A short version of this 'scribbling' was rated as one of the top one hundred memorable writings in the world, in the category of "Short Memorable Memoirs."
This real story may read like fiction to those who know us only from 1970s.
-- Dr. T. Rama Prasad (July 2017 -- later, updated a little, but yet to be edited)
OUR LOVE STORY and GOOD OLD DAYS
DOWN MEMORY LANE
"Nostalgia is a file that removes the rough edges from the good old days." -- Doug Larson
"A smooth sea never made a skilful mariner; The path to pleasure is paved with thorns."
The same is the case with 'love-marriages'.
Let's start with the present
This ‘scribbling’ titled ‘Tuning into the radiogram’ gives me more pleasure than the hundreds of my published writings including those 28 articles published in a medical journal on ‘Covid’ in 30 months which made a ‘World Record’ in medical journalism.
The reason may be that this one relates to our ‘love life of music' 55 years ago ! To those who know us only as professionals, this real story may look like fiction, more so the contents of this blog article titled ‘Our Love Story and good old days ’. Read on.
THE HINDU -- OPEN PAGE -- May 14, 2023
T. Rama Prasad
https://www.thehindu.com/opinion/open-page/tuning-into-the-radiogram/article66823991.ece -- E-paper format
( PREMIUM SPECIAL ARTICLE, available exclusively to the subscribers of THE HINDU )
Tuning into the radiogram
A dirge to the big-sized, now-outdated gadget
May 14, 2023 12:38 am | Updated 12:38 am IST Author : T. RAMA PRASAD
For most people of those good old days, radio was the only source of home music in India. The rich had gramophones. | Photo Credit: Getty Images/iStockphoto
It was 1965. MBBS was just added to my name and I was receiving 100 rupees as monthly stipend during my internship in Visakhapatnam. She was studying M.Sc. in the same city. We were not yet married. We went window-shopping one day when we were thrilled to see a just introduced two-in-one model. It was a radiogram, a combination of a radio and a gramophone, which plays three types of recorded vinyl gramophone discs (plates). By the standards of those days, it was of a small compact size (size of a medium-sized suitcase), priced at a whopping 700 rupees.
We ventured to go inside and had an impressive demonstration of it. Intoxicated by the music, we looked at each other and walked out as the price was far above our means. Surged by dopamine and serotonin, the happy hormones, infused by the pleasant music, we walked into a nearby jewellery shop, sold the small gold chain she was wearing and bought the HMV Conquest radiogram. We took turns to keep it in each of our hostel rooms. Her problem was to face the questions about the absence of the gold chain when she goes home on the next vacation.
For most people of those good old days, radio was the only source of home music in India. The rich had gramophones. There were no tape-recorders, no TVs, no cellphones and the myriad music devices of the present day.
In those halcyon days of “Ceylon’s Binaca Geetmala”, we, the raucous youth, used to rapturously sway to the Hindi film songs on Wednesdays in our hostel’s radio room, though we did not know a bit of that language.
The songs Achcha To Hum Chalte Hain (Aan Milo Sajna), Bindiya Chamkegi (Do Raaste), Zindagi Ek Safar Hai Suhana (Andaz) and many others from Rajesh Khanna films made a lasting impression.
April 22 was observed as World Record Store Day. In 2016, after a two-and-a-half-decade lull, there was a serious activity to revive manufacture of “33 rpm long-playing records (LPs)” for unknown reasons — perhaps, audiophiles demand fidelity over clarity. That initiative does not seem to have succeeded much.
Long ago, we sang the dirge of all those outdated big-sized gadgets. The youngsters of today would not have seen those disks and gadgets since they are relics of the past. They must be wondering how people lived in those days without the currently available electronic gadgets and other entertainment facilities. By a stroke of serendipity, we still have that prized possession of the 1965 HMV Conquest gadget along with a wooden stand we got made for 30 rupees after getting married half-a-century ago and four years after buying this radiogram.
drtramaprasad@gmail.com www.rama-scribbles.in
If interested to read more of this story, please go to : https://drtramaprasad.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-love-story-good-old-days_30.html
THE SWEET BITTERNESS
On May 1, 2016, I ( Rama Prasad ) and my better half ( Rajyalakshmi ) walked into an ice-cream parlour (Corner House) at Mysore where there were about a hundred bewildering variants of ice-cream-based items ! We relished an item called "TRIOLOGY" (perhaps, adapted from ‘Shiva Trilogy of Nagas of Amish’ !) ice cream made of the trio of Vanilla, Strawberry and Pista with a mix of Lychees and Apricots topped with ice cream, jelly, mangopal and strawberry syrup, costing Rs. 180 per cup ! The lowest price for a simple Vanilla ice cream here was Rs. 60. And recently, a new ‘avatar’ has emerged in the name of ‘Tava’ icecream, made like a 'mini-dosa' on a ‘freezing‘ pan in Ahmedabad ! We used to pay two rupees for one ice-cream and share it, in 1960s !!!
This visit took us down memory lane to 1960s. Half-a-century down. Rajyalakshmi was in the Andhra University Girls Hostel, near Ramakrishna Beach in Visakhapatnam, for two years, with my sister Nirmala Devi as her room mate, both of them studying M.Sc. Botany (M.Sc. seats were very limited and the courses were available only in University campuses -- difficult to get a seat. Now we can do even Ph.D. at ordinary colleges). And I was in the House Surgeons' Hostel (Room No. 43 -- we code-named the room as 'DeeCee' ... 4th alphabet and 3rd alphabet), in the same city. During those two years, I worked as a 'House Surgeon' in King George Hospital / a 'Tutor' in Andhra Medical College / a 'Medical Officer' in Araku Valley, for varying periods.
Visakhapatnam -- with a port .. a harbour .. hills .. ships .. sea .. fishermen .. beaches .. boats .. Andhra Medical College .. Andhra University ... -- was labelled as a 'costly' but a preferred city in Andhra region.
AIMLESS WANDERING
We used to sidle up to a small 'Kwality' ice cream shop on the Rama Krishna beach near a landmark stone which we code-named as 'Pigmallion Stone' for our rendezvous. It was a secluded shop on the beach overlooking the vast sea with ships here and there. Simple Vanilla ice cream (our meagre pocket money said 'no' to costlier varieties) and some sweet nothings with breeze brushing us like the waves in the sea were our favourites. We set aside our craving for the costly CAPPUCCINO coffee. Ice cream for 2 rupees and sweet nothings for nothing !
