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?