My father never told me.....

                                         ____1_____

"You have to meet him Somiah, he looks like your younger brother " Srinivas  said..

Somiah just smiled, and continued to eat his sandwich. They had an hour for lunch and then they had to go back for training. 

Somiah was sitting in the Starbucks in City Center Doha, eating his sandwich and having a cup of coffee, his standard working lunch with his colleague Srinivas Jain

They both were working at the Qatar Financial Center, walking distance from The  City Center Mall , and were in the midst of a training for  upgrading the systems. 

Srinivas was talking about a cousins friend who had joined another company in Qatar, who had arrived from Australia. Apparently he looked like what Som looked like when he was ten years younger..

" Sure , but right now we need to go back to the office" replied Som

"How about this weekend, lets go to Trader Vicks ? I will call him too" said Srinivas

"Sure, that sounds like a plan ".They  finished up and went back to training. 

                                                        ____2_____

Thursday came and Somiah picked up Srinivas in a taxi , and went to Trader Vicks,  Srinivas hated driving,  and they both planned to drink that night, so no car, just a taxi 

They ordered a round of drinks, and ordered some starters, and some more friends joined them  and they were chatting and then Srinivas, tapped Somiah on the shoulder and when he turned around, Somiah thought he was seeing a double of himself, wait ..only younger. Same eyes, same build, same toothy smile. They both were surprised , and then Srinivas shouted "See I told you" ...and introduced them to each other..." Pat meet Somiah, Som meet Pat...your younger self...ha ha" ..

After a few awkward words to each other, they settled down to talk to each other, and then slowly they started asking each other questions...Pat was 8 years younger than Somiah, his Mom was from India...an Anglo Indian ....Madras actually, then migrated to Australia with her brother from there. Married his Dad there, another Anglo Indian, two kids, one brother and him.

Somiah said " My Mom was an Anglo Indian too?" 

Pat asked "Was?" 

Somiah said "She left Dad when I was little, we are two brothers too, my grandparents never approved of her. ....I always wondered how she looked "

Srinivas who had been listening...suddenly said 

"Why dont you ask your Mom, Pat , if she had any sisters who had kids in India?"

 Both Somiah and Pat looked at each other and laughed. 

Somiah said " You know Srini, its believed that there are 7 people in the world with your face, clearly one is standing in front of me. "..and nothing more was on the topic was said. 

                                          _______3_______                                              

It was October and Somiah was travelling back to Coorg to meet his Dad and stepmom. 

After a few days back, Somiah  showed his Dad a picture of Pat on his phone, and said "Does he not look exactly like me? You know Dad, you never spoke to us about our Mother, what was she like? Did she have any sisters? " 

Som's father, Mr. Belliappa, was quite for some time. He had been a stunningly handsome man in his younger days, and you could still see some of those looks. He was clearly struggling with something, and then he finally spoke 

"Your Mom and me met, when I was doing short service commission in the army in Madras, I had broken a leg, during training, and she was the nurse who looked after me. I fell hopelessly in love with her, she was a beauty, and we eloped and got married. When I came with her to Coorg, your grandfather refused to let us into the house. We were expecting your brother then, and were quite devastated . "

"Your grandfather refused to budge, and I was young and hotheaded, turned and went back to Madras , Your mother was very upset about it. She never spoke about it again, but she felt very insulted.'

"Then you were born, two years later, and we started having fights, her entire family was migrating to Australia, and she wanted us to go too. I was not keen, things got worse, when her brother sent word for her, and told her to leave me and come with the kids. " 

"She left alright, but without you guys, and sent me the divorce papers through a relative, and I was so upset, I signed it"

"I  got married again, and completely forgot about your Mother "

Som looked at him and asked him "What was her name? Do you have a photograph?"

His father walked to a cupboard in his library, and took out a folder, in that was an envelope, with his wedding certificate, his divorce papers, and a black and white photograph of him and a beautiful woman. 

"Her name was Anne, full name Anne Pearl Higgins , and she was your mother. "

                                            _________4_________

Somiah was sitting opposite Pat at the coffeeshop at the Four Seasons , Doha. They had both ordered a strong cup of Amaricano 

Pat was staring at Somiah, on the table in front of him, was the photograph.

Pat picked it up again, and stared at it. 

"That is my Mom, she changed her name to Pearl, whenever we asked her why , she would say "Anne is a really common name.""

Pat said "You know Som, I can call you Som? My Mom never spoke about Madras, or her life in India, she would just say "I wanted a better life", I guess she meant moving abroad, and being near her family "

Pat then looked at Somiah and asked him " What do you want from me?"

Somiah looked at him and said "Nothing really, just closure "

                                                                ___5_____

Somiah got a call from Pat, a few years later, " Mom just passed , she had been suffering from cancer, and in the last few months, deteriorated really badly, just wanted to tell you" 

Somiah mumbled "My deepest condolences" and put the phone down. 

That evening he lit a candle in her name. He felt nothing....absolutely nothing ...a strange calm had come over him . 

The story of Chaya

Present day......
Chaya looked across the wedding hall at her husband Kush. He was talking to his twin brother Luv. She could not imagine two men more similar looking and more different in every which way.

Her neice, Luv's daughter Sujata was getting married, and this brought back a lot of memories of her own wedding day, so many years back.

Chaya's cheeks were burning with mortification. It was at the wedding mantapa that Luv her would- be -husband, walked in with Kritika, and announced that he was married to her. Leaving her Chaya, literally at the alter, with no where to go. Chaya's mother Daisy, burst into tears, her father Karumbiah wanted to kill Luv. Luv's parents were screaming at Luv, it was utterly chaotic, and every one had forgotten about the bride, sitting in all her finery, feeling utterly humiliated. 

Chaya went into a daze, and sat there shocked. She looked up to see Kush walk on to the mantapa, and announced that he would marry her. There was a stunned silence. Chaya looked up and saw relief on her mother's face, aggression on her father's face . Suddenly Luv's parents started talking, and next minute, all Chaya remembers was that she was married off to Kush, her would- have - husbands twin brother. 

Kush suddenly looked up to see Chaya watching him and gave her a slow smile. He left Luv and walked across to Chaya.


Kritika and Luv were child hood sweethearts, Luv's parents did not approve, because Kritikas father was only a manager on the estate and had no wealth to speak of. The girl had  finished only matriculation and had been sitting at home. When Luv's proposal came to Chaya, the daughter of one of the top planters in Coorg, who had studied in Ooty, and then in Mount Carmel college in Bangalore, it was considered a good match of equals. The women could not be more dissimilar in looks. Kritika, was short, curvy and pretty, and Chaya was tall, slim and regal looking.

Soon both were pregnant, and Chaya gave birth to a boy- Kishen , and Kritika to a girl- Sujata. Chaya went on to produce a daughter Kaveri and Kritika misscarried three times and never conceived again. 

Both Luv and Kush, were very hard working  men, both busy in growing the practice. Their father had instilled in them that it was best for the business if they worked together and so the firm "Kalappa and sons" became one of the top firms in Bangalore. All of them lived in a joint family, in a huge house of St. Mark's Road in Bangalore. The house had three wings to it, added on by the far thinking Advocate Kalappa, who knew that he wanted to keep his brood under his watchful eye, and also keep the family unit together. 

Kush nudged Chaya, and whispered " Where is Kritika? Luv cannot find her"
To which Chaya replied "Must be in the kitchen supervising the food ". It was a lie, she had seen Kritika go towards the back of the house and knew she had gone there to have  a quick drink. Her drinking had started quite early, but slowly what was a night tipple had turned into a bottle a day, and now she was considered to have quite a serious drinking problem. Luv and she would fight practically every day, and Sujata had been brought up by Chaya and Kush.

When Sujata fell in love and announced that she wanted to get married , it was Chaya she told first, before her own parents, and it was Chaya who spoke to her husband and convinced her inlaws.


Kritika, got into depression. Her husband was a workaholic and she soon found that she had nothing in common with him. The distance was more than physical .  It was believed that he was unfaithful to her, she had no proof and no way of confronting him about it. Initially she had felt triumphant about marrying Luv, but as she gotten older, a bit of jealousy mixed with intimidation seeped into her relationship with Chaya. She tried to imitate the way Chaya wore her clothes, her easy banter with her in-laws, her sense of humour, which got even the very serious Kush laughing. Sometimes sitting on the dining table, she would see the whole family laughing at a joke that Chaya had cracked, including Luv and she would feel a wave of jealousy. 

