Resolutions For Here And Hereafter

It’s the time for resolutions and I have been quite irritated with the resolutions of one particular tweet I follow. His first resolution was that he would blog regularly, that touched a raw nerve, not to mention that I have been guilt ridden by PB’s constant pleas. And what better way to start than to list out resolutions, some of which I have no intention of keeping, however it may rid me of my blogger’s block. So here go my resolutions for the year ahead; actually make that for the decade, I have no intention of indulging in this excruciating exercise every year. 

1.  I will continue to believe in God and his infinite mercy despite everything that goes in the name of organised religion. The intolerance, the caste wars, the desecration of holy places. What happened to – love thy brother, turn the other cheek? Well, the lines stay in the Holy Books, God is in the Heavens and all is well in the world.

2. I will take up the cause of load-shedding. Err, not my flab; I am not FAT, just pleasantly plump. I will do my bit to save on electricity, switch off lights and airconditioners even if they are in adjoining workstations. 

3. I will defend Bangalore as the best city in the country on several factors none of which will include infrastructure, tolerance, security and openness. I will make a song and dance about the biggest blessing we have – the climate.

4. I will learn another language – French probably. Cursing at traffic tyrants in Kannada or Tamil is not effective any more. I tried Malayalam but the BPO cabbie nearly caused an accident laughing at me.

5. I will not vote if there is no candidate I can support. Its all humbug, one vote less wont make any difference. The corrupt will still win.

6. I will keep my friends close and my foes in the closet. That’s where they belong.

7. I will heartily join my Mallu brethren to proclaim that we hail from the most literate state, I will vehemently deny that we are the most illiterate in progress.

8. I will be tolerant to all other genres of music including the organised cacophony that have no rhyme, rhythm or reason.  And if I hear them being played while I am engrossed in James Last or Paul Mariat, I will take the ultimate step in toleration – I will don my earphones.

9. Money is the root of all luxury and I will shamelessly hold on to every bit of it. That Lazyboy will surely make a good retirement present to myself.

10. I will ensure that my favorite brand Louis Philippe will not go bankrupt. I will buy all of their special editions, 10th, 10 1/2, 10 3/4 year editions. I will buy all their new ranges especially the ones that are landmark and so different from the previous ones – like the changes in the thickness of stripes or the minute changes in the checks. 

Well, with that, my dearies, here’s wishing you all the very best for the year ahead.

All is not lost, some of us still have a sense of humour.

Hampi – of Rains and Ruins

S and I had decided that we would ‘go somewhere’ come what may during the longish weekend. It was a toss between Badami and Hampi - Hampi’s recall as a more known desitination swung the decision. Shanti Guest House came out tops for boarding options, the fact that it was across the river had S already trying to recall where he had last seen his swimming trunks. Yours truly is not much of a water lover and the thought of sitting on one of those fragile coracles gave me the shivers, not to mention the reports of the Thekkady boat tragedy. I bravely smiled as Shanti Guest House was full up (fate was helping here), but S was not about to let his trucks go back dry. He then found favour with Mowgli Guest House, I could almost picture S in those Mowgli chaddis. So Mowgli it was.

The KSTRC Rajahamsa to Yalburga was just that a derelict KSRTC bus, we should not expect anything better from them. This was not starting well, there were snatches of conversation passing back and forth about how the rains were increasing by the day and that our route was under threat. S and I agreed we were not going to back out - visualising great temples and beautiful statues. And with these pleasant thoughts drifted off to sleep, when suddenly it blared out huskily…. zara zara behekta hai….tan badan, mai pyasi hu…mujhe bhar le apne bahon mei…It was the ring tone of our stone deaf neighbour….and then like those infernal tunes that get stuck in your head, it went on and on in mine.  To make matters worse the road or the National Highway turned out to be Notional….just an imaginary phenomenon. We landed in Hospet, bruised and creaking at every joint.

Out of nowhere came along this portly youth asking if we wanted to go to Hampi. I named him Mayavi  (the mallu version of Casper, the friendly ghost), he turned out to be a huge help. As we drove along in his autorickshaw called Akhil, S called Mowgli and asked about our rooms and was told that the place was marooned. The tide was turning, I wouldnt drown after all. All through the 14 kilometres Mayavi chattered along. Just as we turned between two huge boulders and into the town, he turned around a la Rajani style and said, ‘Welcome to Hampi Sir’. We couldn’t hold back and all of us laughed together. We drove through narrow lanes and found boarding at Gopi Guest House a small but clean place with a clean loo and clean sheets.

