Cartoons of yore: we want them back!

One morning I was scanning the newspaper casually when my eyes fell on a Garfield comic strip. I found it very amusing indeed. I experienced a sudden nostalgia about the cartoons of yester year. Back then cartoons belonged to the time when “Cartoon Network” was the King of children’s television in India. I remember growing up eating straight from the palm of great cartoon shows like Looney Toons. We missed growing up on Sesame Street, the Muppets and Barney and friends, unlike most American kids because Kermit channel was soon removed from viewership. Every phase of my growing up years had a cartoon to suit it up until the age of puberty. Ask any boy in college if he misses watching the Swat cats or Johnny Quest and he’ll reply in the affirmative.

Gone are the days when the Flintstones could take a kid back to the prehistoric times or The Jetsons transport him to somewhere in the future. What happened to the weirdest family in cartoon history? The Adam’s family could make your hair stand on end. Nobody remembers Top cat-the swaggering alley cat that always wore a purple hat? What about Josie and the Pussy cats and how much little girls loved to groove to their tunes? Probably the title for longest surviving cat cartoon would undoubtedly go to Tom and Jerry (by MGM) the present corrupted version of Tom and Jerry tales is not even close to the original nor is the other version shown on Indian Television named "Chuha Billi Police chor". When was it the first time any of us had an insight into a sailor’s life? It had to be after watching Popeye the sailor man. 

I could mention some more cartoons that need to be raised from the dead. We live in a world that is constantly facing environmental threats today. Now a cartoon like Captain Planet could really impact young minds to want to save the planet! 

The road runner show brought countless laughter to everyone in the family. There are so many of us who miss Acme products. The days when we used to come across Powerpuff girl merchandise in the markets seem so long ago because all we can find anywhere now is Ben10 pouches and lunch boxes. Suddenly there seems to have been an indigenization of Cartoon network. After they changed their logo everything changed. There was an invasion of cartoons like Tenali Raman, Chota Birbal, Vikram aur Betaal and the like. Parents felt this move was good so that children could now learn about Indian mythology and culture. But some of the episodes seemed as if they were mocking it. Another factor that led to the decline of Cartoon network in India was the introduction of several Japanese and Chinese cartoons. Lots of other cartoon channels today show Ninja Hattori, Kemon achi, Doremon etc. One finds these shows on Nickelodeon instead of old time favorites like, “As told by Ginger”, “Hey Arnold”, “Wild Thorn berries” or “The Rugrats” anymore and this is disappointing. Even shows like “Keenan and Kel”, “Drake and Josh” and “the Amanda Show” came to an abrupt standstill, much to the dismay of poor fans.

How many of us haven’t forgotten what Pogo once used to be? When it first came into being we had shows like “Round the twist” and this really cool science program. You don’t need me to illustrate what’s become of pogo now do you, what with the advent of Takeshi’s castle (laughs.)

Disney channel has also succumbed to this unnecessary change. It is no longer what it used to be when it first came to India. No more craziness of suite life of Zack and Cody, no more exhibition of Raven’s super confident self in That’s so Raven and no more Phil of the Future or Lizzie McGuire which used to rule the channel at one point. Then there was the double life living Hannah Montana that had several episodes with endless repetition. This was later joined by Wizards of Waverly place and suite life on deck which wasn’t much of a hit. Everything has vanished in mid Disney air now. All we see when we turn it on is lots and lots of Phineas and Ferb and believe me we are sure to get bored of that too.

The question is why did all this happen? Someone should worry about what the kids of this generation get to watch. It’s not fair that some of us got to watch great cartoon while the others sufficed with below average ones. Besides we learnt a lot from watching television that may come in handy at any time anywhere. I believe that people have thus far underestimated the importance of good children’s T.V. nobody knows what happened and nobody has bothered to find out! All we want are quality cartoons that will make kid’s imaginations go beyond this world that can show them the true potential and power of imagination. Even if we have to resurrect them from the past two decades!

