Chennai jottings...2

The Chennai flower vendor is a usual sight on all street corners in residential areas and more near temples. The vendor is usually an obese/cachectic lady clad in a dirty cotton saree and is especially known for her superior haggling skills. She is helped in her job by her dutiful husband who has to go down on his knees to extract a few bucks out of her to help himself to a 'cutting'* of rum or buy a few beedis.

Come rain or sunshine they can be seen stringing flowers together at their regular spots with an upturned cardboard box that serves as a counter for vending their flowers and one buys a 'muzham' of malli poo/jaadhi/mullai etc over the counter!

A 'muzham' is a measurement of length that is unique to the flower business. It supposedly spans the length from the tip of the right index finger to the cubital fossa (the crease where the arm meets the forearm) of the vendor. Since this varies from person to person and between the sexes, it is usually the femme who measures out the 'muzham' and she sees to it that she bends her palm at the wrist so as to decrease the already miniscule length.

A 'muzham' of malli poo (jasmine) costs anywhere between 3 rupees in the summer to 10 during the rainy season. Ask them why is it costs so much and the ever ready rebuttal would be one of the following:
a) the flowers arent in season no
b) it is raining
c) it is too hot and the flowers get damaged while transportation
d) it is the marriage 'season'
e) it is the festival season

So my dear pals due to the above reasons the quintessential flowers cost a fortune perennially. A usual sight would be thus:

Customeress: "How much do I get for 10 rupees?"

Vendoress(?) nonchalantly: "One and a half muzham"

Customeress as if she has just heard the news that a tsunami has formed in the Indian Ocean and is heading straight towards her house: "What?"

Vendoress: "Yes Ma'am, since it is the festive season, the flowers are in high demand, the going rate at the Koyambedu market is 123456 bucks a kilo."

Customeress: "You people have some lame excuse or the other throughout the year!"

Vendoress: "What to do ma'am, we can give it at subsidised rates only if we can afford it, otherwise we run the risk of a loss. Don't forget ma that I too have three kids to feed"

Customeress: "Ok ok enough of your sad story, give me 2 'muzhams' for 10 bucks.

Vendoress: "No ma, definitely it isnt possible, the rates for the flowers are too high today" (so saying, she measures out the strung flowers on her skinny, short hand)

Customeress: "No, no nothing doing, you haven't taken the right measurement, you have bent your wrist, the flowers are too little, that surely isnt 1 and half muzham"

Vendoress: "No ma, why would I ever cheat, I swear on God that it is the right measurement, see for yourself" (and she runs through the measurement the same as before but a wee bit quicker this time)

Customeress: "For my hand that would be hardly 3/4th of a muzham. Cheri, what else option do I have rather than buying this from you!"

Vendoress: "Inikki adjust pannikko ma, naalaikku rate kammiyaayidum unakku niraya poo tharen." (Kindly adjust today ma'am, tomorrow when the rates go down I shall give you more)

But then...the same thing happens 365 days a year.

There is something to the jasmine flowers that even the ordinary looking Tam girl seems to have a fresh radiance about her once she dons the white flowers on her neatly braided hair. A classical look, a 'homely' look, that right look most Tam males want when they want to take a femme home and tell their Moms: "Ma, this is Nandhini and she is my friend...of late we are contemplating marriage!"



*Cutting: A cutting of any alcoholic drink is 90ml. A 'quarter' pronounced locally as 'kotter' is 180ml, so a cut in 180 is 90. FYI a 'half' is 360 and a 'full' is 720ml.

PS: Actually I wanted to take a pic of the vendoress, but then her possessive husband didnt allow me to and instead wanted his pic taken. Dang! Double dang! ;))))))

Chennai jottings...

I was sitting at my favourite Chennai Nair Tea Shop when I heard the zaniest conversation in recent times! A man walks in with a bizarre looking hearing aid stuck to his ear with a wire leading to his shirt pocket. On closer scrutiny it is a handsfree set for his mobile. He is speaking into into/to the contraption like there is no tomorrow and motions the 'tea master' to make him a sugarless tea, sits down on a plastic stool and picks up a 'bhaji' that has been made in the Paleontozoic era and kept out in the open to feed the houseflies and also as a receptacle for the dirt, grime and dust produced by the cacophonous Metropolitan Transport Corporation buses plying on roads that have craters similar to the moon.