Elephant Stable

The Underground Temple

Mayavi took us around the Hampi, we started with the Krishna Temple with the ten avatars carved at the entrance, I liked the terrocota kind of statues that were on the roof of the temple. The sanctum sanctorum was dark and cool. A guide was saying that the Muslim invaders destroyed the statues, one of the tourists piped in, ‘that’s why we need Narendra Modi’ and there was a roar of approval all around. We then passed the Underground Temple, dont be misled by the name Mayavi said, it is just below the road level. The Band Stand and the Mosque came next. Lalit Mahal, the Queen’s Palace basement and the Elephant’s Stables were in the same grounds. I took out the tripod to get some good shoots and there was mayhem all around, the guards shouted, tripod use maad beda, tripod use mat karo, no tripod Sir, department permison!!!!   It was like I was taking out a telescopic rifle. Pride hurt that even a passing guide chipped in I slunk away with a chastened – ok …..dont yell. The Elephant Stables are rows of enclosures to house the palace pachyderms, the one in the centre is bigger than the rest and used to house a White Elephant (Information courtesy: Mayavi).

The Panchkarni was excavated as recently as the 1980’s, it is a stepped tank that has water flowing through a network or stone canals from a nearby lake. on the grounds are the King’s Palace Basement and the Mahanavami Dibba. This is an elevated structure that Krishnadevaraya built to celebrate his victory over Udayagiri. This was the platform from which the King would view celebrations during festivals. The carvings are of processions, dance, music and celebrations.

The Queen’s Bath in the vicinity was our last stop, we had to cut short our plans to visit the Vittala Temple that houses the famous Stone Chariot as the waters from the canals had marooned the temple from the mainland. On our way back to Hampi we passed lines of flattish rock that were on the edge of a mini canal. These were stone thalis hewn on the rock, very similar to the south Indian thali plates in hotels. This was were workers and soldiers were fed, the remnants were washed away into the flowing waters of the canal. Very ingenius.

The next day we rented out a bike to go to Vittala Temple which is about 15 kms away from Hampi. This was the best temple we saw during our visit. The Stone Chariot is brilliant. We also saw the King’s Balance or the Thulabharam which was used to weigh the king with equal measures of precious metals which were given away to the citizens. I saw figures etched on the floor of the balance of people paying obeisance to the king. By then it began raining and we had to return, braving rains, goats and large puddles of water. We left early for Hospet so that we could see the Tungabhadra dam, it was disconcerting to see the fury of the river in spate lashing against the walls spraying brown water. There were other minor distractions like a deer park, an apology for an aviary and a sad musical fountain around the dam.   

As he dropped us off at the bus stop Mayavi requested us to recommend him to any of our friends visiting Hampi. S asked him his name and it was Krishna….was I surprised? Not really….

It was a Volvo on the way back and KSRTC redeemed some favour again.

Things to note

Travel - an auto is the best way to get around here especially if you are staying in one of the guest houses in the bylanes. Cars will have to be parked on the main roads.

Stay – if one doesnt mind walking through messy bylanes and staying in 10×10 rooms the guest houses are a good option. The guest houses across the river apparently fall under Gangavati so liquor is allowed there. The other option will be to stay in Hospet and make trips to Hampi, it is only about 14 kms.

Food - Pretty decent and clean, there are a lot of rooftop restaurants. They are pretty basic and not necessarily well kept. Almost all the eateries have Indian, Chinese, Tibetian, Continental cuisines listed out. There were non vegetarian dishes also mentioned, however other than eggs you will get none. We ate at Chillout, Gopi’s and Shanti and all of them offered decent fare, however Shanti was marginally better than the others. One place you have to go to is the Mango Tree Restaurant, which is about 5 minutes walk along the river’s edge. The stone benches and tables overlooking the river and serving some great food. Alcohol is not served in any of the hotels.

Attire  - cotton clothes as it gets pretty humid. ‘Respectable clothes’ are expected.

Attitude - an appreciation and a sense for history. At end  of it you cannot help but wonder how beautiful the city would have been in its prime. 

Doubts and Doubting Thomases

I have had a few people asking why I took a break from blogging and urging me to resume, believe you me it feels good to know people are concerned. So Padma, Poorani and others thank you for the concern and encouragement. My break was a result of a personal loss, of which I wont say much, because I believe loss is private and should be dealt with alone. And as is wont in difficult times one’s beliefs and faith are tested. It took me to the various times in the past when several of my traditional beliefs where put through the test.

