it apart was there was no membership fee, no register to keep track. Literally anyone could walk in, pick up one of the 20 books, and take it home. They could return it whenever they wanted.
This was the first Read and Return Free Library (RFL). Now, Mahendra says that there are 66 of them across TN, and a few other states, with 10,000 books in all.
His first library in Thirumillaivoyal has now expanded to three cupboards, which he keeps outside his house,bursting with books. It stands completely unmanned.
“I could have kept a register perhaps, where people could sign with the book they were taking,” he adds as an afterthought. But Mahendra snaps out of it the very next moment. “I wanted no protocols, no control. Just people free to read and return books, as per their conscience.”
Encouraging others
Presently, there are 48 RFL libraries in Chennai alone. The others are in Nilgiris, Coimbatore, Aurangabad and Mumbai.
But setting these up has not been an easy task. Unable to travel to these places himself, Mahendra would try to convince others to start such libraries.
“I would sometimes see contact numbers in books. Someone who has written an introduction or a foreword – I’d try to find their numbers. I would try to convince them then to start this in their locality. And I would send whatever little money I could to help them,” Mahendra shares.
One such person he convinced was a former classmate of his, Captain R Venkataraman, who started a RFL library in T Nagar, Chennai, in 2016.
“But there are only so many friends or family members who can be convinced,” Mahendra says. “If there are 66 libraries today, you can assume I made 6,000 calls for them.”
Not as easy as it seems
In the past two years, RFL libraries have sprung up in many different places – gated communities, railway stations, hospitals and even a barber shop.
RFL at a Railway Station….
Mahendra is reluctant to share that this has required a considerable amount of legwork and resources from him. He believes it will discourage people, and make them wary of starting more RFLs.
“When people initially came to know about the concept, they wanted to donate books. So I would speak to a few of them, start at 5 am in the morning, make a round with multiple stops and come back with a car full of books,” he recounts. “Sometimes, I would sleep in the car because I’d get tired.”
The problem was that everyone wanted to donate books, but no one wanted to start the library. “Sometimes, people seemed on board with the idea, but they don’t really follow it up with action. I have been wanting to start one RFL library in Bengaluru as well, and got a volunteer too. But they have not really taken it forward after that.”
Mahendra says that he is ready to send some books, and whatever token amount he can from his pocket to help them get started, if only people volunteer.
He also mentions that he is grateful for his wife, who has never raised an objection against him going around the city at odd hours to collect books, and spending money for the RFLs.
Helping students
Mahendra put together the RFL website in 2016. While he is not very familiar with the internet, he says that he somehow learnt some basics and put it together. “The logo looks very childish, no? I made it on Microsoft Paint,” he says, sounding anxious.
The sole purpose for starting the website, he says, is to promote something called ‘Students Corner’.
It allows students to post requirements for second-hand course books, as well as if they have books to donate. Once they fill a form under that section on the site, other students can see it and get in touch. The donor can either mail the books or have them collected by the recipient, as per convenience.
However, Mahendra rues that this has not become as popular as he would have liked it to be.
He also wishes for more people to start RFLs in their localities. “But, it is quite simple really. You just have to see it from time to time to ensure that the infrastructure, wherever you’ve put it, is okay. You can also start it, madam!” he says, cheerfully.
Source…..Geetika Mantri in https://www.thenewsminute.com/
Natarajan
Dear Mr. Banker,
Hello. This is one of your clients. I am appalled at what you have decided to do to banks. Oh, I’m not talking about your non-performing assets and your crony capitalism. If I had had a problem with that, I would have put my money in a sock and tucked it under my mattress. I get it. You probably thought the diamond merchant was a good idea. (Did a solitaire for wifey clinch the deal?) You probably thought the world needs one more mismanaged airline. (Were there some free tickets thrown in?) You probably had political pressure put on you to advance loans to the friends of those in power. (Things do not change because people do not change.)
What I am talking about is how you deal with those who are my age. I am in my fifties and I rather like to think that my money is my own and that you are only the custodian of it. I know also that we are living in the last golden age of interest; that some banks in developed nations charge their customers to keep their money. I know all this but I think it is rather much when you don’t deliver a cheque book after 10 days.