 Kritika started drinking, initially it would be a shot of brandy at night, that increased to a few shots of brandy with hot water, and then finally she became a full time alcoholic. The in- laws were very upset, Luv was indifferent, and the only one who worried about this was Chaya, because of the impact it would have on Sujata. Slowly she took over the reigns of looking after Sujata. The young girl loved Chaya, who told her stories during dinner, and read to her, and oiled her hair. She took her shopping, bought her makeup and went to see movies with. They would giggle over a common joke, and Sujata called Chaya "dodeavva" or big Mom. The child initially was rebellious, but with a firm hand and lots of love, she changed, and grew into an intelligent girl. Joining her Dad and Uncle in the practice, she specialised in patent law, a relatively new subject. Chaya wanted her to go to England and study it further and after much convincing, she was sent. 

Chaya looked and Kush and said "Thank you for marrying me". Kush looked at her quizically, raising an eyebrow asked "All okay?" , to which Chaya replied "Just say you are welcome! Why do you over think things?" To which he replied " I am not over thinking anything, just trying to figure out, after 23 years, why did you suddenly decide to thank me! Besides, I should thank you too, its been a good ride ". He then reached over and kissed her on her forehead.

Chaya blushed, its very rare for Kush to display any affection in public. She loved him, and she thanked Lord Iggutappa for giving him to her.

Hindi-Vindi....no not my language..

When my parents moved to Delhi, my Dad enrolled me into Bal Bharati Air Force School. On the first day of school, my Hindi teacher, a very strict woman called Mrs. Jain, while doing the roll call, asked me if I was Coorg. Naturally, I proudly got up and said "Yes Maám". She shook her head in dismay, and then to the entire class related a story of an ex student of the school, called Nanjappa. 

The year was 1982. Nanjappa, or Nanju as he was called in school , was an all rounder. Great in sports, he played hockey, basketball, was on the athletic squad, swam really well, and played water polo. He also painted really well, played the guitar and topped his class in Maths. The teacher's would talk about Nanju and his good looks for a long time to come. But only Mrs Jain would shudder at the very mention of his name. 

Mrs. Jain had graduated from Baneras Hindu University. Finishing first her graduation and then her post graduation in Hindi, and then went on to do her M. Phil and teachers training in Hindi. She loved teaching. She felt extremely lucky to have the opportunity to teach young minds, and make them appreciate the nuances of Hindi poetry and study the subject. 

Mrs. Jain could not stop talking about Nanju, and his green eyes, and his white teeth and then she stopped and said "Just wish he was better at Hindi".She looked crestfallen. 

The story goes, that Nanju's results in all subjects was above average, except Hindi. During the annual Parents-Teachers meeting, Mrs Jain took his Dad aside and told him, that Nanju would have to repeat the 10th standard, if he did not pass in Hindi. Nanju's father Chengappa,was very worried, Nanju was his only son , and he knew that the child would be crestfallen, if he had to repeat a year. 

Nanju started staying back in school and taking extra lessons in Hindi, his parents hired a weekend teacher to teach him Hindi at home. Progress was being made. The exams were looming closer and closer. Then one day, one of his class mates Rajesh came to class and told his close buddies Nanju included that he had come across some body who would give them the 10th board paper in Hindi for a princely fee of Rs 60/-. Nanju, saved up his pocket money and chipped in Rs. 10. It was princely sum for him. He got the Hindi paper, and now was confident he would pass in Hindi. He shared this news with his weekend teacher. Who went through the paper, and with two days to go, gave him the break down on the paper, he told Nanju, "write a really good essay and that is about 20 marks, and then all you have to do for the rest of the paper is get about 15 more marks and you are passed". Nanju looked at the essay and the topic was about "My cow Gauri". The teacher wrote down the essay, and Nanju spent an entire night learning it by heart. Every comma, every word was learnt till he could narrate it blindly

. 

The day of the exam came, and Nanju got the paper, quickly he went to the page about the essay and it was about "An ideal student". The papers had been changed. Nanju was in shock, quickly he decided to write the essay. 

He started it like this. "There was a boy called Ram, he was a good student. Ram had a cow. The cow was called Gauri..."....and then proceeded to write about the cow Gauri....

The class was howling with laughter, I thought it was terribly clever. Mrs. Jain looked pained, and many years later I am sure she was narrating Nanju's story and my story to the next batches....

Well Hindi - Vindi..its not my language...

Karma is best served cold

It was rainy day, in Aug 2012. Gloom had descended on the entourage like a thick blanket. Pratap and Siddarth were distraught. Dev was only 38, too young to die. They cremated Dev in the electric crematorium in Bangalore and all went back to his mother's house in St. Marks road for the prayer meet.

Dev had died of a massive heart attack, right in the middle of  a jog. The doctor had told him to start an exercise regimen, as he was putting on weight. It had been 3 weeks, and Dev had started jogging every morning. His wife Kamala and he had been divorced for many years. He lived alone, in his flat in Brunton Road.

Kaveri read out the obituary in the papers. It read "Dev Nanjappa - born March 6th 1974- died Aug 23rd 2012. Survived by a wife and daughter". Kaveri felt a sense of peace descend on her, a big chapter of her life was closed forever. She looked up and thanked God.

It was in 2000 when Pratap, Siddarth and Dev had a bet. The bet was simple, the plan even simpler. Get Kaveri to fall for one of them. In order to achieve this, one would behave like a jerk, and the other one would "rescue " her and give her a shoulder to cry on.  So the plan took shape, Pratap would act like the jerk, and Dev the "rescuer". 

Dev and Kaveri started seeing each other. Many months later, while they were all out for lunch, Kaveri had to leave early to meet a client. She left the restaurant, only to realise that she had left her cosmetic bag on the table. She went back to get it, and as she was approaching the table, she saw Siddarth  and Pratap take out money and slap it on the table. As she moved closer to the table, she heard Dev imitating a woman's voice and say " Oh Devu, tell me you love me, because I love you", and all three burst out laughing. And Pratap said " Man you are the guru, who would have believed that Kaveri of all the people would have fallen for you." 

Kaveri was devastated, she ran out of the room, sobbing and went straight to her childhood friend Ranjit. She sobbed and told him the whole story. Ranjt listened to her quietly. A little later over a hot cup of tea, Ranjit sagely told her to get a grip and not worry. Ranjit said " Karma is a funny thing, it will get even every time, what goes around comes around." 

Years passed, Kaveri moved to Delhi, and started working in a newspaper. She proceeded to move into a new fashion magazine, slowly making her way up to the editor. Kaveri's success was fueled by a certain sense of anger and urgency. She wanted to succeed, she wanted to make a name for herself. 

She was 36 now, married to a very nice understanding man. Kaveri picked up the phone and called her husband of 5 years "Hi darling, what are you doing for the rest of the day?"

 Never play God, he will always send Karma around to remind you that he exists.

Jackpot...

Some stories in Coorg that makes the rounds have a certain element of legend to them. This is not one of them. This is about a Coorg father who was smart, correction very smart.

In the not so recent past, four friends from Mount Carmel college,on summer break, decided to go to Delhi for a holiday. Money was no object, they were all staying at the Oberoi hotel, near Mathura road.

One evening they decided to go clubbing, so they all took a hotel taxi and went to Hauz Khas village, to a uber – chic place called “Out of this box”. Kirti Shetty was from Mangalore, and her brother Kartik had called up some friends in Delhi and they were told to look after his sister and her friends. On arriving at the venue, Simone Kalappa, Tanya Gowda and Soumya Reddy along with Kirti all hit the dance floor.

