Best kept Secrets

In these times of investigative reporting, sting operations and the new found access to many of the Government’s activities and deeds through the Right to Information act (RTI), the best kept secrets of especially the Hukumath are found on the front page headlines of the National and regional news dailies. And for good measure, popular newsweeklies and fortnightlies run deeply investigated and well researched features in their pages that leave no fig leaf for cover. The erring Nethas or the corporate honcho is stripped of all cover and has to depend only on denial for defending their position. Not that it shakes up their situation or position in any significant way. They merely suffer a temporary set back and the scandal is quickly forgotten, giving prominence to the next bigger scam that gets reported next morning. We the people have a right to know. But mere public knowledge is not a deterrent to the enactment of the next scam. Prosecution of a harsh and unmerciful nature must follow.

Secrets small and big cross our lives from childhood the deathbed. How many of us can keep a secret intact? I for one can’t! My wife calls me a loose mouth and, I even suspect she chooses what “secrets” can be told to me. I do make an effort to keep it that way. But along the way, somewhere I do blurt it out to someone if in a somewhat conspirational tone. Spymasters, secret agents, intelligence agencies having ultra vital secrets are all lore of the realm. But for the mere mortal that I am, keeping a so-called secret bound within me is a little difficult. Yes, necessary caution is definitely mandated. The world war generated aphoristic maxims, “Loose lips sink ships and the other one about walls having ears “ did have significance with relevance to their times.  True also that Gorbachev’s glasnost and perestroika, the transparency and restructuring policies, while doing great things for the Russian people, in a way eventually fragmented the once mighty Soviet Union.

No secret is really sacred anymore. Right from private affairs and proclivities of the high and mighty, the rich and famous to the sordidness of common individuals are grist for the newspaper mills. Not a day can you scan the news papers or watch TV news channels without some dirty linen being bandied about for everyone to see. Big brother is always watching! The secrets that really need to be kept locked in steel safes are the military and antiterrorism measures and efforts and those of the police’s efforts to apprehend criminals are out in the open too. Scam by politicians, individuals and even the personnel of the armed services losing their integrity for material gratification has become so passé. However the conclusions of the investigations that follow at considerable expense to the public exchequer are generally themselves well-kept secrets. The parts that are revealed to the public are the air brushed version leaving out more important names and details.

India could well do with its own glasnost in the running of the country. The demand for transparency and honesty from the lawmakers and the mandarins is gaining momentum. Naturally there is severe resistance to Lokpal bill’s drafting as envisaged by people who really want to rein in the runaway corruption. The establishment want to water it down so much, we might as well not have the new legislation passed. Let us hope the proposed new laws to bring to book the thieves and charlatans who rob the public, will come in to effect and a New India emerges with the transparency of the waters of a mountain lake.

Written on 29/12/2013

Third Party Insurance claims on road accidents

To those unfortunate enough to be a victim of another driver’s / rider’s carelessness and negligent driving, my sympathy goes out to you. Having been a victim of one such accident (this is apart from the regular quota of little bumps, dents and innumerable scratches your vehicle collects on your routine outings), third party damage recovery for small damages – by which I mean a visible dent in your car or a head light or tail light cluster breaking – in nearly impossible (as my experience here in Bangalore turned out) as one will most likely not have the time or the courage to go through with this tedious process. The tragedy is even if a very determined soul, with plenty of time in hand is willing to risk adding insult and further injury to their already damaged car or bike, they can never be sure that there will be gold at the end of the rainbow. Let me explain this somewhat confusing statement.

Imagine a situation where you are peacefully driving along following the rules. You stop at an intersection and are waiting for the signal to turn green. Suddenly you hear a big thud, get violently jolted. You look around frantically and realize that someone has hit you from behind. The driver of the car that hit you comes around and says he is sorry etc. Gives you the copy of his comprehensive insurance policy asking you to claim the damages from them and his trouble are over and yours begin.