Gone are the days
Now in the old days, I would pop across the street with a piece of paper and sign on the dotted line and the bank clerk would nod and tell me to come back in two days. I would duly go back in two days and be told that he was on leave, could I come back in two days. When I went back in two days, he would be there and my cheque book would be handed over to me and all would be well again. He would ask after my health and I would ask whether his son had done well in the examinations. We had a relationship, he and I. It wasn’t the world’s best relationship but you’re trying to replace it with something poisonous and vile and inhuman because somewhere along the way everyone fell in love with the prefix e- as in e-banking and e-commerce and e-jiggerypokery.
So with your bank, I have to register a request. Some system records my request and then I get an sms saying that the cheque book is ready and it is to be delivered and then another sms saying that the cheque book is on its way — what is this dance of the seven veils? — and then… nothing.
So I call up the service centre where Aziz replies. Aziz is courteous and he informs me that this call will be recorded for the purpose of maintaining quality. That doesn’t fool me, you know. It is to stop me from abusing. Anyway, I don’t believe there is much point abusing Aziz who is a working stiff, trying to make a living. He is not in charge of your policies. He has no idea how much you don’t want to see me at the bank, how much you despise my warm body at the bank because it takes up real estate and costs the bank some more wages for tellers and the line. He has no idea that you want me to do my banking in a disembodied fashion so that all the big shots can earn some more free tickets. He only knows that I do not have a phone banking pin.
I say that I do not have a phone banking pin because I do not use phone banking.
He is slightly perturbed but he asks me to call back from my registered mobile number and answer some questions so he can give me back the phone banking pin that I do not use and will not use.
I do so.
Correct answers
Madhuri is on the line this time and she has several questions for me, all of which I answer correctly. She asks me what my problem is. I say that my cheque book has not turned up. She says she will check the system. This may take time, will I hold? I have long since understood that all service sector encounters in this nation are about waiting so I will wait while she plays me a series of advertisements for banking products in which lively people suggest I should entrust my money and my lifetime security to a bunch of people who cannot send me a cheque book in 10 days. I breathe deeply.
She is back on the phone and says that the cheque book has been returned to head office because my address is incomplete.
I point out that the address has worked for several spam letters delivered by the same bank, for two older cheque books and for several other pieces of paper that look portentous but are actually meaningless.
She says that this may be true but what to do.
I say that the delivery company is lying to them. They need to sort this out with the delivery company.
Madhuri says this may be true but what to do.
I say that I am being penalised for the failure of the delivery company.
Madhuri says this may be true but what to do.
I ask her what I should do. She perks up at this remarkably because it is now my turn to do.
Perhaps I could log on to the website and…
I do not use net banking, I tell her.
Why not? She seems perplexed as if I had said that I do not believe in human rights.
I take a page out of her book and go back to what to do.
She asks me why I don’t talk to my relationship manager.
I say that my relationship manager is but a wandering voice who is only interested in talking to me when my account crosses a certain mark and she thinks she can get me to plough some of it into her bonus.
She says I should take address proof and go to my nearest branch.
I begin to get angry. I say that I have nothing against her because she is doing a fine job but I do want to know why I should be penalised for the failure of their system.
She says that she has another solution. She will have my cheque book delivered to the nearest bank branch and I can pick it up from there.
I do not see that this is a solution since it means I must do the work but I am beaten. I agree.
Madhuri is relieved. She says I will get my cheque book in four working days.
I say that it is Friday, that means I will get it in six human days.
She says that this is true but what to do.
And finally…
I put down the phone. I get an email saying that I will receive my cheque book in eight working days.
I look at it and I think: this may even be true but what to do.
You see, Mr. Banker, there used to be a phrase: safe as banks. No one believes that any more. No one thinks that you’re trustworthy. No one thinks your institutions are trustworthy even if you have cleverly started putting ordinary people into your ads. Most people who have had anything to do with a bank know that it is run for the comfort and the convenience of the bank staff and for the wealth management of the big bosses.