While they were dancing, they were being watched from the bar, by Kartik’s friend Sid and his two other friends Jacky and Vineet. Sid gave the guys the lowdown on all the girls. Kirti was off limits, her brother would kill them. Jacky’s eyes fell on Simone, she was gorgeous, tall, with light eyes, and full lips. He also noticed her discreet Rolex with diamonds, her limited edition monogrammed Louis Vuitton bag, solitaire diamonds on her ears. “This one seems rich”..he thought to himself “let me patao her”. He was a good looking boy, 27 years of age, with a job as a sales man at the Porche dealership in Delhi. A job he had landed because of Sid’s connections. Everytime he came to the nightclub, he would remove money from the cash register at the dealership, and return it the next day. Today he had done the same thing. He now decided to impress the girls with the money. When they all came back for a drink to the bar, he introduced himself, and then proceeded to take out bundles of cash from his back pocket, slammed it on the bar counter and told the bar man “A round of champagne for the girls”. They all protested, and after much coaxing, agreed to have some wine. Jacky, was at his wittiest best. Sid and Vineet knew what was happening. They also played up to the gallery. Call him Sethji – a play on his surname Sethi. Might as well lay it on thick, after all they were never going to see these girls again.

Soon Simone and Jacky are dancing together, first its to Hindi music, and all the mad gyrations, and as the DJ changed the mood to mellow and romantic, they are soon slow dancing and looking deep into each others eyes.

Around 3 in the morning, they all decide to get some food to eat, and Sid has a suggestion that they should try out the road side dhaba’s for some really good food. All were in agreement, they all leave the club and climbed into the Porche Cayanne that Jacky was driving. Simone sat in the front, with Jacky and they held hands all the time, all the rest squeezed in at the back. They drove to Humayan’s tomb, where there was a dhaba called “Aap ke khatir”, they got out of the car to stretch their legs. Simone and Jacky decided to stay in the car, and continued to talk. The rest all ordered some food. And as the evening progressed, all begin to notice that Simone and Jacky had their eyes only each other.

At around 4 in the morning, Simone startled everyone with a loud “Yes”…Kirti, Soumya and Tanya rushed back to the car and find that Jacky had proposed to Simone and she had said yes. Simone felt that Jacky and she were soul mates. Sid came up to Jacky, gives him a big hug and whispered “Teri to lottery lag gaye”. Jacky just grinned and nodded his head. Yes he had hit jack pot. During the course of the evening, Simone had told Jacky that she was the only child of her parents. Her Dad Mr. Kalappa, had extensive property in Coorg, had a bungalow off Brigade road in Bangalore, and two apartments, a bungalow in Chennai, on Mount road, two flats in Mysore, two flats in Cochin. Jacky quickly did a mental calculation, and thought to himself. "I will not have to work for the rest of my life!”. But he knew he had to act fast. He turned to Simone and went down on his knees and in front of all her friends “Marry me NOW”. After all shubh kaam mei kya deri…why wait for good fortune.

At this point Kirti broke away from the crowd and went to make a call to her brother Kartik. He immediately told her to call Simone’s Dad Mr. Kalappa. He had met Simone’s father and thought him to be a very formidable man. She called Simone’s father and told him everything.

Kalappa was a very respected man in Coorg, he was known to never lose his cool and always gave very good advice to people. He quickly collected his thoughts, and played it smart. He called Simone on her mobile, and after hearing her out, told her that he would like his only daughter to be married off in the pomp and glory befitting his status, and none of this eloping nonsense would do. He then asked her to invite Jacky and his family to Coorg, for a full fledged marriage with all the traditions of the Coorgs.

Three days later, Simone, Jacky, his parents Mr and Mrs. Sethi, his elder brother Rajesh, younger sisters Anupama and Anuradha, arrived in Coorg. They were greeted with the traditional aarti, and then Simone’s father requested for a private meeting with Jacky. His eyes glistening with tears he said “I need to speak to my future son in law alone, after all I am giving him my most precious child, the apple of my eyes.” All of them agreed and Jacky and Mr Kalappa retired to the study upstairs. As soon as the study door shut by Mr. Kalappa, he turned around and faced Jacky and his demeanor changed. His eyes narrowed and he lowered his voice, and in an icy tone, told Jacky to sit.

He then went to his desk and sat on his chair. He leaned over the office table and slowly said “Listen to me very carefully, I will count till a hundred, if you and your family are not off my property by then I will shoot you with the gun here”, pointing at the double barrel above his desk on the wall. Leaning back he started counting, “One, two, three……”

Two years later, Simone married her neighbour's son Cariappa. She never forgave her father for that day, but as Kalappa liked to say to his wife “She will get over it”…

The Dead End

The year was 1991.The telephone rang, waking up DCP Rathore. He picked up the phone, listened for a few minutes and left for the police station immediately. There had been another shoot out. This time, a prominent builder from Lokhandwala had been shot late at night, coming out of his mistress's apartment. The builder Mr. Sanjay Kapur had been receiving death threats for quite some time, and had gone to the police and lodged a complaint. The police had been monitering his telephone calls.

Inspector Rathore reached the site of the shootout. The place was a mess, it had been raining, and the roads were covered with mud, blood. The man had run for his life, and he could very clearly smell fecal matter, the victim had emptied out his bowels out of fear before he finally died.

DCP Rathore sighed, this was the fourth death this year, it was getting very tiresome. They found two bullet marks on the victim. One on his right leg, and one right in the middle of his temple. Rathore barked order for his men to first cordon off the area, not allowing any reporters to take any photographs and then search the area for gun casing.

The next day the Chief Minister of Maharastra Sharad Pawar, issued a statement about how the murderer would be found. The crime branch was called in by the Commissioner of Police, he wanted the killer or killers to be caught, dead or alive he did not care. The police started thier investigation, it was a slow and painful one, because either people had not seen anything, or did not want to say anything out of fear of repurcussion. One week into the investigation, they discovered a Soviet made SVD Dragunov, found in one of the dumpsters, one lane away from the shootout. Immediately it was sent to the forensics for both fingerprints and bullet analysis. They hit pay dirt, one bullet matched the gun. That was the puzzling bit, the bullet that hit the leg had been shot with the SVD they found, what about the one that killed him, the one through the head? No said the forensic experts, this bullet has been fired from another gun. They came back with some smudged finger prints as well, on sending these to the lab, for carefully reconstruction, they were found a match. They belonged to an ex -army jawan. His name was K. Devaya, he had been a sniper in the army and had served in the IPKF in Jaffna in 1987.

The police started their man hunt for Devaya.

Devaya had left the Army in 1987, and had moved to then Bombay in 1988. He was a widower, with one daughter. He lived in Ghatkopar, and worked in the mill area of Parel, in an import export house. The police managed to find his house, but when they reached, it had been locked up. The neighbours told the police that he had left hurriedly a couple of days back, telling the neighbours that his mother was very ill and that he had to go home. The police then went to all the train and bus stations, and finally in the Dadar station, one ticket collecter recalled that he had bought a ticket for the Rajadhani express to Delhi. The man hunt for Devaya lasted for months. They finally found him in Arunachal Pradesh, with an ex -army colleague of his. He was brought to Bombay and locked up in Arthur road jail, in maximum security.

DCP Rathore spent many hours interrogating Devaya, he slowly pieced together his story. Devaya had moved to Mumbai in search of work. While working in the import export business, one of his friends had introduced him to betting on horses. This had become addictive, Devaya had lost a lot of money and the touts began to threaten him for the money. One day he was approached by a tout, who had a job for him. They told him that his debts, now mounting to Rs 7 lakhs would be forgotten, all he had to do in exchange was to shoot a builder. Devaya, was hesitant. Though he was ex- army and had served and fought in Sri Lanka, he had never killed any one in cold blood. They then threatened him, if he did not do it, they would break his hands and legs. DCP Rathore was well aware of how the blackmailing worked. Devaya finally relented. They gave him the gun, and told him when and where and who was it to be carried out.

On that faithful night, Devaya positioned himself outside the apartment block, he was sitting in the car with two other goons. When he fired the first shot he missed, the victim's car windshield exploded. The victim let out a scream and started running away from his car, Devaya shot him again, this time on his leg, the victim collapsed. Hearing the screams of the victim, some passersby stopped, immediately Devaya and the other men, started the car and drove away. Leaving the victim alive. The next day Devaya read in the papers that the victim had died. Devaya panicked and left the city.