Then we used to walk down the sandy stretch to the nearby 'Pigmallion Stone' which was a silent witness to the emotions of the passersby. Collecting some shells on the beach, and sitting on the sand dunes and watching the sea waves silently was a thrill. Silence is a great conversation. The only 'silence-breakers' were the waves. Sometimes the waves crashed so near us disturbing our reverie. Bringing us back to reality. The reality of the hurdles staring at us. The impossibility of the possibility of being together forever loomed large. We were worried. Yet a feeling of great success. Breaking the conventions. The sheer frisson of being part of a societal evolution / revolution exhilarated us. And liking those who did it in reel and real followed.
We liked Ramanayya. He was a student junior to me in the medical college. He appeared more mature than a student. Had 'intercaste love' with his classmate who was a relative of our professor of OG. Even before completion of their studies, they had a simple marriage ceremony at the nearby Simhachalam, famous for a temple on a hill. We climbed up the hill, huffed and puffed, and also stayed in a guest house there. I gave my 'short wave valves radio' to Ramanayya after we purchased a radiogram. 'If Ramanayyas could go through it, so could we', I thought, but not my friend.
MANGO LOVERS
Simhachalam reminds me of the 'Suvarnarekha' variety of mangoes. She is fond of mangoes. I too am. Even today (June 6, 2023), she ordered for another consignment of 'Himampasand' mangoes from a nearby mango farm for a concessional rate of Rs. 100 per kg. You may be perplexed to know that one mango fruit is priced at Rs. 40,000 ! (Rs. 2.5 lakh per kg). World's priciest mango. The variety is called Miyazaki (brought from Madhya Pradesh ; grown widely in Miyazaki in Japan). It was on display at a horticulture mela in Karnataka (Koppal District) in May 2023. Other popular varieties like Koppal Kesar, Benshan, Dasheri, Swarnarekha (like the Simhachalam Suuvarnarekha), Alphonso, Totapuri, Rasamari, Punari and Mallika were also on display
The HMV CONQUEST
With just a few rupees in the pocket, we settled a bill for Rs 700 when we went window-shopping one evening in 1965. We got the money by selling her only gold chain, which she was wearing, on the spot, to buy a radiogram. I didn't buy even a gram of gold for her during the next half-a-century ! No blue Tiffany's box with a giant three-carat diamond ring in it ! No Chanel perfume, no Omega watch, no Louis Vuitton handbag, not even the omnipresent simple cotton yellow bag present in rural interiors of Tamil Nadu. I didn't gift her anything materialistic so far, as the value of gifts is mostly estimated in terms of money. You had already read about that 55-year-old story about the radiogram published in THE HINDU news paper in 2023. More details are at the end of this 'scribbling'. Skip the rest of this bore and read that one.
The DOLPHIN'S NOSE
We used to roam about aimlessly, sit on the edge of the 'Dolphin's Nose' hill staring at. the ships and boats traversing the waterway to and fro the harbour, oblivious of the world around us. A proud display of affection. A feeling of great achievement. People on the boats and ships loudly waved 'Hi' / 'Boo' at us.
We used to go around the ‘Dolphin’s Nose’ hill, at Visakhapatnam, abutting into the Bay of Bengal and take photographs of the ethereal and timeless beauty of nature and flora. Sudden appearance of a crab crawling nearby made her let out a loud cry as though a monster grabbed her. It happens even now whenever a lizard is sighted. One of my photographs of sand dunes with crab footprints, captioned 'Design in Nature', won a prize and was reprinted in the 'Agfa Photo Gallery'.
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Dolphin's Nose Hill
HALF BOTANIST
Our common LOVE is for PLANTS. There used to be (now it is a concrete jungle) an expansive wildly blooming creeper (Antigonon leptopus, or whatever) down the hilly region below the girls hostel. We used to stroll down the hillock to reach the sand dunes near the Ramakrishna beach and take photographs of a wild creeper (Spinifix squarosus -- ‘Ravanaasuridi meesaalu’ meaning whiskers of the demon Ravanaasura) which thrives well on salty and sandy soil. She heaved a sigh and let out a cry lifting one foot. I steadied her, bent , and removed a thorny thing from her foot. It was the dried fruit of what is called 'Palleru Kai' in Telugu (Tribulus terrestris). Not uncommonly, such thorns were found clinging on to bedsheets in those days. Washermen used to dry clothes on sandy soils when the dry thorny fruits get stuck to the linen. And the dried seeds of Ruellia tuberosa used to amuse us with a 'spring-like' opening with a 'tup' sound when they were moistened with water / saliva.
Our passion for plants is such that we used to steal tiny cuttings of plants and hide them in her handbag when the nursery salesmen say 'No, this is not for sale, it's a mother plant'. And we smuggled a cutting of a grass plant concealed in her sari folds as airlines won't permit 'biological materials' to be carried without tedious and tenuous quarantine procedures. We have the prized possession of various exotic plants including Platycerium grande and huge specimens of Ferocactus herrerae and Echinocactus grusonii. I became a 'half botanist' with the acquaintance with the 'half girlfriend'. Go to my blog 'scribbling' titled 'PLANTS and TREES' -- https://drtramaprasad.blogspot.com/2017/04/trees-and-plants_29.html
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I was never serious about my studies though my father used to post a POST CARD every fortnight motivating me read and recapitulate. Recapitulate. That's the word he used to repeat often. Post card was the usual form of communication in those "cellphoneless" days. He had a good hand and used to use every millimetre of the available space on both sides of the post card in small beautiful letters quite unlike my ineligible handwriting. Read my blog 'scribbling' titled "Our Doctors' Handwriting."
One M. D. Easwar and one Chandrasena used to be the first rankers. I used to study for one month before the examinations and pass or fail. Those who read my numerous articles published in medical journals refuse to believe this, however. I used to focus on photography, art, gym exercise, and later, of course, on my girlfriend. Not on studies.
One Satyapal, my classmate, was the inspiration for my art & painting activity and gym exercises. He was Mr. University in body building and used to compete in art & painting shows. I learnt that he left his body in a road accident. I used to compete in bodybuilding, weightlifting, art, painting and photography events, and got some prizes. There were no competitions in 'girlfriendship' !!! I still wonder why Satyapal became a TB patient while still being a medical student. It may be a coincidence that I specialised in TB treatment later.
This scenery, which I painted in 2022, reminds me of our (I, N.Venkatachalam, P.L. Ramadayal and Janakiramaiah) whole-night walk along the coast over the sandy beach towards Bheemunipatnam, about six decades ago. We started after dinner and reached back early in the morning ! We used to walk frequently in the evenings, window-shopping, all the way from the hostel to the Poorna Market. While passing through the KGH junction, we used to see the professor of surgery, Sundararamamurthy, stop his car near a small shop. A boy used to come out to hand over cigarette packets to him regularly. The professor used to come into the class, to give a lecture, with a cigarette between his lips !