A day in the life of a construction worker

I woke up one morning and on looking outside my window witnessed an interesting scene. The empty site next door that had been full of weeds and unwanted grasses was now cleared completely. In the center of the clearing was a brick structure with one tiny window. Since it was early, I assumed this must have happened over night. Just when I was wondering if there were inhabitants within, I saw from behind the brick house black smoke rising. I noticed there what seemed like three bricks set close together in the middle of which lay a heap of burning firewood. Atop this simple stove was placed a brass pot that looked so old and used it reminded me of a piece in an antique shop. The pot contained some lentils that were being cooked to perfection by none other than the woman of the hut. She looked like she was in her late 20’s. There she sat squatted on the ground, in front of the little furnace in what might have been a comfortable position. I was busy noticing all this when, I heard the sound of teeth brushing, the source of which was the woman’s husband. Next the man was to wash up. The bathroom consisted of half of a metal shed behind which he hid and bathed hastily with a little less than 1 small bucket of water. It made me wonder how many buckets I’d use for my own bathing purposes. Soon after this he got hold of an oxidized plate and went to the hot stove for some breakfast. In the meantime, the lady had gone into the hut for a while. When she next came out she was carrying in her arms a little infant girl, followed by a toddler and an elder boy around 7. They began to play in the heap of sand which lay in one corner of the clearing that was also acting as a resting zone for a couple of stray dogs. This made me realize the joy children get from small things.

In a few seconds I could hear the sound of a cement mixing machine coming round the corner past my house to where the empty site was. Only then did I understand that these people were construction workers who had come from a nearby village to earn a livelihood for their family. It wasn’t an easy job at all. The man now wore his dhoti in half around his waist and some cloth to serve as protection from the harsh sun of the day ahead of him. The woman was busy attending to the needs of her smallest child inside the hut, while the two kids continued to run around noisily around the construction site. I knew that she would soon have to begin cooking the mid-day meal for the others involved in the work. But this was just one family. At the next instant a truck load of people, men and women arrived from the village to work. I noticed one old man with grey hair came past my pavement onto the site. He had so terrible a cough that I thought he must have tuberculosis. But then I saw him pop a cheap cigarette (beedi) in his mouth. This action was followed by a series of cigar puffing and coughing alternately. I pitied him. If only someone showed him the bad it was doing to him.

It was almost noon time now and the sun being high up in the sky, one would have to stand on his own shadow at this time. They had all lined up together, each carrying a sphere-like hollowed vessel on his head and walking towards a pit where they would dump the contents. This continued for another hour or so. I saw them move as their legs glistened with sweat, their dark skin appeared greasy. But they never tired and the women worked too. Helping one and other, old women and young women were passing heaps of sand in strangely shaped vessels to lay the foundation of a house-that they would neither live in nor watch other people lead their lives in. Their work was mechanical and steady. I began to wonder where they would migrate to next, what they would build, what would become of them.

But as the aroma of freshly cooked food reached their heaving nostrils, their thoughts came back to the present. So what if they would only get a bowl of porridge or some dried bread or even some more lentils? But wait, this time it was a little different, they were getting some real food for a change. Somebody generous had supplied them with a gunny bag of flour and another of rice. The women suddenly turned into kitchen goddesses. They worked together and prepared a scrumptious feast of chapattis, dal and rice. That afternoon they ate like there was no tomorrow.

granny's kitchen

Granny’s kitchen is a woman’s paradise

Stocked with bags of wheat, flour and rice

In the oven a chocolate cake bakes

That with love and honey my dear granny makes.

On the ceiling is a small fan that runs

To clear the aroma of freshly baked buns.