DCP Rathore knew that this was no ordinary murder. He rounded up the men Devaya had owed money to, then after some "gentle" persuasion, found out the head of the betting circle, his name was Aziz. He then got Aziz arrested, and brought to the police station. Aziz was thrown into prison and no FIR was written. Aziz was not even allowed to meet with any of his colleagues or family. Aziz was given the third degree treatment, the infamous rubber tyre. The prisoner is tied up and his legs are put through a rubber tyre, and with a bamboo stick covered in cloth, the heels of his feet are beaten mercilessly. No marks will be left on the prisoner, but he will not be able to walk for a few weeks. The pain is unbearable. It had the desired effect. Aziz sang like a canary. He had received a call from Dubai, giving him specific instructions on getting rid of Sanjay Kapur, all he had to do was make it look untraceable. Unfortunately for him, the people in Dubai did not have too much faith in his ability to choose a good shooter. They had also sent one of their own. That was the bullet that had killed Sanjay Kapur.

The police never found the real killer, he had appeared and disappeared into the night like a ghost. It was another dead end.

What does the future hold for you?

Rani, Poulami and Simone were three best friends, who had met in school in Lawrence Ooty. In 1992, in the last year of college in Bangalore, they decided to go on a holiday to Pondicherry together. On their way back from Pondicherry, they decided to stop off in Chennai for a day, before going their separate ways. They were all very excited, they had heard of a Nadi, this community of people in Chennai, who specialize in reading thumb prints. They take a thumb print, and then give the person his/her past lives and present lives, and what the future will hold. They tell you of the Karmic cycle of the soul and how the deeds done in the past, will effect what happens in the future.

The same evening they went to see the Nadi in Adiyar. He lived in a non descript house, and they were taken into a waiting area, and were told that they would be summoned one at a time.

Rani was the first to be called. She was told that in her past life, she was a big Zamindar’s wife, who was exceptionally cruel. She treated her servants really badly. Especially one servant, who looked after her. This servant was born in this life and was going to be her husband. His name would start with the alphabet R, and it would be an arranged marriage and he would also be Bengali like her.

Poulami, went next. She was told that in her previous life, she had been a temple elephant. She had been extremely hard working, and in this life her husband would be the mahout from her previous life and his name would start with K.

Simone was the last to go, and she was told that in her previous life, she had been a man, and was a very unfaithful husband. In this life she would marry a Coorg, it would be an arranged marriage. It would be a loveless marriage, she would have two kids, and when the elder son was 17, he would die of drug overdose, and the trauma of his death, would be too much for the couple and they would get divorced.

All three left the Nadi’s house very depressed. Soon they all went their separate ways.

Many years passed. All three friends met up for the 20^th anniversary of the school reunion in Ooty in 2009.

Rani was married to a French gentleman called Peirre Michels. She had met him while flying for Cathay. They were settled in HongKong and he is a pilot.

Poulami is a professer in Pune University, teaching linguistics, happily married to a man 20 years her senior. He had been her mentor in her Phd studies in college. She did not have any kids, but he did have two kids from his previous marriage.

Simone is married to a British banker, she had met him while working as an intern in Citibank. They live in Dubai, and had no plans for kids.

They all remembered that evening well, and had a good laugh about it…or may be it was for their next life?

Oooops...my memory

Muthanna was a snob. Period. Nothing in between. But sometimes God reminds you to be humble, or at least to try to be humble. This is one such story.

The year was 1984, Muthanna was standing at the check in line to catch a flight to London, at the Air India counter in Chennai, then Madras. As he reached the check out counter, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw someone he thought he recognised. A short portly man, in a safari suit, was standing next to him, talking animatedly to another man.

Muthanna finished his check in procedure, checked in his luggage, collected his boarding pass. The flight was not being boarded for another half an hour. So he decided to buy some books. After finishing his purchases, he proceeded towards the security line. There in front of him, was that gentleman again, who turned and looked at Muthanna, and his face lit up into a smile.

He reached over and shook Muthanna's hand vigorously. Muthanna, could not place him, so smiled politely and enquired about his family. They continued to chat, that gentleman said he had got a job in Dubai, and was catching a connecting flight in Bombay now Mumbai. After going through security, both shook hands again. And then just before parting ways, the gentleman asked Muthanna "Sir, now that I am leaving for Dubai, who will cut your hair?"......" Oh MY GOD"..thought Muthanna, "he is my BARBER!"

This story was never repeated to any one for many years, and I hope he is not reading this right now....

Fight for what is rightfully yours...or for ever hold your peace

Vidya and her husband Bopiah, stood on the steps of the courthouse, giving an interview to the press . It was a historic verdict for Vidya, the Supreme Court had ruled in her favour. She looked across the steps at her father and her step mother, and her father turned away in anger and left the building. It had been a long and hard fight, but finally she got justice. Then members of the press, started asking her questions, and she turned and started to reply to each and every one. “I want to send a message”, she said “ to all the women in this country, that we have equal rights under the law”. She paused, “ Equal rights to inheritance, and more importantly, what is rightfully yours, should never be taken away by anyone, whoever they are”.

The people of Coorg had been a bit divided about the whole affair. Vidya and her husband Bopiah had taken her father Pooviah and her step mother Dechu to court for her share in the property. But when she went to the lawyer, it opened a whole other can of worms. The lawyer found that the property had belonged to Vidya’s maternal grandfather, Somanna, who had left it to his only daughter, Divya, who was Vidya’s mother. Divya had died soon after giving birth to Vidya. Her father Pooviah soon remarried. His second wife, Dechu, was an ambitious, beautiful woman. She gave birth to two sons, and subsequently pushed Pooviah to join politics. His rise was slow, and finally he managed to become an Member of Parliament . Over the years, Pooviah had taken an income from the property and slowly built up his own wealth, a substantial fortune. He lived large, secure in the knowledge that no one would claim this property.

When Vidya got married to Bopiah, it was considered a good match. He was an I.A.S. officer, working in Delhi. The marriage was a quick and small affair. Vidya settled into her new life, blissfully happy. One day she opened the newspapers to read about a historic verdict and a change in the law in India, where the women’s bill had been passed, unanimously in the Parliament. This bill had changed the inheritance laws in the country, women now had equal rights. It got Vidya thinking. She spoke to her husband about it. When she went down to Coorg, she asked her Dad for her share in the property. Her father lost his temper and called her an ungrateful wretch. It got worse, he asked her to leave the house and never come back. Vidya, was so offended, that she went to a lawyer. The lawyer did some digging, and through the clerks records in Coorg, found that the bulk of the property did not belong to her father, but was left in the name of her late mother.

It had been 2 years since the revelation. Vidya’s case went from the lower courts, to the higher courts, finally after changing three lawyers, her appeal went to the Supreme Court, and she won the case. The press had got wind of the situation, it was a very unusual case of a daughter suing her father for her share in the property. The case had been building momentum, as it went along. It had been a long and exhausting battle, but one lesson Vidya learnt was that if you do not fight for what is yours you will never get it.

She turned back and looked directly into the camera, and said “ For years, women in India would rather keep the peace with their families, than ask for what is rightfully theirs, I hope with what happened here, they will get bolder and fight for their rights.”

The Heist

Pooviah woke up in the middle of the night to a sound downstairs, he thought he had heard the breaking of glass. Waking up his wife Kami, he told her that he was going to investigate the sound. Their daughter Rani was getting married in a weeks time and soon the house would be full of relatives and friends who were to come from all over the world.

He saw a beam of light coming from the guest bedroom door. On approaching the door, he decided to alert the thieves of his presence, so loudly asked “Who is there?”, and then repeated it in Kannada. The light immediately went off, and the room was plunged into darkness. He reached inside the door and gingerly switched on the light, but found that there was no power. As he moved further into the room, his foot kicked something soft, so he reached down to see what it was, he found a duffel bag, heavy with some objects. At that instant, something swished past above his head. Only then did he realize that the person or persons were armed. Ducking his head, he charged in the direction of the assailant. He made contact with a body and they both fell heavily with a crash onto the ground. The assailants’ weapon clattered to the ground. In the struggle that followed, Pooviah, tried to grab the man. Unfortunately for him, the assailant was half naked and had oiled his body. The assailant kicked Pooviah in the groin, who let out a cry of pain. Pooviah heard the sound of steps, some one was running out of the room. Even though he was in pain, he pulled himself together, got up and chased after the assailant. What the assailant had over him, was the element of surprise, but what Pooviah had over him, was he knew his house like the back of his hand, so he ran towards the kitchen, to get himself a kitchen knife and cut off the assailants exit from the back door. A torch came on in the dining room, the assailant was trying the windows. Pooviah, heard a loud crash of glass shattering, and the assailant was gone. Pooviah ran to the dining room, to find one window completely broken, and one of the dining room chairs missing. He looked out of the window and he saw in the dark what looked like a man running very fast towards the garage. Pooviah jumped through the opened window, giving chase. He followed the man till the garage, only to find that all the tyres of the cars had been slit. He continued to run behind the assailant, by now yelling on the top of his voice, to awake the farm hands. Soon there were a bunch of men, who had gathered, and started chasing the thief. Finally, one of his men threw what looked like a sickle at the thief, and he fell.