Nothing we can do about that right now. But think about this for a moment. For decades, government-run telephony ruled our lives because we had no option. One day, the mobile phones came along and their monopoly ended. Think about the postal systems, they too had a monopoly and they’re dying now. Somewhere you’re going to tick off some young person; she will go home and create an institutional option, a system which puts the customer up, front and centre — it might be an app but I wouldn’t bet on it — and you’re all going to end up on the rubbish heap of economic history.
Or you could wake up and start thinking about the customer. What a revolutionary idea that would be.
Jerry Pinto
The writer tries to think and write and translate in the cacophony of Mumbai.
Natarajan
In December last year, Prof Lalji Singh, known as the Father of DNA Fingerprinting in India, died after he suffered a major heart attack while at the Lal Bahadur Shastri International Airport, Babatpur in Varanasi.
Death is inevitable. But nothing shocks us more than when a death, which could have been prevented or avoided, occurs due to sheer negligence. Human apathy makes death painful and stark, making us question everything – medical advances, the quality of healthcare, laws, regulations, and the value of life in our country.
In December last year, Prof Lalji Singh, known as the Father of DNA Fingerprinting in India, died after he suffered a major heart attack while at the Lal Bahadur Shastri International Airport, Babatpur in Varanasi.
The airport was not equipped to handle this medical emergency, and by the time he was taken to the hospital – a good few hours later – he had breathed his last. The doctors who examined him say that had he been provided with oxygen supply during the “Golden Hour”, he could have been saved.
What makes it even harsher is that precious time was lost in getting formalities like an “Exit Pass” organised for him due to security reasons. What good are processes that are supposedly put in place to keep people safe when they end up killing them?
My assumption was wrong.
If they did then perhaps Prof Lalji could have been saved.
Airports have become a place to shop and eat. They are all well equipped with restaurants serving a variety of cuisines, every brand that you can think of has a presence here, and liquor outlets thrive – and yet one of the most basic requirements of having a medical room with functional facilities is missing.
We, at the Better India, spoke to Late Prof Lalji’s son, Abhisekh Singh, who is asking some pertinent questions.
Abhishek is asking the Ministry of Civil Aviation and Airport Authority of India to mandate the availability of a doctor, ambulance, minimum medical support, trained medical personnel and standard operating procedures at all civilian airports in India.
You can support his cause by signing the petition here.
On December 10, 2017, Prof Lalji was travelling from Varanasi to Hyderabad on an Indigo flight. Hailing from a village in Varanasi, Prof Lalji started Genome Foundation, a non-profit organisation that aims to diagnose and treat genetic disorders affecting the underprivileged, especially from rural India.
Unfortunately, the staff at the airport told him that there was no request and they couldn’t provide him with one. Since he was travelling alone, he went in to the airport and checked in.
Abhisekh says, “Since I was not present there at that time, I have requested the airport to provide me with the CCTV footage from that day. However, so far I have not received it. I can only, therefore, corroborate what I am saying with what people present there have said to me.”
After he checked in, a wheelchair was provided. Abhisekh also mentions that around this time he called his father to check on him.
A little after that Prof Lalji faced some difficulty in breathing and went to the counter to ask for help. He was taken to the medical inspection room where the compounder after checking him insisted on having him taken to a hospital for immediate medical intervention.
“While the airport had a medical intervention room there was no doctor or medical supplies there. Looking back they did not even have an oxygen cylinder in the airport,” says Abhisekh.
An ambulance was asked for but since did not arrive Prof Lalji had to be taken in a private car to the nearest hospital which was also quite a distance away. Given the strict security, once a passenger enters the airport, they are not allowed to leave until an exit pass is shown.
The doctor who checked Prof Lalji mentioned how he could have been saved if he had been administered with oxygen during the ‘Golden Hour’. Prof Lalji was alive even after the heart attack, but the delay in getting him medical treatment cost him his life.
Here are some of the questions raised by Abhisekh:
1. While there is a medical intervention room, it is virtually of no use.
What is the point of having a designated room in the airport and calling it medical intervention room if there are no trained medical professionals there? In places like Varanasi where even the nearest hospital is quite a distance away, what happens in cases of medical emergencies?
Are these airports waiting for such incidents to occur to act?
2. Should airports not be equipped with basic medical infrastructure?
Unfortunately for us in India, heart disease is still the leading cause of death.
An oxygen cylinder, a defibrillator, an ambulance on call?