I remember the movie The Last Temptation of Christ and the furore it created. I was young and wondered  what was the big deal about Jesus having feelings for Mary Magdalene or him having doubts about his last suffering. Did it change my views? No, I was used to reading about God’s that were really human – Krishna, Arjuna, Rama and all my other heroes from Amar Chitra Katha. For me it was fine for God or Demigod to have normal feelings. There were other controversies like the Turin Shroud, remnants of Noah’s Ark which again were matters of grave discussion.

And then came Dan Brown and the Da Vinci Code that threatened to shake the foundations of Christendom. The Vatican was up in arms, and so were a few other factions. Did it change my beliefs? No. What if Christ loved Mary, what if he had a child? Does it take away anything from his teachings? absolutely not. It however got me thinking, was there truth in some parts of the novel? Was it all a hushed up by the church? But why? Jeffery Archer tried to stir up some controversy with the Gospel According to Judas, at best it was like a short story written by a high school student.

Recently there have been discussions about St. Thomas and his journey to India. Some eminent historians aver that he didn’t come to India and that it is an elaborate make believe story. They say there are no records, however there is a belief that the Portugese wiped out all evidence. Does historical evidence really matter in matters of faith? Whether Thomas came to India or not, Syrian Christians will still be Christians…will that make me less Christian? Do my values change because Thomas didn’t visit India? No….

Going Over to Down Under

It begins on the Quantas flight. The Flight Attendants can barely conceal their impatience with the browns. They attend to calls with a dismissive, ‘Yes? Sir. You make a request and they will purposely delay it while they go about attending to everyone else. If you are on a stop over flight, the ground staff will do a repeat. I have watched the Quantas rep whispering to the Check-in Staff at Bangkok Airport, ‘Check his passport’, an honour again reserved for the brownies. You land in Sydney and they will pick you out from the crowd and guide you to the customs hall and ask you to open your luggage. You stand there hoping you haven’t put anything in by mistake, while the burly Aussies wear gloves to go through your stuff and you hope the lady behind you doesn’t notice him holding up and shaking out your underwear. (I certainly wouldn’t hide illegal stuff in that.) Standard procedure? yes, but again targetted at the browns. Atleast on two occasions I was with a colleague from Singapore and both times he went through.  

I went to Starcity, a well known casino in Sydney with my Indian colleagues and we were in for some lip service there as well. J was standing in line to cash his chips when this Aussie behind told him, ‘Its an honor for you to stand next to me, you brown d***’.  J paid back in kind with something about origins. The next instance came soon after, while we waited for a cab. We saw this group of Aussie youth hail down a cab and then screaming, ‘Why cant you go, you f****** b****?’ We got into the same cab and it was this middle aged Lebanese lady who was shivering and told us that she wanted to go home as it was close to midnight and the boys wanted to go in the opposite direction. They didn’t stop at the yelling, they took another cab, overtook us and stopped at the next signal and shouted obscenities while gesturing with their fingers.  The next was at the Sydney Railway Station while we tried to get out through the turnstile, an Aussie pushed D and went ahead. 

I have always been intimidated while in Australia, there is an uneasiness you feel and you are constantly on guard. However, my Aussie colleagues are great people. They have always been warm, protective and very helpful.   

As for fellow Indian travellers, the less said the better. They are bad visitors, period. They will summon the Flight Attendants for the flimsiest of reasons. I have seen guys asking for drinks well past serving time, they hoard miniature whisky bottles in their pockets. As soon as the ‘Fasten Seat-belt’ sign is off they gather around a particular seat and talk loudly while blocking the passage. Yelling in Hindi across the aisle is common, so is talking loudly while co-passengers try to catch a wink.  Get off the plane and they will push you to get ahead, jump queues, litter the place. And if you see Indians in a shop, flee. They will bargain on stuff that have fixed prices with liberal doses of theatrics thrown in. I have been to shops where they have said they wont sell to me, because ‘Indians only haggle’.

My sympathies go out for the students of racial attacks in Melbourne but I think it is time we had a good look at ourselves. We need cultural sensitization sessions for visitors, be it tourists, students, or professionals. I remember that during the first wave of on-site projects, engineers had to go through a session on sensitization – please use deos, wash the oil off your hair, do not talk with your mouth full, say please and thank you…. 

This is the era of globalisation and the global village, we need each other. Let’s learn to live and let live.