When Pooviah reached the man, now sprawled on the ground, unconcious, he was panting, and trying to catch his breath, when one of his farm hands, reached and turned the man over. Pooviah, was very shocked, he had never seen the man before.

The police were called, and the man was taken into custody. In the lock up, under interrogation, the man confessed. He worked as a teaboy in the village restaurant, and overheard Pooviah giving instructions to the florist about the wedding. He knew that there would be lots of jewellery and money in the house, and decided to try his luck. He befriended the maid, on one of her weekly shopping trip into the village, got a lay of the land, and planned his heist. He was startled to hear Pooviah wake up, the maid had told him that the family was going to Bangalore to finalize some of the preparations. That trip was cancelled by Pooviah, as his brother offered to pick up all the outstanding parcels from Bangalore for him.

The wedding went off without a hitch.

Family Tree

In 1969, in a remote village in Coorg, a man was stabbed to death in a barn. The crime was never solved. The killer was absconding, the police searched for clues and kept coming up to a dead end, and the case was closed. The dead man’s name was Shahabuddin. His death would have gone unnoticed, except for the fact that his granddaughter Ayesha in 2009, inherited among other things the diary maintained by him, along with all the other belongings left behind by her mother Arzoo on her untimely death. While going through her mother’s stuff, Ayesha also found a baby’s blanket with the letter P. K. initialed on it.

After performing all the last rites, Ayesha returned to Mysore where she lived. One day she decided to read the diary written in Urdu by her grandfather. What followed was a series of perplexing tales.

In 1947 at the at of 22, on the eve of the Indian Independence, Shahbuddin was working as a houseboy cum cook in a wealthy Coorg’s Kaverappa’s house. Shahabuddin’s wife Khatija, was expecting their first child. Khatija went into labour that night, and it lasted for around 14 hours. They had a baby girl, and the mother was overjoyed. She had miscarried many times before and had prayed that this time the baby would be healthy and safe. Shahabuddin took the child into his arms and walked out of the house to show the neighbours. Khatija went off to sleep, exhausted by the ordeal, and when she woke up, the child was safely bundled up, and asleep. The mother looked at the child and whispered into her ear “Arzoo…that is your name, as you are what I have prayed for.”

At the same time across the estate in the main house, Kamava the wife of Kaverappa, was giving birth to their third child. The child was a baby girl and immediately after the birth, the child was carried away by the midwife to get bathed. Kaverappa, who had been pacing up and down outside, immediately rushed into the room to be with his wife. He was a very happy man, he had wanted a daughter badly. He was going to call her Ganga, after the holiest of holy rivers in India.

Both children grew up under different circumstances, and both much loved by their parents. When they reached adulthood, both girls were married. Arzoo was married to a man in Mysore, who owned a bakery, and within the first couple of years, produced first a boy Armaan and then her daughter Ayesha. Then one day Arzoo, got a telegram from Coorg, her father had died. She rushed to Coorg and found her mother inconsolable, her father Shahbuddin had been murdered, stabbed to death. After performing the last rites, Arzoo returned to Mysore , but her mother refused to join her. She had found work as a cook in the main house, and was being looked after by Kaverappa . He had come for the funeral, and spared no expenses in looking after all her needs. He was meeting Arzoo for the first time, and spent some time asking her how she was doing, and if she was happy.

Life soon returned to normal, and many years passed, Ayesha grew up, into a beautiful girl, both her and her brother’s education was paid for by Kaverappa, and he made sure they received the best. Arzoo was very proud of how the grandchildren of a cook were now having good steady Government jobs. She would all her neighbours, that Ayesha and Armaan were like family to Mr. Kaverappa.

Ayesha finished reading her grandfather’s diary and had a long talk with her brother. They then boarded a bus for Coorg and went to meet Mr. Kaverappa. Now 86, he was ailing and in bed, but his mind was as sharp as ever. When they walked into his bedroom together, he told all others present to leave the room at once. He then beckoned to both to approach the bed, and then said “I am sorry, please forgive me. What your grandfather did to me was very wrong, and I know two wrongs do not make a right, but I was angry and upset, and I killed him.”

In his own words he narrated to them what transpired that faithful day in 1969. Shahbuddin had come to the barn to ask him for some money, Kaverappa refused. They got into an arguement, and had come to blows, Shahbuddin then picked up a stick and started hitting Kaverappa with it, who in turn dived and picked up a sickle lying on the ground. He stabbed Shahbuddin with it, who reeled back and hit the ground. He died soon after that. But before dying, he made a confession. Shahbuddin had switched his daughter with Kaverappa’s, on the night they were born, and had decided to come clean about it.

Kaverappa looked at Armaan and Ayesha and told them “ You are actually my grandchildren, and if you have it in you to forgive me, I could die a happy man.’
Its been a year since the meeting.

Ayesha and Armaan had just returned from Coorg after attending Kaverappa’s funeral. Kaverappa’s sons embraced their niece and nephew, and though they all knew it would be difficult, it was not impossible to form a new relationship.

First Love...or is it?

It was the day of his son's wedding and Nanda Kurambiah was feeling good. He had not felt this good in a long time. His only son Arjun was getting married to a very pretty girl called Kritika. As far as Nanda was concerned she ticked all the boxes as an ideal wife for his son. But that was not all, the alliance was something that Nanda had been planning for years. He actually was quite surprised at his own obsession. But obsession it was.

When Nanda was a young man, staying in a paying guest accomadation in Coorg, working as a lawyers assistant, he had seen her. She was the neice of his landlord. Kaveri was absolutely beautiful, Nanda was smitten instantly. You hear of love at first sight, well according to Nanda it existed. He silently admired this beautiful creature, she did not even know of his existence. Then he heard that she had gotten engaged to a landed Coorg. Instead of his obsession waning, it actually now took on a new form. He was determined that somehow he would be connected to Kaveri. He made it his life's ambition to succeed, after all that's how he knew he would get noticed. He moved to Bangalore, and set up his own practise. Going from strenght to strenght. His parents then found a suitable bride from a wealthy Coorg family and he got married to her, ironically her name was also Kaveri. He was a good husband, but deep down Nanda knew he did not love her or ever would love her. They had two children, his eldest being Arjun and then his daughter Soumya.

Nanda continued to follow the life of his obsession Kaveri. He soon discovered that she did not have kids for a long time. She then had twin daughters, Kritika and Kavita. The next step in Nanda's plan took shape. He befreinded her husband, and got his kids introduced to her kids. Then he told all who would listen, that he would get his son married to one of the twins.

Now these many years later, his goal had been achieved. He was now forever going to be linked to Kaveri, his first love. He saw in her daughter Kaveri, and his son he saw himself.

Attention Grabbing Syndrome

Mumbai is a very difficult city. You will either love it or hate it. Daisy loved it, she loved every thing about it, the people, the buzz, the chaos and even the smell that every one complained about. Daisy was from Coorg, while studying in Mount Carmel in Bangalore, she had tagged along with a friend of hers for an audition, her friend did not get the part, she did. She was over the moon, and then that started the ball rolling, she participated in the Modelhunt competition held by a leading magazine. She placed on the top three and was invited to Mumbai to participate in the finals, where she did not win but came in second, but was completely starstruck. A famous Bollywood actor crowned her, and she got business cards from all the top agencies. “This is where I need to be, I am not going back to Bangalore”. She then pleaded with her Dad and Mom to let her try her hand at modelling, her father gave in after much negotiations, Daisy would have to finish her college and then she would be given 6 months in Mumbai. “Ok, that sounds fair”, she told her Dad.

