No one in my family seems to know when this photo was taken. But it has been lying in a file at our office for almost 3 decades now. It must be from the early 80′s. This was shot at one of the functions of the Deenabandhu Ashram in Walajapet.
My Grandfather Mr. A.N. Govindasamy Nadar is seen standing in the centre and we have the former president of India Mr. R. Venkatraman to his right and he seems to be checking the time. The gentleman behind the mike was the one who was managing Deenabandhu Ashram at that time. I think his name is A. Narasimha Iyer.
If anyone has more information about the people in this photo, please feel free to leave a comment below.
Azhagar Koil at Sunset
Alagar Koil was the place where I had my hair tonsured for the first time in my life. I don’t remember going back to the temple since then. So recently I decided to go visit Kallalagar last week.
Alagar Koil is aptly named. It is located at the base of the Alagar Hills. The Alagar Hills is truly a paradise on earth. A pristine environment with an awesome green cover. The place is very beautiful. There is a road almost to the top of the hill. The road ends on the top at a spring called the Nubura Ganga about 4kms from the base. At about 3.5kms from the base is a beautiful Murugan Temple called Pazhamudhircholai. This is one of the Aarupadai veedu (6 abodes) of Lord Murugan.
Azhagar Koil at Sunset
Azhagar Koil – Main Entrance
A view from Nubura Gangai
A Mile Stone – Nubura Theertham
Nubura Gangai Theertham
A view from the inside
The place sure did bring back some lovely memories from the past.
The Fiat 500C Coupé was launched in 1950 and was quite a popular car in Europe.
This photo was shot in 2010 at a Heritage Car Rally in Chennai.
The Thirumalai Naicker Mahal a palace built by Thirumalai Naicker the Ruler of Madurai in the year 1636. This Palace has been built combining designs from Dravidian and Islamic Architecture. This beautiful and imposing structure is a must see in Madurai.
The Coconut Tree Climber used to be a common sight even in Chennai some 20 years back. We hardly see these folks in Chennai these days.
Have any of you noticed these guys anywhere lately?
The Amba Vilas more popularly known as the Mysore Palace was completed in the year 1912 by the famous British Architect Henry Irwin. The Architectural Style is Indo-Saracenic. This palace was the official residence of the Wodeyars.
The Wodeyars don’t rule Mysore anymore. But their Palaces and their Grandeur are celebrated every year during Dussera.
Hotel Dasaprakash a landmark building on Poonamallee High Road.
This Photo was shot in February 2010 sometime before the buiding was torn down to give way to The Prince Courtyard a Luxury Residential Complex.
The Butter dosa here was famous. They would lay the butter on a small plantain leaf fold it and slide it inside your dosa. The smells were intoxicating.
Dasaprakash Ice Creams were the best in the days gone by.
I love to help people correct their faulty ways. When employees are at fault I am definitely there to first give them an earful and then I move on to helping them correct their faulty ways.
But to an employee it is usually the negative which is the highlight of the entire conversation. This causes them to dread coming to work, being indifferent and these people work with fear. The problem with fear is their confidence goes down and they tend to make more mistakes.
Who among us does not make mistakes? We all do. But our hierarchy in the organization defines how much we can get away with it. A employee accessing Social Media at work is more likely to get fired than his boss accessing Social Media at work.
Show the person the right way to do things. Don’t approach the right by showing them the wrong.
Thanks to this post in the Vedantic Wednesday Series by my friend Raj K Shankar.
I was reading this post a while back and I decided to put down my thoughts on being fair-skinned right here. Yes… Keep Reading…
The problem with Indians wanting to be fair skinned is because of the English Language.
When the British ruled India they had a certain sense of righteousness which they tried to keep up and teach similar values to the Indians. Now for example when they wanted to buy cloth from an Indian merchant they would go visit the shop or sometimes even have the wares brought by the merchant to their door step. But just like how any out of towner is taken for a ride by the Chennai Auto-Guys these Merchants would quote exorbitant prices to the Britishers. Now these folks from England were always warned about the Indian Pricing system even before they had left England for India. So when they heard such exorbitant prices being quoted they would say “Please be fair.”