She has whole sets of spoons and cutlery hung

Used to make music when songs are sung

Her kitchen is half the size of our hall

But as its Goddess in it she stands tall

The fridge is always filled with goodies

Three types of cheese, chocolates and jellies

I love to go in there looking for food

That never fails to get me in a good mood

My granny’s kitchen! There’s nothing like it

You’re sure to like what you find in it

My first embarrassment

Throughout my childhood years, I took part in several competitions but the one that interested me the most was the fancy dress competition. I for one have always enjoyed a game of pretend. What better platform to dress up and impersonate the character you wish to be than a fancy dress contest?

I have previously been a mummy, a pharaoh and a butterfly. But the first time I ever participated in a fancy dress contest, I was a Maharani; it is a time I can never forget.

I was almost 5. The contest was held as part of Christmas celebrations at my play school, Green lawns. I was extremely keen on dressing up as a Maharani or Indian queen and was unwilling to settle for anything less. It is common for little girls to want to be princesses or fairies, etc. so it was normal that I chose to be this. My family helped prepare me a week in advance. My grandfather was kind enough to have made an artistic tiara for me to wear on my head. Much work went into it. My mother kept drilling into my head the lines I was expected to say on stage to introduce myself as a Maharani. My aunt worked hard on my costume which was bright pink in color with a lot of delicate embroidery. My father couldn’t wait to capture my first appearance on stage.

Finally the day of the competition arrived. My grandmother blessed me and wished me luck shaking my tiny palm. When my mother dressed me in front of the mirror, I couldn’t help but say to myself that I was going to make a great Maharani. My aunt finally placed the big Tiara on my head, (the highlight of my costume) and I gazed at my reflection, my smile as wide as could be. It was now time to leave for my preschool and my dad drove us there. I was in a trance the whole way, absorbed in thinking about how wonderful I looked in my avatar. I completely forgot about everything else. I was unaware about the whole point of a fancy dress contest back then. It was simply the fact that I got to dress up as whoever I wanted to be that appealed to me most.

I entered the venue with my family and saw my peers in different costumes. One little girl was running about in a ladybird costume and a boy had dressed as Krishna, the Hindu God. There was a cute little girl dressed as a fairy and I must admit she was my only rival. I was comparing myself with her when the time to go on stage arrived. As we formed a single file, I noticed that the fairy was just before me. My mum spoke my lines to me one last time. But I don’t remember why I just wasn’t paying attention. Within no time the fairy finished with her little act on stage and it was my turn.

I climbed up the three steps to the stage and the first thing I did was search the huge crowd that had gathered there for my family. I was immensely relieved to have spotted my mum who gave me an encouraging look. I felt no fear whatsoever. I stood there for what seemed like a full minute without saying anything. However, I still had a smile planted on my face. My class teacher who was just in front of the stage gently urged me to say something. I on the other hand, looked innocently at her and said, “Miss, WHAT TO SAY MISS?” in the mike so that everyone could hear it.

At this point, the whole crowd erupted into gales of laughter. I stood there beaming at them all, happy to have proved to be pretty entertaining. Later I met my parents and waited for the results. I was disheartened to find that I got the consolation prize while the pretty fairy secured 2^nd place. After many attempts, my family finally managed to console me.

This was my first embarrassment in my childhood years. Every time I remember this incident I can’t help but smile at the kind of girl I was back then.  

The tourist guide

Our tale takes place at an Egyptian market in Cairo, the capital city of Egypt. Market places in this country are always bustling with life and energy. Tourists from all over the world are seen exploring these markets, often accompanied by guides. The Egyptians are generous and helpful people on the whole. However, there are (as is the case in many societies) a few elements that do not quite fit into the system. Some guides, (not all) who accompany tourists, are examples of this. Since, they are not always chaps who wish to make an honest living without causing harm to any faction of society.

There was a man named “Omar” who happened to show my parents and me around the city throughout our stay in Egypt. We had known him, for a little more than 48 hours, yet his true nature seemed to reveal itself at the smallest opportunity that arose. We were unknowingly made to pay for his expenses as well as ours, he would not only eat with us but would not leave us alone at all.