Coming to Mumbai was tough, she had to find her self a home, the biggest question single women face in the vast city, but the God’s were smiling down at her, she knew it was a good omen, when in an audition she met another girl from Bangalore. Kavita was a Kannidiga and had moved to Mumbai to try her hand at modeling. She lived in an old part of Bandra , right behind Hill road in the fishing village, in a huge house shared with 3 other girls in the fishing village, the rent was moderate, and they had place for one more girl. Daisy moved in that day. She got the room upstairs, it had a tiled roof, and was absolutely bare. She went out and bought herself a mattress, one pillow and some sheets. She was quickly told the rules in the house, every girl had their own shelf in the fridge, bills split equally, and if boys stay over, they were not to disturb the other girls. Privacy was the most important thing for all the girls. She quickly became friends with all the others in the house, each woman was connected to the media in some way. Pia was a Maharastrian from Kolhapur and worked as the head of production with one of the best advertising house’s in Mumbai. She was no nonsense woman, with a heart of gold and bad taste in men. Malini was from Delhi, half Punjabi and half Scottish, she was a fabulous mix, and worked in as Veejay in one of the top music channels in the country. Parizad was a Parsi, she was married and divorced and was a voice over specialist and a Radio jockey.

Daisy’s career took off, and she was flying all over the country doing shows, and ads, and generally life was good. She periodically joked with her house mates, that the house was a place where she came to wash her clothes. She did not mind the travel, it was hectic and fun, though she did get a bit lonely sometimes. She quickly shook her self out of any such thoughts and realized that she would not exchange this life for any thing else. One day she came home in the afternoon, as usual, and there was a palpable quiet in the house. She went up to her room and came down to make a cup of tea. She heard loud sobbing coming from Malini’s room. Not wanting to intrude on her privacy, Daisy made her cup of tea and went into the dining room. She was sitting sipping her tea and dipping her Marie biscuits in the tea, and generally enjoying the peace and quiet, when Malini walked in. Her face was swollen and her eyes puffed up from continuously crying. She walked past Daisy, went to the cupboard, took out a bottle of Vodka, and walked back into her room. Daisy was now a bit alarmed. Wondering what she should do, she went looking for her room mates. She found Pia and Kavita sitting in Pia’s room, both were reading. So immersed in their reading were they , they did not even look up when Daisy entered. Its only when she spoke did they look up. She quietly told them about Malini, they looked at her and Pia rolled her eyes. Kavita told her in Kannada to just ignore the whole thing.

The next day Daisy was off to Goa for a shoot for a calendar for a liquor baron. When she returned, one week later, everything seemed to okay again. Relieved, as she hated drama, Daisy went to her room and having been exhausted with all the work and partying in Goa, she decided to crash, even though it was only the morning, she told Kavita she did not want to be disturbed and to take a message if the phone rang. She slept soundly, but around two was woken with some sounds downstairs. Thinking that it was an intruder, she picked up her tennis racket, and walked down the stairs as stealthily as she could. The sound was coming from the kitchen, and as she approached she saw a light. Feeling foolish that no burglar would switch on lights, she put down her tennis racket and walked into the kitchen to find Malini cutting onions, her eyes were streaming with tears. There were about twenty onions in a basket and a huge mound of chopped onions on one side. Daisy approached her and said “Every thing okay? Why are you chopping onions in the middle of the night?”, to which Malini replied that she was going to cook. So Daisy asked her if she could help. Malini told her no, “just leave me alone and go back to sleep”. Slightly alarmed by her tone, Daisy went to Kavita’s door and knocked on her door, Kavita came out, looking very sleepy. Daisy explained to her what was happening downstairs, they then came down together, they then went to Parizad’s room and woke her up. Parizad, being the oldest of the lot, took matters into her own hands, marched into the kitchen and asked Malini “what the hell are you doing in the middle of the night?”. They started arguing, voices steadily rising till they were both were screaming at each other. Daisy did not understand every thing, but “boyfriend dumped me”, “selfish ass”, “get a grip” was being shouted at each other. Finally Malini picked up the knife and turned, screaming like a banshee, with a look of madness in her eyes, charged at Parizad. What followed was that all three women, scattered, Daisy ran up the stairs, Kavita towards the front door and Parizad towards her bedroom. In the commotion, Daisy found she was still holding her tennis racket. She turned and ran down the stairs, and went running behind Malini, who was now chasing Parizad around the dining room, both screaming obscenities at each other. Daisy took a wide swing and hit Malini, the racket caught Malini on her arm and the knife fell down, then Daisy hit her again, but this time, at the back of her legs. Malini fell down, Parizad threw her self on top of her and tried to restrain her. By now Kavita was in the room, she also jumped on Malini.

At this point, the front door opened and in walked Pia, with her production team. They had gone pubbing and had come over a late night meal, of omelette sandwiches and tea. They came running into the dining room on hearing the commotion and found a sobbing Malini , straddled by Parizad and Kavita while Daisy had gone to get a bucket of water to throw on her. They all were separated, and over much accusations, and indignant statements, the story was narrated.

Malini had been dumped by her model/actor boyfriend, and had not taken it too kindly to find out that he had dumped her for another Veejay in the same channel. To make matters worse, she was the last one to know about it, and Malini concluded “she is soo bloody ugly, how could he dump me for her?” Pia, went into the kitchen first made tea for everybody, then used some of the chopped onions to make the omlettes, and then after feeding every body, told all present to go either go home or into their rooms.

The next day, Malini was asked to move out, it was a unanimous decision , as Pia told her “we had enough of your attention getting drama, we all have our ups and downs, but my God you take the cake and the bakery.” That evening she left for Scotland to be with her family, and peace returned to the house.

Politics makes strange bedfellows...

Anil opened the wedding invitation. He was surprised to receive an invitation, and even more so when he read the contents.

“….Shri Rachianda Cariappa and his wife Jaya, request the pleasure of your company at the marriage of their son Ponappa to Kavya daughter of …..”. Ponappa, now that’s a name he had not heard in a long time. He felt a tingle, it had been 8 years, but the name could still evoke that response.

Anil Medappa was studying for his engineering degree in RVCE- Engineering college in Bangalore in 1990. He was in his third year, and that year had decided to run for the President of the student union. He was being opposed by a heavy weight called T. Suresh, who had political backing. The moment he applied for the candidate's position, he started receiving threats. His phone would ring in the middle of the night and a voice would ask him to withdraw his nomination. This went on for about two weeks. Anil refused to back down. They started harassing him during the day, his motor bike tyres of his Yezdi were slashed, they would not let anybody in the canteen serve him even a cup of tea.

One day Anil found a note, which fell out of his books. Thinking that it was another death threat, he picked it and was about to toss it into the dustbin, when he stopped and opened it. The message was simple and clear. It just said “ Go and meet R.C. Ponappa”.

R. C. Ponappa was a legend. An ex student of RVCE, his name still made some of the professors and students quake in their boots. Various urban legends about the man and his bravery had been circulating the college. His nick name was Acid Ponappa. The story goes that a bunch of goons attacked him with hockey sticks and cycle chains, they had cornered him near the college chemistry lab. Only to have one guy loose his eyesight, two break their necks and one to have third degree burns. There was no one to verify these stories, and as R.C did not either deny or agree, these rumours grew. He was a man of few words and a black belt in Karate.

Anil went to meet him the next day at his house. He introduced himself, and told him about the upcoming elections. R. C told him that he would pick him up the next day morning at 8 o’clock from his house. The next day in the morning sharp 8, R.C was out side his house on his Royal Enfeild. He and Anil went to the college together. R. C then walked into the canteen with him, ordered two cups of tea and bread butter sandwich. The canteen was packed with students and staff, when Anil entered with R.C, a hush fell onto the crowd. R. C then proceeded to eat the sandwich very slowly, the whole canteen watching every move he made. He then got up, and asked Anil to come till the door with him, at the door, he shook hands with Anil and looked around the room slowly and left.

Anil won the elections in a land slide victory. He stood unopposed, his opponent, suddenly fell very sick.

Anil was definitely going to attend the wedding….only if it was to see who was brave enough to marry the man…..

Charkavyuha - the story of a brave soldier

The year was 1787, Muthanna and his clan had been fighting the armies of Tipu Sultan for three weeks. The men were weary and exhausted, but had taken a solemn oath of never to be caught or converted. Tippu’s army was moving across Coorg, they had started out at Mysore, and then moved West, capturing, killing and converting as they went along. The Raja of Coorg had decided to fight them. His army, a disparate group of clans from Coorg, were united in the common cause of fighting this army. Muthanna, was from the Biddanda clan, the elder of the clan had been killed the previous evening, in a sword fight. Muthanna shouted the order to withdraw and his clan melted into the hill side. Tippu’s men tried to chase them for a bit, but the sun was setting and then decided it would be futile.