JANUARY 2019
We had a Diamond Jubilee celebration of our 1959 medical student batch at Visakapatnam (see my blog article and the group photo below). I, Rajyalakshmi and Nirmala (who came from Singapore for attending this celebration) were present at the function. I saw the classmates after 50 years. I was not in touch with any of them, partly due to paucity of digital communication systems, distance, aloofness and indifference. I couldn't recognise any of them -- they looked like people of a different elderly generation. So, I couldn't even communicate with them as known people -- strangers of a different era. The remorselessness of time made the difference. One should keep on seeing people, now and then, as they get older and older, to be on the same platform. Fifty years on, I created a WhatsApp group (AMC batch 1959) and a blog title. Centenary celebrations of Andhra Medical College are to take place in November 2023.
January 24, 2019 : We both along with Nirmala attended this celebration in 2019
Thanks to the architect. She or he preserved and showcased the gigantic banyan tree which made a unique window scenery at the reception hall. We loved it. You can see a BUDDHA statue underneath the tree among the prop roots of the Ficus bengalensis.
OUT OF TUNE WITH THE TIMES
At that point of time (1960s), our movements used to raise one’s eyebrows. And nosey inquiries .. grapevine .. broadcasting. We used to move around with heads high as we didn't have anything between us except friendship which later turned into 'half girlfriendship'. No more sidling. The world around us was nonexistent. We used to chat in the bright light of lamp posts. We used to sit on the steps of an empty stadium in the open glare of students in the Andhra University campus. A display of heroism. A feeling of superiority. An eternal sense of pride. One Mr. Moorthy, a senior friend and well-wisher made a nosey enquiry about our public movements to caution us. In fact, he facilitated her entry into the botany course when she was initially selected for some other subject, so that both she and Nirmala could study botany together.
Wherever we moved around, we had to be at the gate of the girls hostel before 9.00 pm lest it would be locked. My sister Nirmala, her roommate, was a silent and confused witness to all the evolution of the friendship. We didn't have a two-wheeler. No student had one in those days. We had to go by buses and on our legs, not Bentley The long walks, blissfully, were full of sweet nothings. Miles and miles (not kilometres, in those days) were short distances ! Hours and hours were seconds !
BUSY WITH STUDIES AND. WORK
Because of the studies and work, we never had much time to be together. This, in addition to lack of cellphones, made hundreds of letters fly through post offices. On some Sundays, we roamed more, having an economic vegetarian (she has been a pure vegetarian) lunch at an ordinary hotel. We had nothing to lavish. An unduly delayed lunch used to bring out from her a primal angry response.
I used to assign her some secretarial work -- drafting, fair-copying, copy-editing, etc. in English, to be done at her hostel. We were not from schools like St. Stephen's in Delhi or Good Shepherd in Ooty. We didn’t study in English medium schools which were very few in those days (1940s), and meant for those in high socio-economic echelons. We mostly spoke in the vernacular, and never wrote 'letters' in English. We didn't know much of the English language, and even now we don't. We still say 'poooor' as we are poor in English, quite unlike the city-bred English medium guys. We are poor in mathematics too. Once we gave 4 rupees instead of 2 rupees for one cup of ice cream as 2 of us ate it ! It takes a lot of time for us to convert 60 billion dollars (Bill Gates' property) into two lakh forty thousand crore rupees ! I used to think that she would do good secretarial work for me in the decades ahead. But, alas, I had ended up as her secretary for the next half-a-century.
FOUR-YEARS OF JOURNEY
While wandering like that for two years, she got M.Sc. degree with First Class marks. Even now, I wonder how she could achieve that with all the 'adventurous extra-curricular activity'. The first two years of the 'journey' in one place was followed by another two years in different places -- in different States -- she was working in Andhra Pradesh in Central Tobacco Research Institute (Research Assistant) and Maris Stella College (Lecturer) (my sister Nirmala also worked in this college, until retired as Professor & HOD), and I was here in Tamil Nadu. And we were too preoccupied by prosaic day-to-day concerns.
And we were together but apart. Occasionally in Westmere Bungalow in Ooty, a Guest House in Simhachalam, a medical officer's residence in Arakuvalley which was more like a cattle shed, a railway's Retiring Room, a Hostel Room, a sanatorium Residential Quarters, etc. just as fiends, nothing more. OK, half girl friend and half boy friend. All that created an euphoria of endurance and anticipation. Magic of ambience. Immense burst of endorphins. Marriage is not a rat race, life needn't be either ! Life is a marathon -- a learning experience and a test of endurance.
WHERE TO LIVE ?
Four years was a long 'transit-journey' time -- through colleges .. jobs .. roads .. railways ..beaches .. DeeCee .. Simhachalam .. Araku Valley .. Vijayawada .. Masula .. Nilgiris .. Perundurai ... We had to settle down somewhere, with no reserve money. No money for my further education. In fact, my kind colleagues sent me an amount monthly, as a loan, during my post-graduate education.
Seeing an ad in a newspaper, I casually applied for the post of a Medical Officer at Perundurai Sanatorium (Tamil Nadu). I got it and joined on November 13, 1967. 13 ? Yes, read about the number 13 in my blog article titled "Number 13". And yes, there was a 'Perundurai campus' visit in 1968 (we got married in 1969) for my friend for the taste of the place and a 'preview'. It's not a villa near Madison Square Garden in midtown Manhattan in New York. Any city-bred girl would have said goodbyes and set off ! Because, the 230-acre-campus was full of deafening silence except for an occasional roaring noise of a bus or the scary call of a peacock .. and full of dogs, rats and even snakes everywhere .. and abundant poverty -- we didn't have even a comfortable cot and bed. But, I tell you, it is not the cot or bed that really matters.
Perhaps, our common interest in 'nature', spaces, greenery and gardens made the 'campus' liked by my friend, er .. yes .. half girlfriend (read about 'half girlfriend' later). And in spite of the rats ! -- read about 'Rats and Rajyalakshmi' in my 'scribbling' titled 'Better Half'. We lived in this campus for 35 years though I came here with the plan of working for one year only ! We had grown and made the campus also grow. Rajyalakshmi chose to work on the teaching faculty of a nearby college, Vellalar College for Women (Asst. Professor).