3. Is there a standard operating procedure in cases of medical emergencies?
Are our airports equipped to handle medical emergencies? Manuals like the Airports Authority of India, Terminal Management clearly states the need to have a well-equipped first aid box ready. This includes a small oxygen cylinder with delivery accessories and a facemask.
The manual also states that it is desirable that an updated list of Telephone numbers and addresses of the hospitals and nursing homes ( indicating the specialised Treatment rendered) in the vicinity of the Airport should always be available with the Terminal Manager.
If these are guidelines then why were none of them implemented on December 10, 2017? Are these guidelines just printed because they look good on paper? Does the DGCA ever audit the airports to ensure that all the norms are being followed?
So important questions for us all.
Abhishek is asking the Ministry of Civil Aviation and Airport Authority of India to mandate the availability of a doctor, ambulance, minimum medical support, trained medical personnel and standard operating procedures at all civilian airports in India.
You can support his cause by signing the petition here.
(Edited by Vinayak Hegde)
Source……. Vidya Raja in http://www.the better india .com
Natarajan
On Thursday morning, the Versova beach in Mumbai welcomed around 80 palm-sized turtles, making their way slowly but surely in the Arabian Sea.
Why is this event so special?
Well, for starters, the turtles in question are Olive Ridley Turtle, and their eggs hatched on a Mumbai beach after 20 years, and it was all thanks to the efforts of hundreds of Mumbaikars who have been cleaning the Versova beach for over two years now.
The Olive Ridley Turtle has been classified by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) as a vulnerable species, which is likely to become endangered unless the circumstances that are threatening its survival and reproduction improve.
According to WWF India, “Olive Ridley Turtles are the smallest and most abundant of all sea turtles found in the world” and live in the warm parts Pacific, Atlantic and Indian oceans.
However, for the past 20 years, these turtles had stopped visiting Mumbai, thanks to the number of pollutants and plastic on the beaches. Not only is the trash an unwelcoming home to lay eggs, but is also a threat to the lives of the tiny turtles who have to walk from their nesting site to the sea all by themselves.
Afroz Shah had taken the initiative to clean up Versova beaches and collect all the plastic dumped there. According to the Hindustan Times, in only 126 weeks, Afroz Shah and the Versova Residents Volunteers’ team has successfully cleared 13 million kg of garbage, which included plastic from the beach.
Speaking about the Olive Ridley Turtle hatchlings, Prashant Deshmukh, range forest officer, Mumbai Mangrove Conservation Unit said,
Week 127 .
Fantastic news for Mumbai .
We got back Olive Ridley Sea Turtle after 20 years. Historic moment
Nested and Hatched at our beach. We facilitate their journey to ocean.
Constant cleaning helps marine species.
Marine conservation centre needed at @versovabeach
Apart from Versova, these turtles are found on the beaches of Velas, Anjarle, Harihareshwar, Maral and Diveagar in Maharashtra.
The largest nesting site of the world is in Odisha along the coasts of the Bay of Bengal. Villagers in Odisha, too, have made attempts to save the nesting sites and ensure safety to the newborn turtles. You can read more about this story here.
Edited by Gayatri Mishra.
Source……. Tanvi Patel in http://www.the better india.com
Natarajan
In a recent report, the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis(IEEFA), a US-based think tank, ranked Tamil Nadu as one of the top nine markets in the world for acquiring a high percentage of net energy needs from renewable energy sources.
The study was an assessment of the top 15 countries or power markets in the world, where the share of solar and wind energy in proportion to their total energy requirements is high. Denmark leads the way, with 53% of its energy coming from renewable sources in 2017, followed by Southern Australia and Uruguay.
In 2016-17, Tamil Nadu acquired 14.3% of its energy needs from wind and solar energy sources.
“Tamil Nadu also leads India in installed renewable energy capacity. Of the total 30 GW of installed capacity across the state as of March 2017, variable wind and solar power accounted for 9.6 GW or 32% of the total. Firm hydroelectricity added another 2.2 GW or 7%, nuclear 8% and biomass and run of river, 3%. As such, zero emissions capacity represents a leading 50% of Tamil Nadu’s total installed renewable energy. With much of Tamil Nadu’s renewable energy coming from end-of-life wind farms installed 15-25 years ago, average utilisation rates are a low 18%, making the contribution of variable renewables to total generation even more impressive,” says the IEEFA report.
