Copasetic Asian Games

Once every few hours I follow India's fortunes in the Guangzhou Asian Games on the Games Information System page. When I visited to check Sania's fate in her tennis semifinal match, I read this news item on the site.

"Chen Shaokang, Deputy Secretary General of Guangzhou Municipal Government, Deputy Chief of the Asian Games Town Leading Group reported that everything is copasetic and running smoothly".

Copasetic? I didn't know what it meant. M-W says it means 'very satisfactory'. The main spelling is given as 'copacetic'.

Apparently the word was first used in 1919. This must be the second use.

I remember that somebody called the CWG Village 'filthy'. He could have so easily said 'sopathetic'.

Balu Raghuraman

Balu Raghuraman was my classmate at The Home School, Basavanagudi, Bangalore, from lower nursery till we completed sixth standard. Somewhere during those years, he accompanied me in what I believe was my first stage appearance as a Carnatic music vocalist. I don't remember what I sang. But I do know from a photograph someone took that day, that Balu was still dressed in a printed 'lungi' he had been made to wear for the qawwali programme that immediately preceded our item. I must locate and post that photograph on this blog.

In 1986-87 I left Home School to do my seventh standard in Mysore. Unable to bear my separation from Balu, I came back the very next year to renew my association with him at Kumaran's for three more years till we passed out of tenth standard in 1990. In this period, I remember we represented the school at a children's festival at Adi Chunchunagiri. I remember the other children booed and whistled for the full six minutes we were on stage. I don't know why. Maybe even they didn't.

Anyway, Balu worked very hard and showed tremendous grit and enterprise to develop his talent with the violin. Eventually he moved to London to teach the violin at the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan. We hear that late in the evenings Londoners hear the notes of bindumalini wafting across the Thames.

My wife Mangala interviewed Balu when he was visiting a few months ago. I helped her put it down on paper. Here it is. Please read the quote which the editors chose to call out in the context of the rest of the write-up.  


    

Autorism - 1

Look! Daggers!

As you all know, I undertook an empirical survey of auto-rickshaws to understand the import of visual art they so proudly display as they sputter around. Here are the raw findings you're no doubt waiting for.

Sample: 500 autos
Observed visual art:
300: Dagger dripping blood
150: Serrated dagger dripping blood
20: Bollywood stars (recognizable as male or female; identity otherwise artfully concealed)
15: Bollywood stars (gender neutral)
 5: Sanjay Dutt
10: Taayi and/or tande aashirvada (Blessings of mother and/or father)

Mercury Rising

It's been scorchingly hot the last few days in Bangalore. Two random thoughts came to my mind in this context.

What does the expression, 'the dog days of summer' mean? I had read it sometime back in some book. I don't remember it now.

Secondly, there is a Kannadiga saying that after 'Shivaratri', the chill goes away chattering 'Shiva! Shiva!' And true to that saying, there is a sudden, marked shift in the season after Shivaratri. It seems that whatever little winter was there in these parts vanished overnight just as Shivaratri ended. It certainly has been that way this time. The large number of trees cut down in the last couple of years due to the Metro work hasn't exactly helped. From noon till sunset, the glare is so intense it sometimes hurts my eyes.

I'll try and console myself by looking up 'dog days of summer' and some more funda about that Kannada saying.

The Remains Of The Day

Considering that she's not a regular movie goer, and does not exactly follow shows and showtimes, my wife Mangala does rather well when it comes to picking up a DVD from the local video library or the British Library (which seems to have a better collection of movies than books these days).

Her latest selection from Brit Lib was 'The Remains of the Day'. It is a Merchant - Ivory film based on the novel of the same name by Kazuo Ishiguro. Ruth Prawer Jhabvala has written the screenplay. The film stars Anthony Hopkins and Emma Thompson. Besides Christopher Reeve, there is a young Hugh Grant in a supporting role. Both Sir Anthony and Emma Thompson are superb. There is a subdued tautness all through the movie, maintained perhaps by an excellent background score as much as by the performances of the actors.

The home entertainment DVD comes with a couple of very interesting documentaries about the making of the movie.

The film received 8 Oscar nominations including Best Picture (which it lost to 'Schindler's List'), Best Actor (Tom Hanks won it for 'Philadelphia'), Best Actress (Holly Hunter got it for 'The Piano'). It didn't win any. 1993 at the Oscars belonged to 'Schindler's List' which grabbed 7 Oscars though none for acting.

Snip, snip, snip

A couple of months ago I instructed my barber to cut my hair short. At first he was reluctant to begin his assignment but when I genially urged him to go on, he snipped away with an energy not seen by a member of that profession in recent times. When he finished and held a mirror to the back of my head, I understood the reasons for his initial hesitation. The morning sun shone off my pate with a blinding light except when a few passing clouds reduced the glare for a few seconds. I double checked if the light source was my nimbus tilted away from its axis but then no. It was indeed Sol Invictus. The barber bowed deeply and accepted his charges. As I walked out to the astonished stares of the adoring public, I was reminded of a few eventful haircuts I had seen and been given as a kid.

I went to 'Home School' in Basavanagudi. The principal was a Ms. Madappa, an Anglo-Indian lady who ruled us all with an iron hand and Queen's English. Every month, boys with an unruly crop ready for harvest would be identified and a letter sent off to their parents. The parents would be given a few days time to have their ward's hair cut. If not, the school would have it done at their cost.

In one of the shops around Tagore Circle stood 'Decent Haircutting Saloon'. I'm not sure if that venerable institution stands there even now. I'll check one of these days. Anyway, like most barber shops, Decent would close every Tuesday. On the Tuesday following the drop dead date for compliance, a Decent barber would be seen lurking about in the morning just before assembly. After assembly, les miserables would be sheared in plain view of whoever was passing by. The next month's fee intimation would carry an extra charge of Rs.5/- towards haircutting expenses.

The more hopeful among my schoolmates would try a few tricks to postpone this ignominy. I remember one of them had tried the expedient of shaving off his sideburns while leaving intact a thick, uncombed mop on his head. He seemed pretty confident of getting away with it. But somehow he was discovered and put under the scissors.

As Ms. Madappa may have said, A snip in time saves five.