Omar always wore the same pink- striped shirt and brown trouser with the same white cloth wrapped around his forehead. He was a tall, lean man with an oval shaped face who wore round spectacles. He was completely bald. One couldn’t say he had a real sense of humor. But whenever he was on the verge of being caught at his tricks he would cover up by singing the lines “Oh, my daddy…” over and over again. Which I must admit I found a little disturbing. On first impression we noted that he was money-minded and greedy.

Now, perhaps the most common way for a tourist guide to make some extra money is to demand commission for everything. Tourists that do not speak English let alone Arabic are easily taken for a ride by one such as Omar.

On the afternoon of our visit to the market place, we were met with by a cheerful and highly enthusiastic Omar, come to take us. Although we had a particular market in mind that we wished to visit, he overruled us. He claimed that he could help us get good bargains since he was well acquainted with most shop owners, at the market he was taking us to. We trusted him for he seemed pretty convincing.

All seemed well as we made our way along the crowded streets, lined with shops selling miscellaneous items on either side. These shops were owned by commoners that had whole families to support.

While we continued to explore the street and find a shop of our interest, Omar appeared and disappeared at regular intervals. One minute he would be muttering something walking beside us and the next, he’d be chatting with some other Egyptian just around the corner. It became clear to us that he did indeed; know everyone in this market place.

After a while we found a shop that really appealed to us. Omar immediately showed up from nowhere and we found him speaking angrily to the shop keeper inside. We didn’t understand the conversation since it was in Arabic. The tone indicated that it was nothing close to pleasant. After some time, the distraught shop keeper came to attend to his on looking customers. Omar pulls my father aside informing him that the shopkeeper is a cheat and insisting that we leave immediately. My father refused to believe him and it became evident that something was definitely wrong. We decided to stay on in that shop, while an upset Omar walked away from us. We did not expect what happened next. The shopkeeper’s eyes filled with tears and he had a warm smile of gratitude on his face. At once we could guess what was going on all along. Apparently, Omar had demanded a heavy commission from the shopkeeper for having brought us to his shop in particular. This was false, since we went there of our own accord. It all became clear to us when, the shopkeeper further explained that this was not the first time, that Omar brought tourists regularly always demanding a high commission from all shops on that street. By this time all neighboring shop-owners came out on the street creating a din, supporting this man in his claim about Omar’s methods.

For not having fallen prey to Omar’s ways, the shop-keeper was grateful to us and gave each of us alabaster scarab beetles as a token of gratitude. I can still vividly remember the shop-keeper holding my father’s hands in his, with tears in his eyes. On leaving his shop, we promised that we would do what we could and help resolve the situation somehow.

Before we could wonder where Omar had gone off to, we saw him emerge from a side street outside the marketplace. My father told him that we were aware of his foul ways. My mother and I displayed an attitude of indifference towards him. He, on the other hand, behaved as if nothing had happened at all. I presume that it was Omar’s last visit to that market place. As soon as we got to our hotel, my parents and I extensively discussed the matter and then decided that it was best to leave a complaint regarding Omar’s conduct as a guide with the tour operators.

For whatever goodness is in his heart, Omar will have learnt a valuable lesson from this experience and will refrain from asking commission from poor shop owners to satiate his greed for money henceforth.

I do not know what has become of Omar but I hope that he has understood the wrong in taking a part of an innocent shopkeeper’s hard-earned livelihood from him.

The vegetable vendor

This is the story of a vegetable vendor. But mind you, he wasn’t just any ordinary vegetable vendor. There was indeed something queer about him that made people think about him and laugh at the same time.