Compulsory Confessions

It is Passion Week again and this is the season we Syrian Orthodox Christians really let go – short of crucifixon we do everything possible to purge ourselves and to partake of the tribulations of Christ. And I am fine with the Lent (letting go of beef and beer for 50 days is not the easiest thing for a true blue mallu), attending mass at 4am for Passover and Easter (its not easy to doze off leaning against your dozing neighbour with bells clanging), all that kneeling (by the time the week is over you can do an Appu Raja with ease). I am willing to even take on self flagellation, the one thing I cant take is the compulsory confession.  It is so compulsory that we have to sign a register after the confession. Can you beat that?

For the uninitiated it is mandatory for us to confess before we partake of communion. What’s the big deal, you ask?

How would you like to bare your innermost secrets to a man you meet practically every week if not more? No go I say. I hated bumping into him after Passion Week trying to decipher if he remembers all I told him.  The most trying time is when you passed him during offeratory and he looked at you and your friends nudged you and whispered, ’see? he remembers’.  

And so I created this messaging strategy (I should have zeroed in on communication back then and not wasted my time on other career options). It was pretty simple but quite effective. I classified sins into broad categories and so a standard confession would go like this -

Achen (thats what we call our priests) – Since your last confession do you have  anything to confess? If you do please say so in the presence of the Lord.

(Sure, I mean what a question!!! My last confession was a year ago.) 

Me – Yes Acha, I have lied on occasion. (I always hoped the guy before me had more lurid stuff to confess, besides it is better to steadily increase the heat.) 

Achen – Hmm? (In a tone, that says you can do better, go on.)

Me – I have not been regular in my prayers and at times have missed Sunday mass. (Another safe one. I mean, I can’t be the only one doing that)

Achen – Hmmm? (Go on, you are warming up.)

Me – I have been rude and hurt people (that’s such a motherhood statement.)

Achen – Hmmmm? (getting a little irritated)

Me – I have had bad thoughts (I almost can see him licking his lips)

Achen – Hmmmmmmm? (now we are getting there)

Achen – Hmmmmmmmmm? (come on son, easy does it, we are almost there)

Achen – HMMMMMMMMMMM???? (what???? that’s all???? you cheapo!!!!)

With that he grudgingly gives advice,  counsels and blesses me. All’s well that end’s well   

Listen, I have seen movies where a character confesses to a priest about a crime he is about to commit and the priest spends the entire night praying and pacing the floor debating whether he should warn the authorities. After all he cannot reveal what is said to him in secret.  

Why put the dear old padre through such torment?

Barking Dogs and Mewing Tigers

After the White Tiger, it is the Slumdog. If there was TV in 1945, the Independence Day would not have got as much viewership. Man, the craze was just nauseating especially Anil Kapoor’s antics at the BAFTA, definitely deserves an Oscar for ’stand up comedy’.

Sea of Poppies  lost out to White Tiger, arguably a much better book in terms of content.  And now Slumdog, when Taare Zameen Par was a more striking movie. My angst is about less deserving books and films getting the glory. (BTW I think that this is one of Rahman’s less impressive scores.) Is there more than meets the eye? Has playing out a formula taken over artistic expression? I have said this before, there is no doubt that White Tiger was a ‘made for Booker’ novel. I haven’t seen Slum Dog but the rushes show the same settings – slums and slime. Come to think about it, what is it about India’s slums and poverty that interests the West so much? No, I am not being defensive at all. 

  The good thing is that the nation got a reprieve from Arnab Goswami and Rahul Kanwal  ranting about Taliban ’swat’ting Zardari in the valley. Though I am sure Muthalik must be hating Boyle for spoiling his ’thong and dance’.

Letter to Jane Goodall

Dear Ms Goodall,

We have heard about you from our cousins in Africa.  We are members of the long forgotten Vaanar Sena, our name is etched in Indian history for our efforts in the epic Ram – Ravan Battles thousands of years ago. Since then we have lived a quiet life in the jungles and the fringes of Indian cities. You will be wondering why we are trying to communicate with you now. We have some startling news for you – Darwin was wrong.   

We silently accepted the Theory of Evolution as we had no way to communicate with homo sapiens. (Those experiments of your white-coated researchers are a big joke amongst us. Enticing us with pieces of fruit while we solved childish puzzles…..hahaha….what could be lemur than that?) We always believed, we are the superior race but we lost out on the huge public relations campaigns that you humans carried out. But today we are on the threshold of  proving everyone wrong and it is but fitting that this discovery comes out of India. (You may recall that India also discovered the value of zero – in real terms a zero is emptiness but this emptiness has significant importance – look at most Indian politicians).