Total installed renewable energy capacity for Tamil Nadu stands at approximately 10,800 megawatts (MW), of which 7870 MW comes from wind and 1,697 MW solar, while the rest comes from biomass and small hydro projects. Although it comes third in solar energy capacity behind Andhra Pradesh (2,010 MW) and Rajasthan (1,961 MW), the state tops the charts in wind power capacity ahead of Gujarat (5429 MW) and Maharashtra (4,752 MW). Tamil Nadu generates more wind energy than Sweden (6.7 GW) and Denmark (5.5 GW), the birthplace of wind energy.
“As of March 2017, the state had 1 GW of biomass and run-of-river small-scale hydro, 2.2 GW of conventional hydroelectricity, and 1 GW of gas fired power capacity operational (plus another 1 GW of gas under construction),” reports the IEEFA. In an interesting aside, it also hosts the second largest solar farm (Kamuthi) in the country with a capacity of 648 MW.
This is a heartening development as it comes a time when the Government of India has set a target of sourcing 175 gigawatts of energy from renewable sources by 2022.
When it comes to renewable energy in India, one could consider Tamil Nadu as a pioneer of sorts. Most of its wind farms, for example, were built approximately 25 years back.
The state’s sojourn into renewable energy began as an emergency attempt to fill the growing deficit between supply and demand of power.
Major industries like automotive parts, textiles, cement and leather-tanning, for example, demanded large amounts of power and consequently, the feed-in tariff (payments to ordinary energy users—people or businesses—for the renewable electricity they generate) for the wind energy sector was encouraging.
The price at which wind energy is sold to the people today is determined at an open auction for power utilities. Earlier, the state power regulators had a stranglehold on determining prices but changed to an auction system in 2016.
With the local textile sector first grabbing the bull by its horns, Tamil Nadu also became one of the first states to allow industrial units to establish their own wind power plants. These 20-year-old wind farms owned by the Tamil Nadu Spinning Mills Association (TASMA) generates a little less than 40% of the state’s total wind energy capacity (3000 MW). The Muppandal wind farm outside Madurai, for example, generates 1.5 GW of energy, making it the largest wind farm outside China.
With favourable tariff conditions, the state also made serious progress in the solar energy arena.
“In recent years, the government has also worked to improve its transmission infrastructure, encouraging firms to expand. Since renewable energy is infirm, managing the fluctuation in power generation is key. Tamil Nadu has begun forecasting the flow so that the grid is ready to handle things,” says this recent report in Quartz India.
Having said that, the IEEFA has argued in its report titled ‘Electricity Transformation in India: A Case Study of Tamil Nadu’, it argued how the state’s growth in wind and solar energy generation isn’t enough.
Instead, what the state is doing is looking to build 25,000 MW of thermal power projects. “Despite being a world leader in wind energy, Tamil Nadu’s wind farms have ageing and outdated technology. Upgrading the existing turbines alone could double the state’s leading wind energy capacity,” said Tim Buckley, IEEFA’s director of energy finance studies, Australia.
There are other concerns, as well. “Renewable energy assets in Tamil Nadu are facing significant back down (as state power utilities are buying little power from these plants). This adversely impacts their feasibility,” Kanika Chawla, a renewable energy expert at Delhi-based non-profit Council on Energy, Environment, and Water, told Quartz India.
Primarily, the major concerns stem from state regulation-related issues. For starters, the state-owned power utility Tangedco has proposed an additional imposition of taxes on rooftop solar plants, says this Times of India report.
Last July, Tamil Nadu was unable to use all the solar power it generated. In the wind energy sector, the government could stymie TASMA’s ability to drawing back the excess power it delivers to the power grid in the event of a shortage (wind banking). What one must understand is that TASMA generates and delivers excess wind energy to the power grid.
However, the biggest concern is the dire financial condition of the state power utility. In 2016-17, the Tamil Nadu Generation and Distribution Corporation Limited (TANGEDCO) posted a loss of Rs 3,783 crore, besides year-long delays in the payment of dues to power-generating units.