The very first time I encountered this character is when I was staying a few days in my granny’s home. It was a bright sunny afternoon, a time when one would prefer to rest for a little while after a scrumptious south Indian meal. However, my granny and I preferred to play a game of kowdei shells. We were in the middle of this exciting game when out of the blue a distinct male voice of the highest decibel was heard by us. My granny and I looked up from the game at each other with the same funny look of curiosity evident on our faces. After a few seconds we heard him again. My granny was positive it was a man selling some or other article of oddity. To me, it really sounded a savage-like noise. So much that I had to go out to the balcony and find out for myself who was responsible for the production of a sound of such great vocal complication as I’d never heard before. On looking below, I was shocked to realize it was a vegetable vendor slowly making his way across the street. Neither of us expected it to be a vegetable vendor because the word that the man had pronounced was nothing close to the Kannada word for vegetable. What’s more unbelievable is that when I heard him do it a second time, I was sure the last sound I heard was very close to a loud burp. I summoned my granny to where I was at the same time the vendor made his strange shout again. My granny found that him a bit musical even. After every shout of the word vegetable in Kannada (tharakari) which lasted about 4 counts, it would be followed by a loud burp, a sheer replica of the ones made by old Brahmin men with pot bellies at wedding luncheons.

Soon this particular vegetable vendor became a favorite topic of discussion especially when my granny had guests to entertain. My cousins and I would readily supply the narration with the actual sound effects, the burping sound always being mine to make. A few lucky guests could actually experience the phenomenon if they came at noontime, which was the vegetable vendor’s usual time.

My granny, after much speculation came to the conclusion that the vendor made a loud burp after each shout because he would spend the morning’s earnings to buy a heavy mid-day meal at the restaurant located at the beginning of her street. This latest thesis was further supported by my grandfather who claimed to have spotted the vendor eating to his hearts content at the place a couple of times. Thus the reason for his queer shouts was justified and the legend of the burping vendor lives on.

Recently when I met with my cousins, we were attempting to make our first a capella to entertain our family members, when one of my sisters came up with the wild idea of having the vegetable vendors shout continuously playing in the background! Yes, we did this and it gave all the family many a hearty laugh.

It is interesting to note that the vegetable vendor remains oblivious to this day of his growing popularity.

I do not know exactly what became of the vegetable vendor for I haven’t laid eyes on him or heard him in months now. But I shall be ever grateful to him for the kind of humor he provided us with.

Oh for the love of a star!

I’m one of those people who grew up watching Disney on Television. So don’t be surprised when I declare that I do very much believe in their theme song “when you wish upon a star…”

Disney is all about dreams coming true, fairytales and happy endings. It’s natural for all little girls who read and watch Disney to have hopes and wishes which they believe will someday be fulfilled.

Disney helped me create a habit. I couldn’t let go of this habit for a long time.

My bedroom has two windows and two beds. Although it’s a guest room, I’ve slept in it for as long as I can remember. My bed, the one I sleep on, is beside a big window. Since my room is on the top floor of the house, I have always been able to see the sky and always will unless skyscrapers start soaring around town. Almost every night I wouldn’t close my eyes without taking a final glimpse of the night sky. It was probably my way of saying a little prayer for the world. At times I’d like to photograph that picture of the night sky in my mind’s eye and take it with me until the morrow, so it would bring me good dreams. Despite the fact that it did not offer an extraordinary views (for I could only see the moon at times.) I simply couldn’t sleep without doing this.

There were never any stars, I could see however. This was unfortunate but I knew that it was due to the city’s lights that the stars remained hidden from view.

But like most children I had hope that someday I’d be able to see a real starry night sky, perhaps the Milky Way itself. That day has not come yet. But I was able to see two to three stars among which one stood out prominently. I couldn’t differentiate between planets and stars back then so I guess I took them to be one and the same.

I don’t remember the date that specific star began to appear. But it always remained in the same place each night. Thus my night time ritual was enhanced. I now not only looked at the sky but I also searched for that star in particular. It was the sole determinant of my luck and fortune the following day would bring. Whenever I saw that star, I’d be reminded of those lines from the Disney song “all your dreams will come true…”

So, I’d take my chances and make a wish as often as I could, as if I had nothing to lose. The real surprise is that, those wishes did come true, each and every little one of them.

