GRANDPA: He imagined he was a hip, young grandpa. In winters he wore a hoodie and his usual Veshti (also called Dhoti in North India) which is a long white cotton (or sometimes silk) band of cloth wrapped around the waist and that reached down to the feet. It is a typical South Indian traditional male attire though females in the state of Kerala too wear a simple version of it called "Mundu". In the tropics the men rarely wore anything on the top except on formal occasions or in the tropical winters.
Here in the cold freezing winters of the Alpine region in this western country, he still clung to a few vestiges of his heritage as he wore it around the house and yard sometimes. He liked to pun - "This is a "Veshtige" of my original culture". Sometimes he wore a more colourful version of this garment, also called a "Lungi". This usually has the two ends sewn together to make a circular band. It is often found in bright, multicoloured, checkered patterns.
While the white, or slightly off-white Veshti with gold or a thin coloured border is the traditional dress of the Brahmins - and a formal attire in schools, parliaments, courts and temples and during weddings, the Lungi is the attire of the working class - much like the 'jeans' were for the gold miners. It is now famously popular as the lower-half of the dress even in the north of India among truck drivers.
Even a tiny spot of dirt can be spotted anywhere on a Veshti and it can be frowned upon, almost as much as a spot on the character of the person wearing it. On the other hand, you could spill your entire spicy, multi-coloured meal on your Lungi and no one could be the wiser!
The sight of the grandpa in this Veshti or Lungi, gangsta-rapper style hoodie, socks and shoes with his unshaven bristly salt-and-pepper face with his dark sunglasses, out on a winter walk could easily scare a little western child or two, but he still got along very well with the little ones. It was the adults who manfully suppressed expression of a bigger shock. His neighbours and the town folk were all very gracious and avoided paying any conscious attention to it though he had caught a few quickly averting their glance or stare if he happened to look in their direction. Some commented on his 'Malay' looking 'Sarong'. While his own kids had learned to get past their embarrassment of his walking around in his Indian attire as young kids, they were even more embarrassed when he wore a mix of eastern and western clothes! They had to accept his stubborn determination to dress as he pleased.
"I don't have to dress to please anyone, anymore," he proudly said often, "Remember, most who wear a suit are out to win the approval of someone. I had to wear formal western clothes when I first started to work as an engineer. I could have done my job in any dress. I have now the freedom to be as I want and I will."
It was true. Grandpa had done well in life, earned and provided for his family and he did not need to work or dress to please anyone anymore.
Grandpa liked to tell stories. He usually had more than one version of each of his stories and of even the most popular children's tales. They would start in the usual, same manner and then slowly, gradually and often twisted off into a completely different ending than what was previously known. Usually, there was something worth noting from the difference. Just like a story had its moral, the changed version usually had an equally worthy and different moral.
His children wanted him to tell his style of stories to their own kids - his grandchildren. It was a while before the little ones began to understand that Grandpa's little game. At first, the little ones protested at the unexpected turns in the story, which they had already heard before. Then gradually, they came to look forward to the 'different', 'grandpa-version' of the story too.
Everyone remembered the first time grandpa told the story of "The Hare and The Tortoise" to his three grand-kids - a girl aged three, a boy aged two and a baby girl less than an year old at a family gathering. They had already heard the story before from their parents and teachers. The first time they heard it from their Grandpa, he told it to the traditional plot. They were in splits as the grandpa pretended to be the 'hairy hare' and slept and started to snore loudly halfway into the race. The little crawling baby tortoise climbed all over him, tugged on his whiskers and beard and refused to crawl to the finish line until she was picked up by her mother and taken past it. She immediately crawled back to the surprised and awakened hare. All had a great laugh.
"I have heard this story in kindergarten," said the little girl.
"So, what is the moral of the story, sweetheart?"
"If you are like the tortoise, keep going without stopping. You can win" said the girl.
"That's right!"
The next night, the kids wanted to have the same story again.