As a result, these power generation units are unable to repay loans they had taken from the banks to install all the necessary equipment. The poor state of regulation in the state’s power sector is a real concern.
Source…. Rinchen Norbu Wangchuk
in http://www.the betterindia.com
Natarajan
Charles ‘Biharilal’ Thomson, is an Australian who speaks fluent Hindi learnt on the streets, trains and buses of India’s hinterland.
Biharilal tells Rediff.com‘s Archana Masih how India has bewitched him.
Photograph: Kind courtesy Charles Thomson/Facebook
Biharilal Thomson is a white Australian who speaks Hindi better than many Indians.
The first time he saw a non-white person was as a 10 year old. His mother had invited an Indian yogi from Bihar into their home in Australia and asked her son to share his room with the sadhu for a few weeks.
“I had only seen white Australians till then, not even native Aboriginals — and here was an Indian in a langoti in my room!” he exclaims in good humour, sitting in a film producer’s home in suburban Mumbai, wearing a kurta-pajama and a yellow stole.
In the two hour conversation, he only speaks Hindi, a language he learnt in the streets, trains and buses of Bihar where he had arrived at age 13 in December 1974.
He loved his new home on the banks of the Ganga so much that he did not return to Australia for the next 11 years. Accounts of his experiences in India’s rural underbelly in the 1970s-1980s, include encounters with dacoits on horseback on at least two railway journeys.
“I saw real sadhus, I saw real dacoits — and I thought I had reached an amazing place,” says Biharilal with a grin. His life experiences, he says are so unbelievable that he sometimes thinks it is like a film.
It also reveals an India of another time — one that was simpler, wilder, unfamiliar and distant from what it is today.
“India was friendly with the Soviet Union, and I came across Indians who were desperate to emigrate to the USA, Canada or UK — not to the USSR.”
“The other thing that was common was cycles. Only the DM (district magistrate) and SP (superintendent of police) had cars — and in the trains people sometimes travelled with their own cooks!”
After going back to Australia in 1985, he returned to formally work in India in 2011.
India has seen a giant leap ahead since, and he has spent nearly 16 years here, but one question posed to him that hasn’t changed over the years is — “Why did you come to India?”
“This is what I am routinely asked, especially by the youth. They ask ‘Why have you come here when we want to settle abroad?’,” says Biharilal, who applied for Indian citizenship in 2014 and hopes to hold an Indian passport soon.
“The other thing I am amazed with is this craze for English. Even if I speak to those who know Hindi in Hindi, they reply in English!”
“Why?”
His fluency in Hindi has fetched him invites to Hindi events by the Indian high commission in Australia, to symposia at Savitribai Phule Pune university and Delhi’s Hansraj College. He has anchored a few film festivals and done some acting roles.
It has also brought him an FM radio show that he hopes to receive a confirmation for by April.
“In independent India it will be the first time that an angrez will do a radio show in Hindi,” he says enthusiastically.
Not wanting to be boxed into roles of the typical gora speaking tooti-phooti Hindi, he refers to the accomplished actor Tom Alter.
“He is an asli Hindustani, I’m nakli, but because earlier directors made him speak broken Hindi like an angrez, people thought he was English.”
“People didn’t know he was Indian, a Padma Shri, who spoke fluent Hindi and Urdu.”
Biharilal works at Josh Talks, a media company that invites guests to share inspirational stories. His focus is on all regional languages and tier-2 cities.
He has also done a few acting roles in Hindi and Marathi television serials, and recently appeared in an airline commercial for Scoot, a budget airline owned by Singapore Airlines.
There are quirky benefits to a white man speaking Hindi too — like the number of wedding invitations he receives. Many wedding organisers in the Delhi area send him invitations only to have a foreigner on display!
“I get so many invitations for chief guest. In the marriage season, I’ll be booked,” he laughs.
“People want a gora who speaks Hindi to show at their weddings.”
The move from Australia to India may have been a continental shift, but for Charles ‘Biharilal’ Thompson, it was like coming home.
It was a life introduced to him by his mother, a ballerina and an early convert to yoga, who came to learn at the Bihar School of Yoga in Munger in 1972.