You call the insurance company. On the N th attempt an indifferent voice tells you to file a police complaint and bring them the order from the court to pay damages. Not losing heart yet, you go to the traffic police station and the policeman man on duty there tells you to give complaint in writing. So far, so good. But here comes the crusher! He also tells you to leave the car behind in the parking outside (there is no parking space in the cop house). You protest you can’t do that, as you need your car and all it needs is for the dents and the bumper to be fixed. He looks at you as some one would at an ignoramus and asks, “ But how will the RTO vehicle inspector inspect the damage to your car? ”. You say sounding hopefull, “ I will bring the vehicle when he is coming here by fixing an appointment”. He gives you a pitying look and says, “ There is no specified time for his visit. In any case, once you have given a written complaint the vehicle cant be driven”. You look helplessly at the row of bikes and cars, parked there out in the street. They seem totally beyond repair and seem to have come to their final resting place. You are losing all hopes of making any claim by the minute. You are not about to leave a perfectly good car to the tender mercies of that roadside parking and leave it unguarded on open season basis. You gather courage and ask the policeman, “ How long does this process take”. He gives you an encouraging smile and says, “not very long from one month three months. The RTO inspector will send the report to the court with his recommendation for the necessary repairs. After that the court will pass the order for the insurance company to pay. Then you can take the car to the garage they specify and get it repaired to the extent they have recommended. Anything over and above this will be to your account. This is apart from the excess waiver of Rs 500 that you have to pay anyway”.  Then in a knowing aside says, “He can be made to come sooner”. The meaning of this would be obvious to any man of the world!

Then very helpfully he suggests that I should get it repaired by myself and claim it from my own insurance company. I thought this was the best advice I could get and did as the wise policeman had suggested. In all fairness I must say I contacted the owner of the car that caused the damage and the gentleman that he was, he paid 50% of the cost of the repairs. But how does one choose a gentleman to have and accident with every time?!

Now I wonder, how many minor third party claims the insurance companies settle or rather not settle. They must make a killing from all the unclaimed minor third party damages from people who give up in sheer frustration. Even when one files a claim to his own insurance firm in a case like the one narrated above, they still make money by cutting off the no claim bonus from the next premium. So its head they win and tails you lose!

Elsewhere abroad where, in the event of an accident the police come to the spot and inspect the scene and adjudicate on the spot. They give their approval to have the vehicle repaired and clearly mention whose fault caused the accident. It is mandatory for that person’s insurance company to pay for the repairs of the vehicle unconditionally. As a matter of fact the better workshops will not accept any vehicle for repair of damages caused by an obvious accident without a police clearance certificate, as there could be third party damages unknown to them. Where justice is fair and swift and one is not harassed in such incidents.

Moral of the Story:

DO NOT HAVE AN ACCIDENT. EVEN A THIRD PARTY ONE!!!

Never on a Sunday

To some of you the caption will bring to memory the Song bearing the same title, Never on a Sunday rendered by the dulcet voice of Connie Francis inviting you to good times except on the Christian day of Sabbath, when she prefers to take rest and probably sleep late!

I too like my Sundays. Time away from School, college and later work. However to tell the truth I liked Saturdays better, as they always lead to Sundays. The pleasure of anticipating the day of rest has always felt better for me than the actual day of rest, which usually melts away like ice cubes left near the oven! Sundays always promise a lot and many times fail to deliver. Even if you have had a great time on a Sunday, it always leads to Mondays and back to the mill. What a wet blanket end to a day of glorious enjoyment or laid back well earned rest!

Having lived in the Arabic countries of Oman and the United Arab Emirates for twenty odd years, my Sundays happened to be Fridays, which is the weekly off day in those parts.