Sorry for the digression, where were we? Ahh… we were talking about Darwin and his gibbonish. His theory said as a species evolves it modifies and betters itself to be successful in its survival. Therefore you all accepted that humans evolved from monkeys and therefore you are a higher race but we have been around langur. Darwin did not foresee devolution as a possibility. The human form seems to be the inflexion point in evolution and now it is regressing.

You ask how is that possible? We are seeing signs of it in South and West India. Young humans are taking on our habits and customs. They are adapting and enforcing the laws of the jungle in cities. They roam around in batches armed with sticks and stones attacking people especially the helpless, they destroy things around. Like our young they attack females they cant court and object to inter species courting. They have war cries very similar to kreegah, bundolo…..Fugaaaa, bhand karo….. At the rate they are going humans in Bangalore will need to have valid rhesuns to sip a cup of capuchino.

We look to you to evangelise this revolutionary discovery with the rest of the world.

Signed,

Secretary, Vaanar Sena, Big Banyan Tree, Bangalore

The Day After

Everyone is patting the Government for its ’swift’ action on the Satyam case. Well, in our country time is a relative phenomenon, however, given past instances this defintely was way more faster than the norm. But is there more to this? Look at the math – 53,000 employees, multiply that by 3 (an average family) add shareholders, add the Raju community – enough votes for a sure shot win at the hustings. Besides the fact that several politicians are running scared. The positive is that the earlier board was disbanded, it anyway did not have much to stake in terms of credibility

I was looking at the various players post the dubious disclosure.

- Mynampati the interim CEO was the main player behind the World bank Fiasco. And today’s papers say that he was paid more than the Rajus and the Board put together, a whopping 3.5 crores annually. It is but logical that he was a Raju man. The papers say he is likely to be arrested soon alongwith 3o others who are likely abettors.

-  The much vaunted board with luminaries will also come under the scanner.  They have already fled the ship and have not owned up to lapses from their eminences. To say they believed the auditors and took everything at face value is not enough to save it.  

-  The employees live in fear and shame. At a time when the industry needs to support them, we have the ‘current flavour of the season’ Infosys stating they are tainted and that they wouldn’t hire them. So much for being responsible leaders of the sunrise industry that got them where they are.

- The new Board carries hope, with names like Deepak Parekh and Kiran Karnik the Government has scored a winner. By the way what does Achuthan look like? Every newspaper worth its salt has pictures of both Karnik and Parekh.  

Have you also wondered why no other company other than Infosys has been hogging the limelight? Between Mohandas Pai and NRN they have got more sound bytes from the Satyam fiasco than any of their own making. The most ridiculous sight was a leading luminary like Swaminthan Aiyer and comical Arnab Goswami pleading, in suitably self deprecating tones, with NRN to take over Satyam. It was absolutely comical and preposterous.  And NRN droned on, “Well…at Infosys, we…..blah blah”.

Satyam eva Mayate

What an irony that a company with a name like this did what they did. The implications and the fallout of this for the much vaunted Indian IT industry is massive. Not only the IT industry but Corporate India as a whole. And the timing couldn’t have been worse. There is the anti outsourcing lobby rallying together in the US, one the key issues in the Obama campaign, and then the recession that has just about hitting the world. This was the time when global companies would have been forced to outsource to India to manage costs and profitability.  As early as 2004, the American media had reported that it was not only dreaded terrorist Osama whom the Americans were afraid of, but Ramalinga Raju was a feared man too as millions of jobs were being outsourced to Indian companies like Satyam. Just the right time for the nay sayers to chuckle, I told you so.

The letter by Ramalinga Raju conceals more than it reveals.

• 1. The Balance Sheet carries as of September 30, 2008,
  a) Inflated (non-existent) cash and bank balances of Rs 5,040 crore (as against Rs 5,361 crore reflected in the books);
  b) An accrued interest of Rs 376 crore, which is non-existent
  c) An understated liability of Rs 1,230 crore on account of funds arranged by me; d) An overstated debtors’ position of Rs 490 crore (as against Rs 2,651 reflected in the books);
  2.  For the September quarter(Q2) we reported a revenue of Rs 2,700 crore and an operating margin of Rs 649 crore(24 per cent of revenue) as against the actual revenues of Rs 2,112 crore and an actual operating margin of Rs 61 crore (3 per cent of revenues). This has resulted in artificial cash and bank balances going up by Rs 588 crore in Q2 alone.
  Can you fathom what was the extent of fraud over here? There are three levels of audit in any listed company and how this passed across these levels and over so many years is unimaginable.