Vellalar College for Women, Golden Jubilee Celebrations, 2019 - 20
THE ABODE
You may read about this campus in my 'scribblings' titled 'Perundurai Sanatorium Campus' and 'Perundurai Rathinam' on this blog. During the latter half of our life in this campus, there was a change in the scenario with the establishment of Perundurai Medical College in the same campus. Hustle and bustle .. more traffic .. more noise .. less of snakes .. less poverty. But, the greenery had increased .. we planted numerous saplings which had grown into huge trees. In the attached photo, somewhere down below, one can see the 18 tall and majestic 'Royal Palm' trees in front of the medical college building. We planted 20 and 18 survived.
The photo below was taken when I went there to participate in a "Continuous Medical Education Programme". After my tenure in the 'campus' as the Medical Superintendent was over, we had chosen to live near that campus by developing our own private 'home cum clinic campus'. So far (2017) 15 years rolled by in the 'new campus' near the 'parent campus'.
Now, let me rewind again to 1960s.
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One sentence in the poem below translates into "The music maestro SPB's exciting songs are reminiscent of our sweet college days."
Half-a-century later, written in July 2017 & June 2023 by Rajyalakshmi. Her penchant for figurative literature seems not faded ! She writes a lot of poetry in Telugu & even in 2023 keeps herself busy solving crossword puzzles. On June 5, 2023, she was exhilarated to have learnt how to type Telugu script on iPhone !
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LETTERS & NON-DIGITAL ERA
And we used to buy plenty of postal envelops (not postcards, for obvious reasons) -- cell phones were not even in the dreams in those days. No TVs also. Fountain pen ink used to flow on to the quintessential notepad evoking a certain emotion with the subtle feel of the paper, indents from the pen’s nib, slight scuffs and rips, as well as the delicate smell of the stationery. Cellphones, most unfortunately, robbed the digital-savvy younger generation of this kind of emotion, exaltation and excitement associated with letters. Perhaps, my art of writing took roots at that time though I didn’t read Wilde, Wells or Wodehouse. I wrote an article on 'MODERN ART' for the Andhra Medical College magazine at that time.
For us, in the non-digital era --- post offices acted as messengers ... postman was the only VIP who gladdened the hearts waiting in anticipation for the thrill of opening the envelope ... a letter was the ultimate pleasure and a nugget. Moods and sentiments dripped from the sweet bits of paper and emblazoned on minds and souls for the rest of the lives. (read about the 'letters' later).
I am left bamboozled and baffled to realize that the era of techno-savvy communication has ditched the hand-written love and transformed post offices into nothing short of dilapidated and haunted houses. The era of long and durable pleasures of satiation by letters is now replaced by that of the volatile and fleeting pleasure by cellphones. Instant connect. Instant gratification. No longing -- one can connect a friend ad infinitum.
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A half-a-century old letter dated 4.10.1967 |
It is nostalgic to see this letter written to me half-a-century ago (4.10.1967), a month before I came to Perundurai and a couple of years before marriage. It is one of the hundreds or thousands. Why so much of written communication ? Reasons -- no cell phones and the prolonged courtship of over four years, fortunately !!
TRUNK CALLS
Only a few privileged people owned landline phone connections. The rest used to go to Post and Telegraph offices rarely to make a “trunk call” (outstation call) and wait for hours and hours to get connectivity and shout in the phone (if they just talk, it wouldn’t be audible!) for a few seconds or at the most a few minutes (they had to pay a huge amount if they talk for more than a minute!).
CULTURAL EVOLUTION
Cultural evolution, for good or bad, takes place continuously and uncontrollably .. despite moral policing. Women shaking hands with men publicly has become common in India now in 2017 ... even hugging, though not that common .. things which were not accepted in the past are now tolerated and even liked. That's part of evolution. But, about marriage ? Traditionally, marriage has been an event between groups of people of the same caste, not just two individuals. The pairing is decided by the groups, the individuals being just followers of the groups' decision, of course, made for the good of the couple in the long term. Long term familial and social support is deemed to be assured. With lack of such support, the two who decide on their own feel segregated and vulnerable. |
I am not talking of the West where permissiveness is pervasive, relationships are a tad fragile and tenuous, arranged marriages (just 10%) are anathema, live-in relationships are not frowned upon, and 41% of the children are born to unwed mothers. For more on this subject read my 'scribblings' titled "Marriage and Mating" / Conjugal Culture" and "The Changing World."
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Romance and Risk
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SOCIETAL BARRIERS
Even in those non-Covid days, 'distancing' was practised -- boys and girls hostels were located very distantly ! And a very conservative India it was – if a girl student chats with a male classmate, the news used to spread around like a wildfire and as fast as sex scandals; it was even considered a taboo ! Relatives and the society didn't accept anything which was not in conformity with conventions. That's what stood in the way of our marriage. Even wearing a pant and a top, or churidar by a girl student was an anathema. Bobbed hair was greeted with loud boos.
Caste compatibility reigned supreme. Our family members were either ambivalent or antagonistic. In this age of ‘Apps’, the old generation’s attitudes are viewed as old hat. But the impulsive human behaviour and the basic social framework are more or less the same even in this age and time. I thought so, reminiscing about those days which had an air of romance, frustration and also the risk like walking on a railway track. Read the bestselling novel of Chetan Bhagat -- 2 STATES – a story of an inter-community love marriage to know why I thought so. Perhaps, we 'fast-forwarded' on the cultural timeline.
'JUST FRIENDS' & 'HALF GIRLFRIEND' -- nothing more !
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Friendship |
I know her years before she came to Visakhapatnam for studying M.Sc. because she was my sister Nirmala's classmate while studying B.Sc. at Machilipatnam. That acquaintance bloomed into friendship while at Visakhapatnam.
When I proposed marriage, my friend was very clear and crisp by saying 'I don't want to get married to anybody'. I asked 'Why ?'. She said 'It's because I can't marry you'. I again said 'Why ?' With conviction and confidence, she said 'It's impossible as intercaste marriages are not approved by anybody including our relatives'. I queried 'What happens to us ?' Came the firm and decisive reply 'You get married to somebody. We will remain just as friends'. Bereft of ideas / hope we 'wandered' for another two years though I thought it would be a stupid surrender to meaningless societal norms.
Notwithstanding the close friendship, she had remained very 'orthodox' and 'bound to conventions', in a way, strictly being nothing more than a "half girlfriend" for a long period of four years.
What is this "half girlfriend" ? While reading the novel titled "Half girlfriend", in 2010s, I had a strong sense of déjà vu. Something like that happened in 1960s. If you don't understand what is meant by 'half girlfriend', read page 67 of the very popular novel titled 'half girlfriend ' by Chetan Bhagat. I don't read many novels. But I 'studied' a few. My friend reads a lot of them, but she didn't read 'half girlfriend'. On the back cover of the book, "unafraid generation" is mentioned. I resolved to be one among this generation. One should be bold to face problems, not sulk in the shadows. Yes, the path is paved with thorns.