We plan outings with the family on Sundays (Fridays as they turned out for a long time in my life). The kids want to go out to the beach or an amusement park or whatever other attractions are available in and around where you live. So instead of sleeping late and having leisurely breakfast, which can go on to a session of some beers before lunch and so on, you get up as usual – the kids up and ready, rearing to go and ensure you are up and ready too. You decide to leave early to make sure you reach the amusement park well ahead of the others. Smart move! Once you hit the road, too late you discover there are other equally smart fellows around; many are even smarter seeing as how there is long line of cars ahead of you. The traffic has built up to the healthy usual level and you are driving and cursing in your accustomed style as on a weekday. You finally struggle for a little over an hour and reach your destination. The family gets down from the car and enthusiastically run towards all the fun activities. You continue to curse and wedge your little car between two expensive mammoth SUVs. The next step in enjoying your Sunday is standing in the long queue to buy the entry tickets. When you reach the counter issuing tickets, the never fail  “Murphy’s law” kicks in. The computer issuing tickets hangs and there is hold up with others behind you craning their necks to see what the hold up is. Eventually you have the precious entry tickets and go in. The kids have a whale of a time. You begin to think, its all been worth it. 

After exhausting themselves, everyone is ready to go home. The drive back home is no better and with the day’s exertions adding to the to the irritation of the drive home. Finally you reach and park the car. After a cooling shower you sit with a drink and watch TV for a while. The wife is faring no better is getting dinner ready. Everyone finishes dinner and you hit the sack. Inevitably the mind wanders to the tasks at hand at work the next day. Daunting thoughts scramble past. That is when you make a solemn resolution never on a Sunday. NEVER AGAIN on a Sunday.....

After all you do have six whole days to lose your resolve!!

Driving pleasures and Perils

Normally I like driving.  The sense of power and control that I get when driving a car – a car kept in good repair especially – gives me a high. But to my dismay this liking is quickly disappearing. If it were put to vote amongst those who drive in this fair city, the Nays (to driving in most Indian metros) would have it with no challenge at all. Driving in Bangalore is no exception. When I leave the parking from my apartment complex, all I need to do is to drive 25 metres, whence begins an obstacle course fit to test the skills of the driver and the suspension and shock absorbers of the vehicle.

                       First the speed breakers! These humps come in a variety of shapes and sizes and a large number of them are not painted and are quite invisible. The transport department officials put the daily figure of vehicle registration between 600 and 700! With the road infrastructure hardly being able to keep pace with this kind of proliferation, it does not require the genius of any traffic expert to predict large daily doses of road congestion. The average speed in the city is around 12 to 15 Km per hour. Anyway the innumerable potholes and the heavy traffic congestion make the humps superfluous. But the powers that raise these humps cannot bear to see a long stretch of  good road and will make sure your ride is bumpy with a series of these wretched humps. So if the potholes don’t get you, the humps will!

                         Then there are the black and yellow bumblebees and the recent addition of the green hornets. The Autorickshas ! The worthies who drive autorickshas have a thumb rule. If the gap in the traffic can accommodate the front wheel of the auto, the rest is an automatic fit!  They whine and snarl through the traffic, unmindful of any traffic – jockeying for space competing irrespective of the size and speed of the other vehicles on the road. And like the indestructible cockroach, which has outlived the Jurassic giants, they will outlive Armageddon and will continue to harass the city’s traffic.

                           The city roads are getting better and most main roads have become dual carriageways. But do we deserve them? It’s a most common sight to see on coming traffic – from  bicycles to heavy trucks and buses – on the wrong side of the dual carriage way. Obviously it is considered unnecessary to travel a few hundred metres in the upstream direction of your destination to make a U turn. It’s much easier to drive along the side of the road and make a dash across the road in the first break one finds on the road. Of course the unwary driver who is peacefully driving on  the legitimate side of the road has to be alert all the time to these road demons. One-way streets and no entry signs fare no better and get the same treatment. Many Bangalore drivers show great attitude in getting ahead. Their enthusiasm is especially in evidence while halted at a traffic signal. Many show no respect for the colour red and just keep going with out a break. If you are a driver who is not colour blind and respect the red light and stop at a traffic signal, you are almost certain to hear impatient honking from behind, hassling you and urging you to get a move on.