In this way, not a night would pass without me looking at that star and whenever a wish came true, I would send flying kisses as a token of thankfulness. Thus it became my guiding star. I would sometimes make decisions even with the help of that star.

 It had been two years now that the star stayed where it was each night continually appearing for me. So much so that I thought it was indeed created for me. That star became my friend in the course of time. I grew to love it, I loved to converse with it about my day because it would simply listen- in silence.

But something’s happen so suddenly refusing to offer any explanation.

Yes, my guiding star, my guardian angel call it what you may, disappeared.

One fine night, I happily drew my curtains to catch a glimpse of the star, but alas, it was nowhere to be seen. I was so much of a positive thinker at the time that a part of me wasn’t able to believe that it might never come back.

This sudden disappearance of the star marked an important phase in my growing up years. It meant that I need no longer be wholly dependent on that star to make life’s decisions. In time I learnt to be my own guide without being influenced by a non-living ball of fire miles and miles away.

Looking back I sometimes laugh upon my naivety and how easy it was for me to believe so strongly and get swayed by my own beliefs. But all of that has gone into making me who I am today which I’m proud of. The star has thought me an important lesson of faith, one that I will always remember. It could be faith in God, faith in the universe or some kind of force that holds the world together or perhaps even faith in my own self.

Last night on entering my bedroom I noticed, the curtains were drawn and I swear I saw the very same star in the very same place like it had always been, after all these years. I couldn’t help but say a silent prayer to myself and close my eyes.

Encounter with a dragonfly

One afternoon,last week, I saw a little creature, in a larger than life form. I was literally taken aback. The kind of power that tiny creature had to influence me in such a way cannot be described.

I had just reached the door of my house after visiting a bookstore, about to unlock it and in order to unlock it, was frantically searching my bag for the key, when I looked up and suddenly laid my eyes on the most gigantic dragonfly I had ever seen!

It was as long as two mini Mars bars put together. What’s more, it was comfortably seated on the door handle, thereby dashing my hopes of unlocking the door and entering the house.

I have always been afraid of bugs and insects that creep and crawl about. There I was filled with fear all because a harmless dragonfly was confronting me in this way.

I stood for what felt like hours, my mind populated with pictures of other winged insects,and my ears bombarded with the sound of their wings buzzing. I felt a chill run along the length of my spine as I began to take the trouble to clone that single dragon fly into several hundred that were about to perch on my body which for some reason had firmly stuck to the ground.

I examined the fly from top to toe for perhaps the umpteenth time. Deep inside of me I was fully aware that it couldn't bite or scratch. But then again, I imagined how its gauzy wings would feel across the smoothness of my skin. This caused me to shiver.

I had never been more paralyzed with fear in my encounters with insects. I must add that I have previously met with tarantulas, dung beetles and peppermint bugs yet none of these had me more stunned than this giant dragonfly.

I would have remained in that position for God knows what length of time if it hadn't been for my dear grandmother who suddenly opened the door from inside and greeted my smilingly.

She caught me unawares as the door suddenly flew open and there stood she all smiles to greet me. Before she could make her inquiry as to why I had been standing out so long, I barged into my house and shut the door with force increasingly horrified of the possibility that the creature may enter my house with me. Once I had finished with these stylistic maneuvers, she demanded the reasons for my strange behavior. I retorted with a one liner, my back turned away from her half-expecting to hear what she would say next.

My wise grandmother truly enlightened me that afternoon. She explained that the poor creature itself must have feared me ever so much more than I it. But this was something I had heard often enough. However, she went on throwing light on how all beings co-exist in this world and that irrespective of the gauziness of their wings, the colors on their bodies, or for that matter the flakiness of their skins, all were one and I ought to treat each one of them as my neighbors.

All insects big or small add to the beauty of this world. The least we can do for them is to provide a place to rest by letting them be wherever they wish to be even if it is the door handle of one's home.