That evening around the camp fire, while the injured were being looked after, Muthanna sat with his men and ate the food being prepared by his wife and the other women. They started discussing the day, and Muthanna began narrating the days events to the women. His wife Thangamma, listened quietly and then said only one word “Chakravyuha’. Muthanna asked her what did she mean by that, and she mentioned that in the great Mahabharata war, Dronacharya, the teacher of all the Pandava’s and Kaurava’s taught them about the most difficult formations, to break the enemy’s attack. It was about positioning the most powerful fighters, so as to inflict the maximum damage to the enemy. She told him “You do not win a war with might, but with brains’. Muthanna listened to his wife, and had to agree that she was right. They needed a strategy.

Muthanna did not get sleep the whole night. Try as he might, the words of his wife kept playing in his head. He awoke early, and then started putting a plan together. He knew they had one advantage over Tipu’s army, they knew the territory. His men needed to use the element of surprise, short raids, quick attacks, and maximum damage. He divided his clan into three teams, the front team were to attack the last, the attack would start from behind, then the middle section would be attacked and then finally the front. The idea was to create chaos, the rains had started in earnest to add to the confusion and it was bitterly cold.

Early in the morning, he gathered his clan together, and chalked out the plan. His men, who trusted him, wanted to win. He sent his brother Devaya, with ten others to the top of the hill. He sent his cousin Nanjappa to the middle of the hill, and asked them to take cover behind the outcrop of stones, and he positioned himself and his group at the entrance of the valley, from where the army would pass to start climbing the hill to get to the other side. Their call sign was the cuckoo birds tweet, three long one short. Only then would they be attacking. It had to happen within minutes of each other.

It was mayhem, Muthanna and his men caused the maximum destruction to Tipu’s army. In the ensuing confusion, Muthanna and his men escaped into the hills. This was the starting of a series of small victories and battles, between the Coorgs and Tipu’s army, and Muthanna’s legend grew, and stories of his bravery and cunning reached Tipu. Tipu called his Army Commander in Chief- Yaar Muhammed, and told him he wanted Muthanna dead or alive. Yaar Mohammed, was a brave and brilliant strategist. He decided to smoke Muthanna out of hiding, and he literally did just that. He started burning village after village in Coorg, making the women and kids homeless. He knew that one day he would exhaust his opponent. They played a cat and mouse game, it lasted for seven months. In the summer of 1788, Muthanna was killed. When Tipu heard the news he sent word to Yaar Muhammed to get him proof of this. Yaar Muhammed reached the Srirangapatnam fort and entered the palace and went straight to Tipu’s private chambers. He carried with him the decapitated head of Muthanna. He presented the head covered in cloth to Tipu. When Tipu removed the cloth, he was shocked on how handsome, young and regal the man was. Muthanna was buried with full military honors, as befitting a General.

The story of Muthanna is one of many in Coorg, and in many biography’s of Tipu Sultan, there is a mention of the bravery of the Coorgs. The Coorgs finally lost the war against Tipu Sultan, and he formed a Coorg battalion, which fought against the British.

CIRCLE OF FREINDS

Sunanda’s story

Sunanda’s daughter Padma was getting married. The family was in the middle of all the preparations. Sunanda did a mental checklist, flowers had been ordered, caterers were setting up, the wedding planner had a team of people, putting up the tents, bringing in the cushions, the makeup artist was upstairs doing up the bride and her friends. Sunanda remembered her own wedding, a more modes t wedding in the 1960’s. She had just finished her graduation in Home Science and she was getting married. Her husband Pratap Muthanna, had been working in the middle east, in Abu Dhabi, and came from a good family. He was an engineer working in the oil and gas industry in Abu Dhabi. That seemed so long ago, it almost seemed like another life. Sunanda shook her self out of the reverie and went up to look at how her daughter Padma was doing.
Padma was a pretty girl, she had long hair, thick lashes and lovely olive skin. Her parents had very high expectations of her, and so when she came home one day in Abu Dhabi with Arjun Koshy, a Malyalee boy she had met in college, they were disappointed. Arjun was a nice boy, but as Sunanda delicately hinted to her friends was not from the same “background” as them. Padma was stubborn, she would get married to Arjun and nobody else. Sunanda’s best friend Preeti had been Padma’s confidante. It was in Preeti’s house that Arjun met Padma, and with her full encouragement, they started seeing each other. Sunanda and Pratap were the last ones to know.

Sunanda and Preeti, were in a group of five women, who in Abu Dhabi was nicknamed “the Unhappy Wives club”. All of them had husbands with roving eyes. Pratap was the worst, since he took Sunanda completely for granted. It was a known fact that he would have affairs with all his secretary’s in quick succession, and then they would either be transferred or sacked. Initially he thought he loved Sunanada, only to quickly realize that it was an infatuation and he then looked at her as the mother of his kids. He then in predictable in quick succession hit on most of her friends. Preeti had not been spared either. Despite all this the women stayed friends, an uneasy friendship, which had lasted for the last 20 odd years.
Sunanda entered the room, found her daughter, with all her friends laughing and giggling, and in the corner Preeti was standing, getting out the jewellery and glass bangles from boxes. Preeti, was a stunningly beautiful Punjabi lady. She had tall, statuesque, with long hair, framing a face, with big eyes, strong straight nose, and a lovely smile that lit up her face. She turned and smiled at Sunanda and continued to sort out the jewellery.

Preeti’s story

Preeti Chibber, was 20 years old, when she got married after finishing her Bachelors in Political science from Miranda House in Delhi. Her husband Chetan Chibber, was working in Abu Dhabi, as an accountant with a trading company. He was an only child, and a complete Mommy’s boy. Preeti had, from day one problems with her inlaws. When she had a daughter, it just got worse. She then produced two more daughters and it just got worse. Husband and wife would fight non stop. Chetan was best described as an indifferent husband. When Pratap made a pass at Preeti, she was very upset. What angered her more , was the fact Pratap knew that Chetan would not do anything. Few days later, she met Sunanda and told her about the incident. Sunanda just apologized to her “Pratap is like that, don’t take it to heart, he was drunk’. He was not drunk, even Sunanda knew that was a lie.

Something snapped in Preeti that day, she wanted to get even. She wanted Pratap to feel the hurt, the hurt that he had put his wife through and all the other women. Patience , she told her self, your time will come. Today Preeti had her revenge, Pratap’s daughter Padma, the apple of his eye, was getting married to a boy Pratap completely disapproved of, there was nothing Pratap could do.

After all, Preeti knew, only a child could bring a parent to their knees. Today , Pratap was on his knees.

MOTHER EARTH.........CALLING

Arvind Monappa rushed to the Cubbon Park Police station in Bangalore. The voice at the other end of phone sounded tired, but Inspector T. Ashok had something new for him.

“Come to the station, I have something interesting for you , something you will love to investigate”.

Cryptic, but enough to pique his attention. Arvind was having dinner with his friends, when he excused himself and rushed off to the police station. This was too good to miss.

He arrived at the station at 9.30pm on a Monday evening, and went straight into to meet the Inspector.

The inspector was speaking to an old couple, he saw Arvind and gestured to him to take a seat near the window. Arvind had a good vantage point of the room, and could overhear the conversation. The parents had come to lodge a complaint. The complaint was being lodged against Swami Shivananda Parmahasana, and his followers. The parents alleged that their daughter Devika, had been enticed and kidnapped by the Swami. The Inspector made some polite sounds, and sympathetic clucking sounds and after giving them a cup of tea, led them to the door. After telling them that he would get to the bottom of it, he asked his Havaldar to see them to the door.
He returned back to his desk, and gestured for Arvind to join him. Inspector Ashok was a man of few words, so Arvind knew that when he spoke, he better listen carefully.

The Inspector had a simple task. He wanted Arvind to investigate the Swami, this had been the fourth complaint against the man. It was the same story. All the women were single, either divorced or widowed, and from wealthy families. They were first lured into the group by one of his followers, by a promise of becoming spiritually evolved. They were all made to understand that this was journey to something bigger and better. Slowly they were weaned away from family and friends, and in some cases had given away all their wealth, money, jewelry and property to the Swami or his bhakt’s , with a promise of eternal salvation.