                            It is not unusual to see a bovine placidly chewing on its hastily consumed meal while leisurely resting right in the middle of a busy road. The traffic swerves and swings around it and no one thinks of chasing the creature to the side of the road.  No, it’s no pleasure driving in this city.

                           A word of appreciation is in order for the public transport motorbus drivers. I am sure driving is no pleasure for them either and driving up and down the same route multiple times day after day!We can certainly improve their lot by riding the bus, rather than taking out private cars and adding to the congestion on the roads. Riding the city bus will be easy on our nerves and easier for the driver of the bus too with lesser crowds on the roads.

Anyway friends, for those unfortunates who are condemned to drive around for professional requirements or pleasure (?) – there is no such animal whilst driving on Bangalore roads, or for that matter on most Indian metro roads, please take care and stay ahead of trouble, which will be constantly looking out for the unwary and take –it- easy   types. Good luck on the road. Drive safely.

Early Memories

The earliest memories of my childhood are from the time of my first school days. I started my school in “ The baby “ class of year 1954 or 55 – I don’t remember exactly – in a place called “ Bala Brindavan “. We were living in Ghandhi Nagar in Chennai – Madras in those days, in a small house in second Canal cross road. The school was about half a kilometre from home and I remember walking to school. I remember too, crying when my mother – Amma- left me in school and went away leaving me with a white haired “patti” who later became Saraswathi teacher to me. Amma gave me packed lunch in a tiffin box, which swung down from a curved handle. Just under the lid was a small holder to hold the “kari” for the well mashed “rasam sadam” . After lunch the teacher made us all lie down for a snooze on a “pai” – a mat woven with reeds and a little pillow with an animal motif on the pillow cover.

The next stage of school was my entry in the” first class” or first grade which was in Rani Meyammai high School.. This was a further 300 or so metres from the earlier school. First class is something I don’t remember too much of except for two incidents, the first of which I would rather forget. Unfortunately the school’s toilet was terrible and was just a three-sided wall behind which one went to relieve himself. The question of running water or even stored water was not even heard of or even perhaps thought of. Close to the toilet – the three-sided wall – was a pond of sorts, which held dirty muddy water from the city’s quota of yearly rains. Those unlucky enough to feel the peristalsis of their large intestine and succumb to the result of it, had run behind wall to squat and grunt and after heaving the final sigh of relief, come from behind the wall and walk about 30 feet to the pond with their pants half down in search of water – even if dirty water to clean themselves. I was struck by this bolt of bad luck lightning one day and had to rush behind the wall. After the routine of the proceedings described above, I too had to make the long journey to the pond’s edge in search of water. My bad luck must have been seriously compounded on that day, and I slipped and fell in the pond! It was just a shallow hole, although I managed to come out safely I was completely drenched, and sobbing with a very hurt ego and shame. Of course I ran straight home and did not go back to school for a few days.

The second incident I remember decisively ended any aspirations that school and my teachers might have had about making a scholar out of me. One evening, whilst walking home after school, I heard people scampering behind me shouting “maadu”. I was suddenly violently pushed by some thing big and heavy from behind and fell to the ground. I was yelling and crying and was getting rolled around and butted about. From a bloodied face I saw that large cow had broken loose from it minder and was trampling me. The earlier bad luck wind that had given me dunking in the dirty pond was now blowing the other way and providentially a policeman who was nearby chased the cow away with his “latti” and picked me from the ground. By this time a crowd had gathered and my sister who was also walking back home from the same school hurried the policeman to our house, which was just less than a hundred metres away. My mother saw me rushed me across the road to the family doctor, Dr.Sundar Rao. He checked me up and painted me purple with liberal dabs of gentian violet and stuck a needle into my bottom for good measure. I was howling with pain by now and my mother just carried me and took me to the auto rickshaw stand. I remember having made a choice to ride in a black auto rickshaw out of a choice of yellow and black vehicles, which were lined up in the ranks. We arrived at my grandparents’ in the headquarters of Theosophical Society in Adayar a vast estate of about 300 plus acres of wooded verdant green with old big stately houses, which stood, scattered alongside more humble abodes. This accident actually turned out to a sort of blessing, for from that day on till the completion of my pre-university studies I had the good fortune to spend and grow up in that vast and spacious estate – a great luxury if your life is condemned to growing up and living in a crowded metropolis like Madras. (In mitigation I must say that Madras in the days of my school and college days was much less crowded and congested).