Back cover of the novel
Page 67 of the novel
I liked Chetan Bhagat until page 188. I hated him when I reached page 188 as he made Riya a lung cancer patient and ruined the life of Madhav. He could have at least let them live as 'half couple' for the rest of their lives, if marriage was not made possible.
Then, there's a twist. I loved Chetan when I reached page number 254. Madhav thought Riya died of lung cancer after a few years, but found in her journal (diary) later that she faked 'lung cancer' to be away from him as his mother and the society around won't approve their desired 'love marriage'. Then he made a monumental search for her and found Riya alive in New York !!!
A LONG WAIT & THE FINAL STOP
And we were together but apart. Occasionally in Westmere Bungalow in Ooty, a Guest House in Simhachalam, a medical officer's residence in Arakuvalley which was more like a cattle shed, a railway's Retiring Room, a Hostel Room, a sanatorium Residential Quarters, etc. just as friends, nothing more. OK, 3/4th girlfriend.
She had ever been quick to apply breaks to my proposals, saying that it would be impossible. That is why I nicknamed Rajyalakshmi as 'Breaklakshmi' ! Now, let me fast forward and come to the end of 1960s ... the 'transit-journey' of four years had the final stop at Kakinada. We don't know anybody in Kakinada ... it happened that the marriage registration office was in that town. The marriage was on November 15, 1969 -- sans pomp, publicity, ostentation, festivity, glitter, glamour, guests, gathering, cameramen, catering, etc. Just the registration in an office, and tying the knot in a hotel room with just a few around. No wedding invitation cards, only wedding announcement cards. People in India wouldn't have seen such announcement cards. People in Perundurai were baffled when I went on leave for 10 days and returned with a wife !!! We didn't go to Bora Bora islands in the Pacific Ocean for a honeymoon !!! We were just in our own world.
Not an easy decision, but necessitated by circumstances. Neither the close relatives approved nor did we have the money to do more. 'Negativelakshmi' (another sobriquet I coined for her negativity) thought that the marriage was an impossibility -- a negative mindset on the wedlock ! (She deserves that nickname, because even today, May 23, 2023, after half-a-century, when I asked 'Can our 1965 radiogram be brought down from the attic ?, she spontaneously replied 'It's impossible, a laborious task'.) ! After the publication of my article in The Hindu newspaper on May 14, 2023 on this radiogram, many wanted to see it. So I wanted it to be brought down from the attic. Read the copy of the article down below.
A nonconformist has to be brave and be prepared to live alone with just only one soul to support ... and we both were. Read the quote again at the beginning of this a'scribbling' : "A smooth sea never made a skilful mariner; The path to pleasure is paved with thorns."
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| Bill dated 16.11.1969 (the next day after the marriage) -- Rs.43.25 -- 2 persons -- 2 Days ! |
GOOD OLD RATES
Good old days. The hotel bill shows the date as 16.11.1969. That is the next day after the marriage. There was a cyclonic storm around that date ... and a storm too in our minds ! The bill shows that the room rent was 10 (ten) rupees per day, boarding charges Rs. 11.25 and 'Hot Water supply' charge 75 paisa ... total Rs. 43.25 for two persons for two days !!! We may not get 2 cups of good coffee for that amount today (2017) !! That's the height of inflation and the rupee value ! There must have been higher class of hotels there, but our pockets were not deep enough.
RUPEE VALUE
What a difference in rupee value ! And, for 2 rupees we used to get bread and omelette in 'Paawan Bakery' hotel near the medical college hospital. By the side of that small hotel, there was Appa Rao's R.K. Photo Studio. I used to print photos myself in the 'dark room' of this tiny shop for making prints for photo competitions .. manual 'black & white' printing in that 'non-digital, non-colour' era ! All those old buildings have since been replaced by unfamiliar giant concrete structures now. Nothing manmade seems to be permanent, except, perhaps, the GOOGLE !
Sixty rupees. This was the amount of the prize I got for scoring marks of a UNIVERSITY FIRST rank in an examination ! We may get just one cup of Cappuccino coffee now in 2023. Ten rupees was the room rent in a hotel ! Sixty rupees was the amount paid for food and accommodation in a medical college hostel ! Two rupees for an ice-cream !
A LONG STORY
Everything in life comes with compromises ... life is a matter of compromises. Only those who dare to be different choose an unconventional path. Well .. that is a long story .. Chetan Bhagat could have written a novel based on this love story. I didn't use much the word LOVE in this memoir as it lost most of its meaning in this modern materialistic world, though it manifests itself in many morphed modes -- hypocrisy ... pretensions ...
MEMORABILIA
We bought these statuettes about half-a-century ago. I don't remember exactly when. My 'half girlfriend' must be remembering. She has a good memory for trivia !! A brainy girl ! The theme of the figures is the same. -- one is classical and mythological; the other is modern and sensational. I liked one and she liked the other -- perhaps, we have different tastes on some matters. So, we quarrel sometimes. On those occasions, I call her 'Angrylakshmi'', another nickname I gave to her. Ability to shout and quarrel is an index of good health !! I gave her another nickname: 'Vegetarian Vampire'. She is a pure vegetarian though she is excellent in the culinary art of making non-vegetarian dishes ! The distinction is getting blurred. Now, we have 'Paleo-Veg' making rounds. I wrote something on 'Paleo diet' on my blog. I write a lot of critical writings.
QUIRKY SCRIBBLING
She suggests to me not to criticise too much in media and not to write on personal matters. I would incur her wrath if she reads this quirky scribbling on 'us' ! But no chance. She won't read this. You will know why she won't read this, if you go through my 'scribbling' titled 'Better Half' ! I wouldn't have written on this personal matter, but the little writer in me took the better of me. To almost all who know us only as professionals,, this memoir may look so incredible ! Quirky ! Stranger than fiction !
RADIOGRAM
And, there was a gadget called ‘Radiogram’, a combination of a radio and a gramophone for playing gramophone disks. Recently I found in my old trunk (metal suit case of the bygone era) a more than half-a-century-old bill (receipt) of a radiogram – HMV Conquest -- which I and Rajyalakshmi (both unmarried at that time) bought at Visakhapatnam while she was doing her M.Sc.(Botany) in 1965. And I was doing my MBBS ‘internship’ in the same city at the same time..