"Ok, I will tell you a story of the hare and the tortoise. After I finish, you must tell me moral of the story. OK?" said Grandpa. The little ones nodded.
"Is it the same hare and the tortoise?" asked the little boy.
"Yes. Listen carefully though," said his father.
So, Grandpa began in his usual style. His grown-up children watched as the different story unfolded.
"There once was a hare and a tortoise. The hare could run very fast and the tortoise could only crawl slowly. The hare was quite proud and the tortoise resented him. So, he challenged him to a race.
They set off from the starting line. The hare took off really fast. The tortoise followed slowly," said Grandpa as he sped fast half the way from the starting line and stopped to see the little baby look at him smiling and eager to follow him as his mother held him back. The baby wriggled out of her grip and came at a blistering pace (she could crawl real fast, much faster than Grandpa.
Grandpa looked shocked and said,"Maybe she should be the hare. Perfect! Lets start the story again with her as the hare. I will be the tortoise. Get her baby's favourite toy on the finish line!"
So they restarted the race with the baby as the hare. Her mother waving her favourite toy at the finish line. Grandpa became the tortoise. He started narrating again in his booming voice, holding the baby.
"There once was a hare and a tortoise. The hare could run very fast and the tortoise could only crawl slowly. The hare was quite proud and the tortoise resented him. So, he challenged him to a race."
Grandpa released the baby. As soon as the baby was let go at the starting line, she sped without looking back straight to the finish line.
"They set off from the starting line. The hare took off really fast. The tortoise followed slowly. The hare did not even look back or stop. It sped straight to the finish line and won the race," said Grandpa crawling slowly.
"But! But the tortoise won the race in the story, Grandpa!" the little boy said looking surprised.
"That was another story, Son. This is a different story. Same hare and the tortoise, but a different day, different story," said Grandpa.
"So, what is the moral of this story?" asked the little boy's father.
"If you are fast and dont stop or waste your time you will win," said the little girl.
"That is right!"
"What about the poor tortoise?" asked the little boy.
"Well, perhaps he should race mostly with other tortoises. He cannot always win against hares. If the tortoise thinks all hares are foolish and will lose, he will be disappointed," said Grandpa.
Copyright (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2017
All rights reserved
Here in the cold freezing winters of the Alpine region in this western country, he still clung to a few vestiges of his heritage as he wore it around the house and yard sometimes. He liked to pun - "This is a "Veshtige" of my original culture". Sometimes he wore a more colourful version of this garment, also called a "Lungi". This usually has the two ends sewn together to make a circular band. It is often found in bright, multicoloured, checkered patterns.
While the white, or slightly off-white Veshti with gold or a thin coloured border is the traditional dress of the Brahmins - and a formal attire in schools, parliaments, courts and temples and during weddings, the Lungi is the attire of the working class - much like the 'jeans' were for the gold miners. It is now famously popular as the lower-half of the dress even in the north of India among truck drivers.
Even a tiny spot of dirt can be spotted anywhere on a Veshti and it can be frowned upon, almost as much as a spot on the character of the person wearing it. On the other hand, you could spill your entire spicy, multi-coloured meal on your Lungi and no one could be the wiser!
The sight of the grandpa in this Veshti or Lungi, gangsta-rapper style hoodie, socks and shoes with his unshaven bristly salt-and-pepper face with his dark sunglasses, out on a winter walk could easily scare a little western child or two, but he still got along very well with the little ones. It was the adults who manfully suppressed expression of a bigger shock. His neighbours and the town folk were all very gracious and avoided paying any conscious attention to it though he had caught a few quickly averting their glance or stare if he happened to look in their direction. Some commented on his 'Malay' looking 'Sarong'. While his own kids had learned to get past their embarrassment of his walking around in his Indian attire as young kids, they were even more embarrassed when he wore a mix of eastern and western clothes! They had to accept his stubborn determination to dress as he pleased.
