Athanda Ithanda Kumbhakarnan Naan Thaan Da

I’ve become something of a Kumbhakarna these days. I dare not count the hours that I’ve spent sleeping in the past week. Sleep, pee, shit, eat, sleep, pee, check email, eat, go online, pee, read, pee, sleep. That’s become the daily routine. Makes me feel as if I’m little else than stomach and testicles. Shit! You know, that’s why I’m writing this and forcing myself to revive my moribund blog.

Stomach and testicles. That’s how a zamindar in Bengal described his bitterly poor tenants to an English officer. Although from the insights that one gets into the debauched lives of the zamindars of late colonial Bengal, one might say of our illustrious zamindar friend and his ilk that they were probably all testicles, and more testicles. Thanks to Cornwallis, perhaps? Sorry, I’m talking about a book. A humdinger of a book, actually. A Princely Impostor? is its title. It’s a superb story, grippingly recounted. Was the Bhawal sannyasi really Ramendra Narayan Roy? What really happened in Darjeeling? Almost exactly a century later, the gaps remain awning gaps. That’s the beauty of the narrative. And boy, what an end! Fact, as they say, is stranger than fiction. Excellent fodder for a movie. (Maybe I should get in touch with Sugata of New Theatres Limited.) I’m glad I bought the book. Fittingly, in Calcutta. A toast to the Bhawal estate. Another to Partha Chatterjee. Yet another to Patnaik, from whose bookshelf I first picked up the book - out of sheer curiosity. And of course, one to Pannalal Basu, subordinate judge of Dacca district. He taught philosophy at St. Stephen’s College before joining the judicial service. What a courageous judgement it was for a lower court judge!

It’s been funny weather out here in Coimbatore. For the last ten days. Cloudy and rainy. Today it rained like it was monsoon. I got drenched on the scooter and stopped at the Ayyappa temple to take shelter. It was fun to watch the Asokapuram schoolkids. They were playing in uniform when it started raining. They were having the time of their lives. Some were dancing. Some playing catch in the rain. We were also like them once. What wouldn’t I give to be their age and play cricket on the ground again!

Dataone broadband is the latest saga to hit my life. I wanted a new phone line with a broadband connection. The line will be given in two-three days, I was told. And that the broadband connection would be ready in a month’s time. Two weeks passed. No sign of the lineman. I went to the Thudiyalur telephone exchange. The lineman turned up. He checked. “The box is full. No capacity for a new line”, he declared. Back I went to the exchange. Today. The AE is a lady. Seems quite prompt. But why do I have to present myself in person for things to move? Anyway. Would you like to take a wireless phone instead, she asked. You get a speed of 144 kbps. Unlimited downloads. All for a monthly bill of Rs. 250/-. Damn it, something is better than nothing, I thought. Filled up the form. Come back on Saturday, she said. Between 11 and 12. Hopefully then, Saturday should mark the end of the dial-up. And of 3500-rupee phone bills. Will let you know. In another song of sixpence.