The discovery of the bill sent me into a nostalgic reverie. We thought of buying it for Rs. 700 on instalment payment basis from my 'House Surgeon (Internship) stipend'. Finally, we sold her only gold chain and bought it. Ironically, I never bought her a gold jewel in the past half-a-century ! The 1965 Conquest radiogram (a photo of it is attached), with a double colour wooden cabinet, and the gramophone disks are still with us. They gave us a certain “luxury quotient” in those days, and even now. We still cherish it. Rajyalakshmi is a shy singer with a lot of knowledge on music. She has an ear for rhythm and melody.
This ‘scribbling’ titled ‘Tuning into the radiogram’ gives me more pleasure than the hundreds of my published writings including those 28 articles published in a medical journal on ‘Covid’ in 30 months which made a ‘World Record’ in medical journalism.
The reason may be that this one relates to my ‘love life of music (muse)’ 55 years ago ! To those who know me only as a medical professional, this real story may look like fiction, more so the contents of my blog article titled ‘Our Love Story ...’. Read on.
THE HINDU -- OPEN PAGE -- May 14, 2023
T. Rama Prasad
https://www.thehindu.com/opinion/open-page/tuning-into-the-radiogram/article66823991.ece -- E-paper format
( PREMIUM SPECIAL ARTICLE, available exclusively to the subscribers of THE HINDU )
Tuning into the radiogram
A dirge to the big-sized, now-outdated gadget
May 14, 2023 12:38 am | Updated 12:38 am IST Author : T. RAMA PRASAD
For most people of those good old days, radio was the only source of home music in India. The rich had gramophones. | Photo Credit: Getty Images/iStockphoto
It was 1965. MBBS was just added to my name and I was receiving 100 rupees as monthly stipend during my internship in Visakhapatnam. She was studying M.Sc. in the same city. We were not yet married. We went window-shopping one day when we were thrilled to see a just introduced two-in-one model. It was a radiogram, a combination of a radio and a gramophone, which plays three types of recorded vinyl gramophone discs (plates). By the standards of those days, it was of a small compact size (size of a medium-sized suitcase), priced at a whopping 700 rupees.
We ventured to go inside and had an impressive demonstration of it. Intoxicated by the music, we looked at each other and walked out as the price was far above our means. Surged by dopamine and serotonin, the happy hormones, infused by the pleasant music, we walked into a nearby jewellery shop, sold the small gold chain she was wearing and bought the HMV Conquest radiogram. We took turns to keep it in each of our hostel rooms. Her problem was to face the questions about the absence of the gold chain when she goes home on the next vacation.
For most people of those good old days, radio was the only source of home music in India. The rich had gramophones. There were no tape-recorders, no TVs, no cellphones and the myriad music devices of the present day.
In those halcyon days of “Ceylon’s Binaca Geetmala”, we, the raucous youth, used to rapturously sway to the Hindi film songs on Wednesdays in our hostel’s radio room, though we did not know a bit of that language.
The songs Achcha To Hum Chalte Hain (Aan Milo Sajna), Bindiya Chamkegi (Do Raaste), Zindagi Ek Safar Hai Suhana (Andaz) and many others from Rajesh Khanna films made a lasting impression.
April 22 was observed as World Record Store Day. In 2016, after a two-and-a-half-decade lull, there was a serious activity to revive manufacture of “33 rpm long-playing records (LPs)” for unknown reasons — perhaps, audiophiles demand fidelity over clarity. That initiative does not seem to have succeeded much.
Long ago, we sang the dirge of all those outdated big-sized gadgets. The youngsters of today would not have seen those disks and gadgets since they are relics of the past. They must be wondering how people lived in those days without the currently available electronic gadgets and other entertainment facilities. By a stroke of serendipity, we still have that prized possession of the 1965 HMV Conquest gadget along with a wooden stand we got made for 30 rupees after getting married half-a-century ago and four years after buying this radiogram.
drtramaprasad@gmail.com www.rama-scribbles.in
If interested to read more of this story, please go to : https://drtramaprasad.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-love-story-good-old-days_30.html
Here is the first paragraph of this blog article :
" On May 18, 2016, I and my better half Rajyalakshmi walked into an ice-cream parlour (Corner House) at Mysore where there were about a hundred bewildering variants of ice-cream-based items ! We relished an item called "TRIOLOGY" (perhaps, adapted from ‘Shiva Trilogy of Nagas of Amish’ !) ice cream made of the trio of Vanilla, Strawberry and Pista with Lychees and Apricots topped with ice cream, jelly, mangopal and strawberry syrup, costing Rs. 180 per cup ! The lowest price for a simple Vanilla ice cream here was Rs. 60. And recently, a new ‘avatar’ has emerged in the name of ‘Tava’ icecream, made like a ‘mini-dosa’ on a ‘freezing‘ pan in Ahmedabad ! We used to pay two rupees for one ice-cream and share it in 1960s !!! "
If interested to know about Rajyalakshmi’s love for the music of SP Balasubrahmanyam, please go to :
https://drtramaprasad.blogspot.com/2017/04/spb.html
THE HINDU newspaper & ME
MY 'SCRIBBLES' in THE HINDU
“I don’t go about shouting,
My writings make the noise.” -- T. Rama Prasad, www.rama-scribbles.in
More than half-a-century ago, I wrote a letter to THE HINDU which was published to my excitement. It caused a shiver of delight in me. I felt as if I won a Booker Prize ! This 'accident' made me an ‘accidental letter writer' ! That little letter in print inspired me to write more. A huge number of my letters were published in many newspapers and magazines. And many articles were also published in THE HINDU and some medical journals.
And today (May 7, 2023), I received a mail from THE HINDU newspaper informing me that my article submitted recently would be published on May 14, 2023 (Sunday, OPEN PAGE). This brought me more happiness than my recent publications in a medical journal (world's first case of Yellow Nail Syndrome with Covid, etc. and a world record of 28 articles in 30 months on the single subject of 'COVID' in a single medical journal * ).
The reason for the happiness may be that this article in THE HINDU is about my personal life, more than 55 years ago, related to a music gadget and a music-loving girl !!! What is that music gadget and who is that girl ? The answer will be in the article.
* for details about the ‘COVID’ articles, please go to the LINK below :
https://drtramaprasad.blogspot.com/2017/04/yellow-nail-syndrome_28.html
Some of my articles published in THE HINDU:
1. How effective is the TB control programme ? (Special Article) -
The Hindu, Vol.100, No.274, p.8, 1977.