• He says neither he nor the MD ‘took even one rupee/dollar from the company and have not benefitted in financial terms on account of the inflated results’. Who is he kidding?

• It lists 17 senior executives and business leaders who he says were ‘unaware of the real situation against the books of accounts’. The most conspicuous name is that of the CFO. Is Raju admitting that the CFO did play a role, which is clear as day.

Imagine the plight of the 53,000 employees, where do they go from here? What about the auditors will there be action taken on them?  Will the Rajus be treated differently from the regular accused? Or will they accorded privileges because they are blue collared? 

We have always had perception issues in global markets and this will strengthen it. From exporting dried papaya seeds along with pepper, to passing off polished ordinary stone as granite  our businessmen have done it all. My view is that there is atleast one more ‘IT bellwether’  that has skeletons in the cupboard. They are sickeningly sterile. It is just a matter of time. 

I like the one clever line in the letter, “It was like riding a tiger, not knowing how to get off without being eaten’. How about some self sacrifice? One for over a million IT fellow cyber coolies.

Reny And His Children

This year we decided to move away from the usual year end Christmas celebrations and do something more meaningful. We decided to revisit Precious Children’s Home like we did about two years ago. This is a charitable project under the aegis of Prison Fellowship. Prison Fellowship focuses on the rehabilitation of released prisoners besides helping victims of crime. Precious Children’s Home is targetted at children of prisoners, victims of crime and abandoned children and is run by Reny George.

Reny’s past is a story that most malayalis especially those from Central Travancore are well aware of. There was even a movie made that was loosely based on this terrible tale starring Mohan Lal. I remember passing by Karikeneth Villa near Tiruvalla and peering into the house and recalling the story. The house is some distance away from the road and is surrounded by big dark trees, it had that eerie aura around it.  Most often someone in the vehicle would say, “That is Karikeneth Villa, you remember Madrasille Mon?”

The story goes that Reny was studying in Chennai (Madras then) and got into bad company, drugs and alcohol.  His friends and he came to visit his uncle and aunt, the owners of Karikeneth Villa. Reny demanded money to buy drugs and there was an argument which turned fatal for the issueless couple. Reny murdered his uncle and aunt and fled the scene. The police were at a loss in identifying the killers as the couple kept to themselves and did not have ties with neighbours. The case dragged on and it was a chance remark by one of the maids that got the police in the hunt. The maid said that the aunt had mentioned that Madrasille Mon (literally tanslated – son from Madras) would be visiting the next day.  Reny was arrested alongwith his friends and was sentenced to prison. (This was one of the versions I had heard as a child). While in prison Reny turned to Christianity and started working for the welfare of prisoners. Post his release Reny set up the Precious Children’s Home.

I remember meeting Reny two years ago during our first visit. I had mixed emotions when I saw him, I did not know what to expect. The stories were larger than life, in my mind I had this image of a scary man with scars and frightening looks. I was nervous and a little apprehensive as he walked towards me and introduced himself. A very pleasant man with an infectious smile his demeanour put me at ease. We talked about his work with children, the challenges he faced and his plans for the Home. After a while he asked, “Aren’t you from Kerala?” I replied that my parents are from Kerala and that I spent most of my life outside Kerala. He then said, “Haven’t you heard my story?”  I nodded nervously and murmered, “Yes”. He then said that there was a lot of half truths floating around and that he was writing his autobiography for the world to read.

Meeting him this time around was like meeting an old friend. He remembered our last visit, we talked a lot. I asked him about his book, he said that he was sewing up the last chapter. I queried him about how his plans for the Home had progressed. He pointed to a young lad and said proudly, “That boy passed out of this Home and now has a steady job.” He looked at his wards as they sang a song for us and told me, “I am sure there is a future Abdul Kalam or a Mother Theresa in that lot of children. My job is to set them in the right path.”

As we drove away that evening, I kept thinking about the Reny’s incredible story and his selfless work. But does that balance out his transgression? Well, who am I to judge him?

The last time I passed Karikeneth Villa almost a year ago, the house had been repainted and the board had been changed. It looked bright and welcoming.