“At that time only 1% of the world travelled by aeroplane,” says Biharilal, who is often recognised as ‘Biharilal Autowale Babu’ after a show on Zee TV where he covered the 2017 Delhi municipal election in a colourful autorickshaw.
He also covered the UP assembly election last year for WION, Zee’s English news channel.
“We used to fly to the Gold Coast to visit my grandparents every year. I made my father promise that he would send me to India instead, if I stood 1st or 2nd in school.”
He stood 2nd and travelled to Calcutta, he says, taking a train to Jamalpur and then a bus to Munger.
“I was shocked to see the poverty in Calcutta, but hearing ‘garam chai‘ by tea vendors in the train was like music,” he remembers.
Eight weeks later, his father returned to take him home.
“I told him I wanted to stay for one more year,” he says over a cup of tea.
“But I stayed for 11.”
blob:https://ishare.rediff.com/d8239350-f845-46f6-86e1-762bd67d53b5
He has now spent 16 years in India — first at the Bihar School of Yoga in Munger, then working in a financial tech start up Eko India, and currently in the entertainment industry.
At the famed yoga school in Munger, he says he learnt yoga and managed the library. He helped in the institute’s office work which would take him to Patna and Delhi.
It was on one these travels that he found himself in the middle of a dacoity.
He had bought a third class ticket and boarded a train from Jamalpur to Patna in Bihar. The TT saw his ticket and upgraded him to first class. Along the way, dacoits came riding alongside the train, detached the first class compartment and started looting passengers.
When they reached his coupe, he held out his hands, and said, “Ruko, ruko! (stop, stop!)”
The dacoits stopped.
“I was a young boy and did not know very good Hindi at that time, so I just managed to ask a dacoit if he had any videshifriend?”
The dacoit said ‘No’ and Biharilal told him that he would be his friend.
“He smiled and did not take anything from me.”
Caught in another dacoity on a railway platform — this time on a dark railway platform surrounded by crop fields — his saffron clothes came to his rescue.
“When they came to me, I just sprang up and started chanting Bum, Bum Bole-Bum, Bum Bole and they said, ‘Yeh toh Ganga jal wala aadmi hai‘ and let me go,” he chuckles.
India was very different then, he says. Yoga institutes were very austere and drew only the most committed.
He remembers the first function he organised which had a generator as backup for electricity failure. When the lights went off and the generator was switched on — the crowd left the sammelan and rushed to get a first glimpse of a generator at the back.
At fifty-seven, Biharilal has seen the arc of India’s history from Indira Gandhi’s Emergency to her assassination to the post liberalisation. He has travelled widely, even taken his mother to the Kumbh Mela.
In between, he returned to Australia and ran a Thai vegetarian restaurant but kept coming back to India.
“I started coming back in the late 80s, but visas were very difficult. Till the Modi Sarkar came, getting a visa to India was not easy. Sushma Swaraj is doing a good job,” he says.
In 2009, a startup started by Biharis, Eko India, offered him a job and he moved to India.
But it was a chance encounter with an Indian student at a Sydney swimming pool that opened the door to acting.
Shashank Ketkar, now a popular television actor, had got talking to him by the pool hearing his Hindi and came to eat at his Thai restaurant.
Few years later, Biharilal would visit him on the sets of his show whenever he was in Mumbai. His kurta-pajama style of dressing and fluency in Hindi caught the eyes of the director and led to small roles. He also got to play an angrez in a Marathi film Shashank Ketkar was acting in.
“I went to Kohlapur and shot a scene where I was seated on a horse in 40 degrees heat. I loved it. I thought I had become Shah Rukh Khan!”
He has also acted in a Hindi suspense thriller that will release this year.
Every day, he receives a large number of messages on Facebook and makes it a point to at least say ‘Ram, Ram’ or ‘Namaste’ to them.
“I feel the whole of Hindustan is made for me. Yeh kamal ka desh hai, yaha aapko sab kuch mil jayega (this is a great country, there is nothing you can’t find here),” he says, adjusting the famous Australian Akubra hat he is wearing and steps into the hot Mumbai sun.
Archana Masih / Rediff.com
Source…..www.rediff.com
Natarajan