Arvind was very excited, this was the first time in two years, since he had become the crime reporter, that he was happy to write about something that according to the Inspector, was the fastest growing undetected crime in Bangalore. He took the address of Devika’s parents and three other people from the Inspector. The next day he went to meet them.

Devika’s parents were from Coorg. The father , Mr. Medappa had been working in Consolidated Coffee, and had his own estate in Virajpet. Devika was the elder of two kids, the younger son was living abroad. The father had suffered a massive heart attack about five years back. Mrs. Medappa, was a housewife, who was a kindly old lady. She was confused about what was happening. Arvind, showed his newspaper’s card to introduce himself. He told them that he was investigating the Swami, and wanted to bring it into the open, so that this extortion would stop. It was like a flood gate had opened. Mr. Medappa, broke down and cried. Arvind put the pieces together. Her parents knew something was wrong, when Devika came over one day and asked for her share in the family money. She wanted nearly twenty lakh rupees immediately, as it was extremely important for her Swamiji to perform a puja, with his main disciple Shyamlee Kurrupuswamy Singh. Shyamlee was Devika’s main contact with the Swamiji. She gave Devika messages from the Swamiji in exchange for money. First the amounts that had been given were small, then they began to grow. Mrs. Medappa soon found her jewelry missing, silver candlesticks gone. She did not want to alarm her husband, so she kept quiet about it. Only when one day Devika came and demanded her share of the property , did the parents think something was very wrong.
It was the same story with the other three people. Each had some family member who had been involved with the Swamiji, and in all three cases Shymalee was the messenger. Arvind, went in the morning and gave this information to the producer of the television network he worked for. The producer was thrilled, it was an opportune moment to conduct a sting operation on the Swamiji and his disciples. There were four reporters assigned to this case, each was assigned a task. Arvind was given the task of following Shymalee. Two others were given the task of following the Swamiji, one by infiltrating the ashram as a devotee, and the other posing as an NRI from the middle east, in search of spiritual gratification. One reporter, was sent as a reporter herself to interview the Swamiji for her daily newspaper, and to get quotes for the ladies section of the newspaper.
It took them four months, but they had enough information to put away the Swamiji and Shymalee for years. When they broad cast this on their network, all the other channels got onto the bandwagon and the Ashram was bombarded by the press. The police became part of the sting operation and conducted a raid on the Ashram. They found nearly twenty women there. Women who had left their homes to come and live in the Ashram, among them was Devika.

It has been a year since this incident. Devika now lives in Coorg with her parents. Under their watchful eye, she is making a slow but positive recovery. The Swami is on the run, and has gone into hiding. Shyamlee, protested her innocence in the whole deal and is still seen around Bangalore, probably doing the same thing to someone else.

Her opening line to most of the women was “ I am Mother Earth and I am here to give you what you truly deserve”.

Daughter of the Soil

The year was 1902.

Ganga was only 16 years old when she married Bheemiah. He was 44 and she was his second wife. His first wife Yeshi was unwell. She had been unwell for about 9 years, she had been bed ridden for the last 5 of those years. She had had a break down one day, no body knew what had happened. But the house hold help found her on the kitchen floor, moaning and crying incoherently one night. The children were young then, and the incident did not have much of an impact on them. Over the years Yeshi’s health deteriorated even further, and she then spent many hours in bed, sullen and morose and refused to leave her room.

The family elders one day met and they decided that Bheemiah needed to get married again. Because the children needed a mother. They sent a proposal to Ganga’s family asking for her hand in marriage. Ganga’s Dad had died when she was very young, leaving the family in dire circumstances. Her eldest brother, was very happy when they got this proposal. Ganga, was what people described as a handsome plain woman, crude, and very industrious. She accepted her fate unquestioningly. On her wedding night, her husband came to her room, sat her down and told her very plainly that he would always love his first wife, and they would sleep in separate rooms. He would however give her full control of the house, and she would never be denied anything. Ganga, quickly settled into her new life. She now had the responsibility of caring for the family and did a good job of that. She looked after the kids, her in laws, even his first wife Yeshi.

Her mother in law and father in law were kind people, who looked at her as the best thing that had happened to the family. Bheemiah had only one sister Thulasi, a widow who stayed with them. She had been widowed very early, and had been sent back to her parents house by her in laws. The rejection society had meted out on her festered like a cancer inside her, and in turn, this manifested itself in to her being very nasty. She would pick on Ganga, who kept quiet most of the time, actually indifferent to her barbs. This got Thulasi more incensed, and one day she decided she was going to take matters into her own hands.

Every night, before turning in for the night, Ganga would go to the kitchen and get a glass of hot milk for her in laws. She would then turn off the lamps in the house, room after room and turn in for the night. One day as usual Ganga was closing up for the night, when she heard a slight sound out side the kitchen. The sound that came was like glass bangles tinkling at night. Curious, Ganga went and opened the back door of the kitchen, thinking that maybe one of the household maid’s was there. But she got a shock of her life, because there stood Thulasi, wearing a diaphanous, wet robe, with her hair askew and holding a candle. She charged at Ganga, shrieking loudly, expecting the same reaction that Yeshi had had, those many years ago. Ganga took a step back, when suddenly the famous Coorg bravery took over her, letting out a roar, she charged at Thulasi and pushed her really hard. Thulasi lost her balance, fell sideways, and hit her head against the iron grill door of the outhouse and died on the spot. The household help found her there the next day morning .The police did not press charges, Thulasi clearly had slipped and fallen 

Ganga lived till she was 80, strong, wise and brave till the end. Jamba Kodavti, a word that describes the Daughter of the Soil.

Pawn in my hands

Belliappa was 55 in 1988 when he had a car accident. There was no major damage, except a broken arm. But when in hospital, surrounded by his only sister Devaki and his brother Jappu, something occurred to him. He realized then that he was all alone, and being unmarried, with no kids, he would have nobody to look after him when he got old. Belliappa was a brilliant criminal lawyer, with a booming practice in Bangalore. He was the eldest of three, his sister Devaki was three year younger had two kids, one son – Rahul and one daughter Kaveri. His younger brother Jappu had two daughters – Dechu and Deepa. Over the years he had amassed a considerable fortune, invested shrewdly in property and shares.

Lying in bed in the hospital, see his brother and sister fuss over him in the hospital, a plan formed in his head. While pretending to be under heavy painkillers, he ranted in his sleep that he would only leave his money to the family member who looked after him.

For the next 20 years, Belliappa enjoyed the love and attention of his family. Both his brother and sister were determined that their kids would inherit the bulk of his estate. His only nephew Rahul, would visit him every day. Driving him from his doctors appointment, to the club in the evening and also to buy his provisions. Jappu’s daughters, would try and visit him every month, and call him every week, and literally thrust their children down his throat. Belliappa enjoyed all the attention, playing along innocently.

Then in Jan of 2010 he died. Suffering a massive stroke, he slipped into a coma, and never recovered. The family mourned his passing. On the 15th day of his passing, the executor of his will contacted the family and asked them to gather in his office at Brigade Road. His brother Jappu, his two daughters Dechu and Deepa and their respective spouses were present. So was his sister Devaki, her husband, her son Rahul and his wife present. The only person missing was Kaveri his niece. She had moved to Mumbai in 1992. Got into theatre and basically would have nothing to do with the family. She was by Coorg standards not very successful, but she was very happy. She had come down for the funeral, stayed for the puja’s and left.

The executor started to read out the will. In his monotonous voice, he divided up the estate, and described each property. He then mentioned all the monies in various accounts, he also mentioned the sale of the shares and the monies accrued thereof. Some of the money had been willed to the Coorg Education trust, some to other charities. The lawyer then droned about the caveat in the will, that if any body decided to contest the will, they would be counter sued by the executor. The will was the final testament and Belliappa had written this with all his faculties being sane and intact. The build up to the last part was too much for the family, who by now were out of their seats, bursting with anticipation.

The executor then started reading the last part of the will “ I, Belliappa have left the bulk of my estate to my niece Kaveri, the reason I did this is because she is the only member of my family who did not have a vested interest in my money. Greed is not a quality one admires."