Man with bizarre handsfree set (MWBHS): "Sir, I forced the girl to come on Tuesday, but she says she has got her exams"

God only knows what the duffer on the other side is telling him...

MWBHS: "No sir, I tried my best to get her over, but she is adamant saying that she has flunked her earlier exams and definitely cannot come this time"

God only knows what the duffer on the other side is telling him...

MWBHS: "Yes sir, she cant afford to do things according to her own luxury, that too after having asked us to go ahead with all the arrangements. Wouldn't we take care of her rain or sunshine, but somehow she seems to have missed the point"

God only knows what the duffer on the other side is telling him...

(Meanwhile, my thought takes a fancy flight and is freewheeling! Jeez these people are doing it in the open now eh? Goddamn, no wonder Chennai is seeing Japanese words like Tsunami in the Tamil papers)

MWBHS: "Sir, I told her father but he says it is none of his business and his daughter is an independent lady and can think for herself. I think I need to talk to her mother about this. How can she do like this, she should have informed us earlier. We have made all the arrangements and now she is backing out at the last minute. Dont worry Sir, I will somehow get her on Tuesday."

(Awww efff, even the parents are cahoots!!! Thirupathi Ezhumalayaaney!!)

God only knows what the duffer on the other side is telling him...

MWBHS: "I have arranged fantastic accomodation too and during this time it is very difficult to get a VIP suite. I have really slogged for it, Sir"

(If only I knew the name of the Hotel and the room number!)

MWBHS: "She badly wanted to go to Thirupathi for the past few years and now when the opportunity is there she cant go it seems. Ok then, what to do, the Lord wants her to come only later, I guess. Sorry for troubling you Sir."

Bloody idiot. He gave me a scare that bugger with the bizarre handsfree set! So Chennai is still safe and innocent?

Herbal supplements and surgery

Before you have surgery, tell your doctor about any herbal supplements you're taking. Some common herbal supplements can interfere with the success of your surgery.

You might not think to tell your doctor about the herbal supplements you're taking, such as the echinacea you take to fight off colds or the feverfew you use to prevent your migraines. But what you may not realize is that these and other herbal supplements can affect the success of a surgical procedure, just as conventional medicines can. Tell your doctor about any herbal supplements you're taking well before you have surgery. You may need to stop taking some herbal supplements up to three weeks before surgery to make sure they leave your system completely.

Here's a look at some common herbal supplements and how they can interfere with surgery. Keep in mind that other herbal supplements also may affect your surgery, so be sure to also tell your doctor if you're taking any herbs that aren't on this list.

Danshen
May cause bleeding

Dong quai
May cause bleeding

Echinacea
May interfere with immune functioning, may alter effectiveness of immuno-suppressant drugs given after transplant surgery
Ephedra
May cause abnormal heartbeat, may cause extreme high blood pressure and coma if combined with certain antidepressants and anesthesia

Feverfew
May cause bleeding

Garlic
May cause bleeding, may interfere with normal blood clotting

Ginger
May cause bleeding

Ginkgo
May cause bleeding

Ginseng
May cause bleeding, may cause rapid heartbeat, may cause high blood pressure

Goldenseal
May cause or worsen high blood pressure

Kava
May enhance sedative effects of anesthesia

Licorice (not including licorice candy)
May increase blood pressure

Senna
May cause electrolyte imbalance

St. John's wort
May increase or decrease the effects of some drugs used during and after surgery

Valerian
May interfere with the effects of anesthesia

Source:
Mayoclinic, which sends emails if you subscribe to them: housecall@mayoclinic.com

All because I went for a hair cut!

The Chennai barber has metamorphosed so much that I can hardly recognise him. Gone were the days when there was a rickety old chair in the middle of the salon which had half a door closed with an old fan rotating lazily/screechily above and the barber just went clippety clip for a full 45 minutes. By the time he finished I had a nap and also managed rosy dreams of fair, lipsticked actresses whose semi nude pictures adorned the dirty walls of the barber shop. After 45 mins I gave a 5 rupee professional charge and walked out happily light headed, the weight above my head reduced by almost a kilo!