2. Five years Plans and TB Control Programme (Special Article) - The Hindu, Vol.101, No. 275
3. HEALTH CHECK-UP: how healthy is it ? - The Hindu, Open Page, Jan. 15,
2012 - ……http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/open page/article2801701.ece
4. THE ‘GOOGLE EFFECT’: may be good, may be bad - The Hindu, Open Page, April 22,2012
( This is the 1st page of my BLOG article titled “THE HINDU newspaper & ME”. To see the full article, please go to :https://drtramaprasad.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-in-newspapers_28.html )
Print-paper format
2021
2022
2023
Yes, I understand .. you are getting sick with this story. Thank you for patiently reading this crashing bore, stifling many a yawn .. Bye .. Goodbye.
" Think about this metonymic adage : "PEN IS MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD." It means that the seemingly benign intellectual (pen or grass blade) is stronger than the malignant warrior (sword or weapon). In English, personification, onomatopoeia, imagery and metonymy are used to emphasise a point. Long live the pens of Kofi Awoonor and Mariska Taylor-Darko !!! " -- T. Rama Prasad
Strolling down memory lane further
THE RADIO ROOM
A riff of an old bollywood tune would leave the older generation in nostalgia and an yearning for the past that exists only in one’s head. To reminisce, our generation’s exposure to media also was very limited even during the period when I was a medical student. In fact, in our medical college hostel, we used to crowd into what was called a ‘radio room’ (a room containing a radio and a few chairs – TV was not yet introduced in India at that point of time – 1960s) on Wednesday nights to listen to Hindi songs of the Ceylon Radio programme called “Binaca Geeth Maalaa”, if I remember correctly. That was great entertainment ! Raucous youths.
Rewinding to the halcyon days in the hostel, the oldies must nostalgically be walking down memory lane when they were rapturously swaying in the ‘radio room’ to the tunes Achcha To Hum Chalte Hain (Aan Milo Sajna), Bindiya Chamkegi (Do Raaste), Zindagi Ek Safar Hai Suhana (Andaz) and many others from Rajesh Khanna (who had a complete generation of his under his inimitable spell) films like Aradhana, Safar, Chhoti Bahu, Anand, Hathi Mere Saathi, Andaz, etc.
Ironically, most of us who enjoyed the above songs didn’t know a bit of Hindi ! That icon, the 'first superstar' of Bollywood, Rajesh Khanna, alas, is no more today. He breathed his last on July 18, 2012. Other music programmes over the radio sans visuals of the songs were focussed on the beats and lyrics, something quintessential to music. Today, with the great technology at hand, we can just tune to the songs we like by a few touches on the screen without the ‘Binaca Geeth malaa’, but that doesn’t amount to serendipity !
RECORD PLAYER
Later on, we added to the ‘Radio Room’ one ‘latest’ audio system called ‘Record Player’ which played huge 33 rpm long playing gramophone vinyl record disks (LPs) of about a foot in diameter with grooves for about one dozen songs, on a turntable. About six disks were played automatically one by one. It was a thrill to see the disks falling one by one while the arm holding the stylus moved in and out on its own. We used to think that it was a great technological breakthrough as the previous disks of 78 rpm used to accommodate only two songs per disk ! And there were disks of 45 rpm of smaller size. But big was beautiful in those days, including the stars on the silver screen who were like ‘laddus’. Bigger the radio and bigger the record player, greater was the pride of the owner. Just compare with the enormous volume of hundreds and thousands of songs in the tiny iPod which is smaller than a cigarette case.
Long ago, we sang the dirge of all those outdated big-sized gadgets. The youngsters of today would not have seen those disks and gadgets since they are relics of the past! They must be wondering how people lived in those days without the currently available electronic gadgets and other entertainment facilities.
KEROSENE LAMPS and KOLLIPARA
Kerosene lamps, ‘petromax’ lights, ink pens, metal suitcases (trunks), fabric ‘hold-all’s, horse-drawn carts, slow steam engine trains, soda machines, copper water boilers and the like kindle the cherished memories of the old fossils. My father, Dr. T. V. Swami, MBBS, was posted in a Primary Health Centre at a place called Kollipara where electrification was still awaited. I used to read in the light of a kerosene lamp. My father (a doctor) used to buy neem / ‘ponga’ tree branch sticks of the size of a toothbrush (tied into bundles of 10 or so, costing one ‘anaa’, 1/16th of a rupee, for each bundle) from pavement vendors. People used to chew the end of the stick and use it as a toothbrush to clean teeth every morning. Most of them didn’t visit a dentist in their lifetime !
In such an undeveloped rural area, my father used to do all sorts of surgery, ranging from general surgery to eye surgery to gynaecological surgery, with just an MBBS qualification. He used to do surgical amputation of legs, with the patient lying on an ordinary table, with the assistance of a few unskilled staff of the Primary Health Centre. No anaesthetist. Specialists were present in only big cities.
My father used to get a transfer to a new place once in a few years. So, I studied in different schools in different places. And as there were no communication facilities in those days, I used to lose touch with classmates of the previous schools. That's why I don't have any childhood friends. When I was studying PUC (11th standard), I used to take great pride in having a small battery operated horn on the handle bar of my bicycle. The battery was once stolen when I forgot one day to remove and pocket it when the cycle was parked ! Cycles were not stolen unlike in these days when even cars disappear from parking bays. During summer vacations, we used to go to our native village, Mallavolu, where there were no roads and electricity. We used to travel by a bullock cart proudly owned by our grandfather, Bathina Nagabhushanam, a 'landlord'. My mother, Kanaka Durgamba, used to make delicious dishes and enjoy embroidery as a hobby. An embroidered door curtain crafted by her in 1960s is still with us (see the photo below which is just (July 10, 2023) posted to me by my sister Nirmala who is now in Hong Kong with her daughter 'Chinnapapa'. Nirmala came to Hong Kong a month ago from Singapore where her another daughter 'Peddapapa' resides.
My mother used to keep her jewels in an antique ivory box given to her by my father before I was born, nearly a century ago. He brought the box from RANGOON where he just disembarked a ship which was destroyed by bombing the next day after he embarked, around the time of the 2nd World War !!! He was a 'Ship Doctor' on that ship. The box (see the photo below) is still with us.
The relatives there in Mallavolu village used to compete with one another in hosting lunches (not dinners, perhaps, as there was no electricity !) for us. People were genuinely affectionate and happy in those good old days. These days it's mostly a pretension and hypocrisy. Such memories of a momentary transaction from the past are almost Proustian in their evocative powers.