In the following days, I was taken to the Beasant Theosophical High School, which was located in the Beasant gardens a slightly smaller estate belonging to the TS immediately neighbouring the main estate. The Beasant School is the school, where my uncles, aunts, brother, sisters and cousins of varying closeness had studied. I was admitted to the second class and my teacher was Vichu teacher. Thereafter I continued to live in the TS with my thatha, patti and Sundari athai my father’s youngest sister, who was the secretary at Kalakshetra, the classical fine arts school and academy founded by Rukmini “athai” Arundale.

School from then on was great fun. We had a great set of teachers lead by Mr.Krishnaratnam, our head master. In the centre of Madras city, one was very lucky indeed to go to a school that was set inside a very large acreage of nearly 150 acres of fruit trees and garden. We had even in those days many students from abroad (Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Hong Kong ) and lots of students from Tibet – who had fled from their country with the Holy Dalai Lama, in the wake the Chinese occupation of their land. We had students who were from the famous Tamil film world personalities, including Mr.Mani Ratnam, the well known Tamil film director / producer. Our school uniform was very Indian. We wore white kurta top and white pyjamas or white dhotis. The girls wore full-length skirts, blouse and half sari’s or salwar and khamis combos. We had the all normal school activities and the extra curricular ones like symposium or public speaking classes and games, physical training classes, inter-house matches and cricket, hockey, foot-ball and other games. All BTHS students will vouch that they had s fantastic time in school.

As the school was located right in the middle of a large grove of Mango and tamarind trees, there was a constant attack on the trees with hand launched missiles in the form of stones to bring down the mangos or the tangy tamarind fruit. It was a common site to see a teacher marching a boy or a girl to the headmaster’s room with her nose or head bleeding from a stone hitting them on its re-entry to land after successfully hitting or missing its target of a mango or tamarind fruit bunch, with the boy (it was usually only boys) who launched the missile. He was normally let off after a stern warning of the ultimate punishment of a “T.C” (transfer certificate or expulsion from the school).

The classrooms were individual huts made of a 3 foot wall and structure of bamboo latticed wall with a thatched roof of dried coconut fronds. The room were airy and bright and we sat on the floor cross-legged and had short wooden stools in front of us to as a writing desk. The best classes were (periods as they were called) of Natural Science (biology studies) taught by headmaster whose lectured were very interesting and all of us loved it. The worst without doubt was Social studies (history and geography lessons) where the teacher did not teach much, but made us write down her pre-prepared lecture notes dictated by her in a monotone. We all loved our English teacher, whose diction and teaching has been mainly responsible our learning this foreign language and becoming more than reasonably proficient in it.

School, picnics, excursions and field trips were thoroughly enjoyable as were notions of girlfriends and puppy love in this wonderful school.

We passed out from school, went our ways like the rays of the sun some of reaching the far corners of the globe. Most of us have done well, some very well (at least all those whom I have had a chance to meet again or learn about). There are amongst us who have reached giddying heights to those whose achievements have been less spectacular. But whatever their station in life, I am sure they all will enthusiastically share the refrain, “ The boys and girls of Beasant Theosophical High School “ are the like the seeds of the mighty Banyan tree, and take with them great values wherever they go and spread it like the cool shade of the great tree.