Nowadays the barber's sports a trendy and cool look replete with a lot of paraphernalia and even a fish tank. I swear I dont understand what is the fad with aquariums in Chennai that soon the cobbler on the road might be seen having one. Everyone seems to be in a hurry to have their hair cropped or their stubbles worked on that they barge into the place and demand a quick haircut or a shave with a result a long queue of people sit (can one 'sit' in a queue?) impatiently waiting for their turn. I always have this feeling that on the days I go to the barber's the whole town seems to be there.The ever compliant barber gets to work in a jiffy and one can see that he is in a hurry to finish his job rather than caress the lock of hair sending the client into a peaceful trance.

The modern day barber shop is a busy one as opposed to the days of yore when one frequented the barbers just to have a look at the vernacular papers and ogle at the sexy, slim actresses pinned on the walls. It was a place where politics, cinema, and education were discussed at great lengths. The barber kept yakking while the customer went into a hypnotic state. After cutting the hair, the barber donned the role of a masseur : He massaged the head and back. He even assumed the role of a chiropractor or a podiatrist. In fact the first surgeons were barbers. We had a barber in our men's hostel at Stanley Medical College and we cynically called him the 'Stanley Surgeon'.

I just returned from the barber and I should say the experience wasnt too memorable. I closed my eyes and old memories surfaced in my tired mind and I sat oblivious of the barber using a harsh comb and a rough pair of scissors. The days when Devan, my childhood barber came home to cut my unkempt hair on a sunny Saturday afternoon slowly took shape in my mind's eye like a well projected PowerPoint presentation.

Devan was a short and bald man in his fifties with a thin line of hair for a moushtache at the edge of his upper lip. I always wondered who cut his hair or did he do an auto-cut? He did have a salon in the main road at Yercaud, Salem Dt, but visited my house on my father's insistance. We (my brother and I) as kids were very scared of the going to the salon and my Dad thought it was a better idea to ask the barber to come over. Usually it was a Saturday because we had only half a day of school on that day and on Sundays the barber was too busy in his shop that he couldnt make a house-visit.

He came at around 2 pm carrying a black box with all his instruments inside. As soon as I spotted him coming (I usually sat perched on the compound wall near the gate), I would yell: "Appa, barber vandhaachu" (the barber has come). Immediately I would be admonished by Dad: "How many times have I told you to say 'Devan uncle has come? You never listen, useless fellow!" Dad did not like us addressing him as 'barber'. But I always wondered secretly: "How else would anyone call a barber? Dont we call a teacher as teacher and not as Hendricks aunty?" I dont fathom why my father did not want us to address him as 'barber'. Perhaps he thought it was an insult? No work is inferior, isnt it?

Sometimes when the barber came we were so engrossed in our play that it would require our parents to yell at us to go and sit in the chair which had a plank of wood across the arm rests (so that we were at the right height for 'Devan uncle') and get going with the hair cut. One day we didnt turn up even after a few yells from my Dad that he got so angry and even pulled a toy car that I was playing with very harshly and threw it with such force onto the floor that it got smashed to smithereens. I got hurt so badly and I never forgave my father for that.

Ok, I digress. Devan was a very strict man and he wouldnt tolerate any of my pranks. The hardest part of the hair cut was bending my head forward while he cut the hair behind my head. It seemed like a few eons and even if I moved my head a little he shoved it back ruthlessly into position threatening me that he would cut my ears! Devan had an irritating habit of burping and I could almost smell his gastric contents while he burped right behind my ears! Sometimes I thought he would ralph on me. Eeeks.

After I had my barnet cut (usually my bro and I had a fight as to who will get the first haircut and it was me who won) I would lounge around while my brother was having his, irritating him all the while knowing fully that he couldnt do anything to me then (he had the habit of throwing whatever he could find on me).

When Devan finished, my Dad gave him 10 rupees, he received it gratefully and left only to return a month later to burp in my ear.

This evening I missed Devan and even wondered if he was alive. May God bless him wherever he is.