NOSTALGIA
And, much as I try, I fail to recognise much melody in the music I hear around nowadays, much taste in the modern ‘avatars’ of culinary delicacies in restaurants and much reading pleasure in the Kindle app. This, by the way, is not a rant against modernity but a tribute to the past glory. However, new genres, new sensibilities, new sensitivities, new goals, new expectations, new disillusionment, new behaviour, new values, new morals, new attitudes, new trends, new tastes, new wastes, new attire, new ego, new selfishness, new foods, new ice creams ... cropped up and confounded the new generation, Gen-Y, while the deep river of tradition didn't dry up much.
The river is the same old one, though the flowing water is ever new every moment. It is a strange feeling harking back to ‘good old days’ and romanticizing them with anecdotes. Nostalgia ! Woody Allen had brutally put in his 2011 film ‘Midnight in Paris’: “Nostalgia is denial, denial of the painful present.” A delusional denial. It is just how nostalgia affects our brains.
It’s a thrilling feeling once in a while to rewind and soak in some evergreen memories … of the days of a whale of a time … strolling down memory lane …
GOOD OLD DAYS !!!
Nowadays, the family and the friends are mostly on the Net.
(the NET was a fish-catching material ! )
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| In 2016, at home |
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| In 2017, in Singapore, at the S.E.A. Aquarium |
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| In 2016, at a 'reception' int Erode |
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| In 1965, in Vizag |
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| In 2014, in a Park in Singapore |
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| ( The gap between these two photographs is FIFTY years, but the persons are the same -- me, Nirmala and Rajyalakshmi !!! ) |
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| In 2017 |
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In 2017
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PASSION, MONEY and HAPPINESS
This is an excerpt from my blog article titled “OUR LOVE STORY” which is in the link below : https://drtramaprasad.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-love-story-good-old-days_30.html
We ( I & Rajyalakshmi ) have a passion for charity (‘daanam & dharmam’’), gardening and writing. Helping the needy infuses a positive energy into us. Service to humanity is service to god. NATURE IS OUR GOD. Even in my room in Andhra Medical College Men’s Hostel, I used to grow ‘chains’ of' ‘money plants’ from water bottles hung to the window frame in those days (1960s). She studied BOTANY in the university. I studied in gardens. Go to my article titled "Trees and Plants" on my blog. https://drtramaprasad.blogspot.com/2017/04/trees-and-plants_29.html
We always had lots of 'money plants' -- but not lots of money! Read my blog article titled"Richness and Happiness" -- https://drtramaprasad.blogspot.com/2017/04/richness-and-happiness_28.html . We spend more than what we can afford on charity and plants. We are not rich. People think that we are rich, going by our attire and lifestyle, but our bank balance had always been a meagre amount. 'Happiness balance' had always been high though. The reason for this desirable equation is my "PAY WHAT YOU CAN Clinic" -- read about it -- https://drtramaprasad.blogspot.com/2017/04/what-you-can-clinic_30.html . In this clinic, the patient has the choice to pay whatever she / he can. No fixed fee.
The concept of this type of clinic dawned on me about 70 years ago when my schoolmate 'GORU' didn't turn up after a summer vacation. She died of a disease due to lack of money for treatment. That motivated me to let people pay what they can.
This system didn't make any sense to many doctors. Even my kith and kin didn't find any sense in it. None stepped into my shoes. The charitable activity only attracted a derogatory smile, as I may have been viewed as a fool or a philosopher devoid of any common sense. I tell you from my long experience that the Income from such a clinic would be sufficient for a doctor's need, but not greed.
In our lifetime, we found that our happiness had been inversely proportional to affluence. The younger generation seems to be less happy as they tend to chase endlessly the mirage of affluence. The very young are even 'tortured' by parents and teachers to get high marks in examinations to pave their way to affluence in future. The young minds are tuned to be obsessed with wealth. Money may ensure some sort of comforts, security and some insurance against some odds, but not necessarily happiness. 'Samastha Lokha Sukhino Bhavanthu' (May All be Happy) -- that's the true happiness.
‘Money is not everything in life’. People are tired of such platitudes and sermons, and find sense in what Warren Buffett said (see the quote below). That’s because money is a common denominator for most of the things. If we want to help someone or ourselves, mostly, money is needed though ‘rich in money’ doesn’t mean ‘rich in charity’. Mostly, people come to us to take, not to give. We are not kings, nor saints.
Some money is needed for a comfortable living, educating children or helping others (charity). And we must work to earn that money using our available brain power, skill power and / or material power, through fair means. My father didn’t have the money to educate me further. Could I have been at a higher professional level, if he had the money ? No regrets.
Due to lack of money, we couldn’t buy the radiogram without selling the only gold chain that she had (my girlfriend has a passion for music), had to wait for four years to get married, couldn’t celebrate our marriage normally, couldn’t get educated further, couldn’t help our kith and kin or others to the extent we wanted to, didn't own a farm to walk around under the canopy of lush green trees, and couldn’t have a smooth sailing in life. But no regrets, as we became good navigators (read the quote at the beginning of my article titled “OUR LOVE STORY” -- ’A smooth sea never made a skilful mariner; The path to pleasure is paved with thorns’) and sailed through the very rough sea very happily. That’s the thrill of HAPPINESS which a king can’t get. Living a life is a thrill. We can't plan everything in life. We sail in a boat, depending up on the current of the water and the velocity of the wind. That's the reality.
“Richness is not having lots of money. It is the feeling that one has enough of it.
Contentment is what makes one really rich.” -- T. Rama Prasad
“Money is not everything. But make sure you earn a lot before speaking such nonsense.” -- Warren Buffett
My doctor father also didn't earn much money, partly because he kept “business tricks in medical practice” at a distance. He used to send me Rs.100 per month by ‘postal money order' while I was studying MBBS (an amount which may not be sufficient to have a good breakfast today !). Postman used to come to the hostel and deliver the money. Bank services were not well-developed; credit cards, debit cards and online transactions were not even in the dreams. After paying the ‘hostel mess bill’, I used to lavish a little of the extra money for my hobby of photography. The Yashika roll film camera (no digital cameras in those days; and mostly ‘Black & White’ pictures) of one of my classmates (V.L.N. Reddy who settled in UK ) used to be with me always.
Though we had not been rich, we helped a lot of people in many ways, albeit in a small way, without publicity. And we loved them more than we loved each other. The happiness we derived from this is the ultimate satisfaction in our lives.
PARALLEL LIVES !!!
Nevertheless, we have divergent opinions on various matters. We argue. We fight. We are often not on the same platform. We are like parallel rails -- together, but apart !!! Like richness and happiness !!!
THIS IS AN ABRIDGED TEXT OF MY SCRIBBLING. FULL TEXT WILL BE POSTED LATER. -- T. Rama Prasad |
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