Now truth be told Indian merchants had no knowledge of English and so after the deal was done they would go visit the Dubaash (A person who worked for the Raj and knows Two Languages. Dho Baasha) to find out what fair means and the dubaash with all his wordly knowledge would say Fair means to be fair skinned. So the merchants would assume that the english sahib or memsahib did not buy his goods because they were not fair skinned. That was the day an Indian came up with an idea for a fairness cream.
Ok. that was just a story. But you get the point, right?
And those of you dark people who think that God has punished you by making you dark and that all your friends make fun of your skin color and you regret being dark then you people should get yourself dipped in molten White Wax.
The same thing Aerosmith sing in his song…
“If you can judge a wise man by the color of his skin then mister, you’re a better man than I”
Fair is good, Black is good infact everything is good. It is the thoughts which lack goodness. You might want to get some goodness in there.
I was at the Indiblogger meet in Chennai on Sunday, May 26th, 2013 and I realized that there is a campaign for telling people that dark is beautiful. I assume that as mankind progresses we would need a campaign to tell us that we are humans.
I love this song called Desert Rose and this picture reminds me of that song.
This is the flower of a cactus plant from my garden.
She was in her usual place. The place in her head that she turned to when the world around her seemed to spin out of control. Dark, well oiled hair pulled back framed her dark face.
Kamini always wondered why the world around her acted so different. Was it because of her dark skin or the big round eyes which drooped? Her husband spoke about how pretty she was. But she refused to believe his words. He was a loser who still claimed that he loved her so he could pleasure himself in her. She hated him. The nerve of that bastard to go and talk about their intimate moments with his mother. She had considered leaving him and going back to her parents. But then a woman separated from her husband living in her parents house was not something her father would support. She would be far worse off at her parents than she was here with her husband. She gazed back into her past…
Her parents had arranged for her wedding with Shankzzz. He seemed like a nice guy though he was almost a year younger than her. She was hardly given anytime to decide if she wanted to work or study some more or just be home for a while. It was as if she was a burden for her parents. They said they loved her but she knew better. Her mom would persuade her dad to get her married off quickly. Her dad would just agree and act on what her mom said.
She wondered if her dad had always been like that. She remembered all the fun times they had when she was little. He used to call her his little princess but he had changed ever since her body changed. Her mother did not talk to her about the birds and the bees. She was very crude with her explanation of what went in where.
At 13 she was considered a big girl. She was growing to be tall and dark like her father. Her parents kept telling her how hard it would be to find a boy from their caste. Shankzz was who they decided their daughter would marry.
Someone was knocking on her bedroom door. She ran to open it. It was her mother-in-law. Mala, Shankzzz’s mother had come to talk to her about how much she wanted grand children and why Kamini was not making any. She hated it when Mala came to the bedroom she shared with Shankzzz and talk about her having failed to produce a grandchild even after a year of marriage. She knew the speech and had tuned out to think of Sid.
Sid, her guy in college. They would hangout together all the time. She understood the meaning of passion after all the time they spent. She had never known such feelings and emotions before. But she always knew that they would never get married and she had told him that. One New Year’s Eve she had told her parents she was going to a party with some friends from college and had ended up in a car with Sid and three of his friends. They had driven to a beach house near Mahabalipuram and that was the day she had experienced a multitude of pleasures. Heroin, multiple orgasms and multiple partners. She did not resist and she loved knowing that men and women desired her. That was the day she would never forget in her life.
2 months later she found out that she was pregnant and she could not even figure out who the father was. She had told Sid about the whole situation and he had been very supportive in arranging for an abortion. The only problem was that the doctor was a quack and he had been crude while performing the procedure. This had resulted in an infection and she had lost the ability to bear children. No one knew about this except for Sid.
Shankzzz refused to make any doctor visits with her and she was fine as long as no one figured this out. She had been young and reckless. Her priorities in life had been different and most of all no one talked to her about her body. Not her mother, not her teachers.NO ONE… But it was too late to blame anyone now. She did not mind anymore.
From our garden. Such beauty sometimes makes me wonder how we use the word beautiful to describe something. But what if somewhere this is ugly?