"I don't have to dress to please anyone, anymore," he proudly said often, "Remember, most who wear a suit are out to win the approval of someone. I had to wear formal western clothes when I first started to work as an engineer. I could have done my job in any dress. I have now the freedom to be as I want and I will."
It was true. Grandpa had done well in life, earned and provided for his family and he did not need to work or dress to please anyone anymore.
Grandpa liked to tell stories. He usually had more than one version of each of his stories and of even the most popular children's tales. They would start in the usual, same manner and then slowly, gradually and often twisted off into a completely different ending than what was previously known. Usually, there was something worth noting from the difference. Just like a story had its moral, the changed version usually had an equally worthy and different moral.
His children wanted him to tell his style of stories to their own kids - his grandchildren. It was a while before the little ones began to understand that Grandpa's little game. At first, the little ones protested at the unexpected turns in the story, which they had already heard before. Then gradually, they came to look forward to the 'different', 'grandpa-version' of the story too.
Everyone remembered the first time grandpa told the story of "The Hare and The Tortoise" to his three grand-kids - a girl aged three, a boy aged two and a baby girl less than an year old at a family gathering. They had already heard the story before from their parents and teachers. The first time they heard it from their Grandpa, he told it to the traditional plot. They were in splits as the grandpa pretended to be the 'hairy hare' and slept and started to snore loudly halfway into the race. The little crawling baby tortoise climbed all over him, tugged on his whiskers and beard and refused to crawl to the finish line until she was picked up by her mother and taken past it. She immediately crawled back to the surprised and awakened hare. All had a great laugh.
"I have heard this story in kindergarten," said the little girl.
"So, what is the moral of the story, sweetheart?"
"If you are like the tortoise, keep going without stopping. You can win" said the girl.
"That's right!"
The next night, the kids wanted to have the same story again.
"Ok, I will tell you a story of the hare and the tortoise. After I finish, you must tell me moral of the story. OK?" said Grandpa. The little ones nodded.
"Is it the same hare and the tortoise?" asked the little boy.
"Yes. Listen carefully though," said his father.
So, Grandpa began in his usual style. His grown-up children watched as the different story unfolded.
"There once was a hare and a tortoise. The hare could run very fast and the tortoise could only crawl slowly. The hare was quite proud and the tortoise resented him. So, he challenged him to a race.
They set off from the starting line. The hare took off really fast. The tortoise followed slowly," said Grandpa as he sped fast half the way from the starting line and stopped to see the little baby look at him smiling and eager to follow him as his mother held him back. The baby wriggled out of her grip and came at a blistering pace (she could crawl real fast, much faster than Grandpa.
Grandpa looked shocked and said,"Maybe she should be the hare. Perfect! Lets start the story again with her as the hare. I will be the tortoise. Get her baby's favourite toy on the finish line!"
So they restarted the race with the baby as the hare. Her mother waving her favourite toy at the finish line. Grandpa became the tortoise. He started narrating again in his booming voice, holding the baby.
"There once was a hare and a tortoise. The hare could run very fast and the tortoise could only crawl slowly. The hare was quite proud and the tortoise resented him. So, he challenged him to a race."
Grandpa released the baby. As soon as the baby was let go at the starting line, she sped without looking back straight to the finish line.
"They set off from the starting line. The hare took off really fast. The tortoise followed slowly. The hare did not even look back or stop. It sped straight to the finish line and won the race," said Grandpa crawling slowly.
"But! But the tortoise won the race in the story, Grandpa!" the little boy said looking surprised.
"That was another story, Son. This is a different story. Same hare and the tortoise, but a different day, different story," said Grandpa.
"So, what is the moral of this story?" asked the little boy's father.
"If you are fast and dont stop or waste your time you will win," said the little girl.
"That is right!"
"What about the poor tortoise?" asked the little boy.
"Well, perhaps he should race mostly with other tortoises. He cannot always win against hares. If the tortoise thinks all hares are foolish and will lose, he will be disappointed," said Grandpa.
Copyright (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2017
All rights reserved
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