Thursday, March 28, 2024

Sakarmaa, the sweet mother who lost touch with her son for 53 years

All she could do was hug and cry

"Sakarmaa, my grandma thought that her family had vanished over time and she was all alone in this world." - Vijay Hariyani.

*"Sakar" means sugar, or sweet; and "maa" is mother, hence the translation to sweet mother.

And then came a completely unexpected ray of hope when Vijay landed at her doorstep one fine day, after 53 years, introducing himself as her grandson. Viola!! It was a speechless moment flooded with overwhelming joy that cannot be explained in words. All she could was hug him tight, cry and embrace the gratitude of having met him.

With Uncle Vijay at Paul Cafe (Dubai), Sep 2023.
Our chats were always bubbly and cheerful!

The sugar factory 

Back in 1968 (ref: I was only 3 years old then!!), Uncle Vijay toiled amidst the rhythmic hum of machinery at the sugar factory in Maharashtra. The air was thick with the sweet scent of molasses, clinging to his skin like memories etched into the very fabric of time. Each granule of sugar held a secret—a whisper of sweat, determination, and dreams.

His work at the sugar factory in Maharashtra was enjoyable but hectic. As a young man, he was in the early part of his career with a long journey ahead. Ambition and life goals were alive in his mind. 

Ponderings along the corridors of the sweet sugar factory, "Would I build a legacy? Would I taste the nectar of achievement? Or would life, capricious as the monsoon rains, sweep me into unexpected currents?"

The circle called "family"

His sisters and brothers, the network of family close to his heart like a constellation of bonds, were his compass. Their laughter echoed through the narrow alleys of memory ... their teasing, their shared secrets, their unwavering loyalty. They were the safety net woven from threads of shared childhood, catching him when he stumbled, celebrating his victories with raucous joy. Their love was the softest cushion against life’s jagged edges.

Meanwhile, his dad, Parmanand Hariyani (popularly known as Kakhu Bha), was his "senior mentor" who was known to have grown up with his uncle due to the early demise of his father. He was a man of few words but infinite wisdom. His eyes held stories of resilience, of survival. The old man’s gnarled hands would rest on his shoulders, imparting silent blessings. “Forge ahead,” those eyes seemed to say. “Learn from my stumbles, but find your own path.”

Grandpa and Grandma whom he has never met 

Uncle Vijay has never seen his grandpa or grandma. The "grandpa pictures" in his mind are based on the stories shared by his dad, some bits of documents that were in the house and some colourful exaggerations of his creative mind. Grandpa, Virji Hariyani, was said to be a wealthy businessman of his times with an established business as a shipping merchant in Maharashtra. Virji must have been the sturdy man with a bushy moustache giving orders to his servants with a dancing tobacco pipe balancing at the side of his lips. 

His success story as a businessman was reflected in the respect he earned in the community and the list of assets in the form of land, houses and other properties known to have been in his possession. Virji was one of the traditionalists who trusted God and the people close to him to take care of the truth and did not document his possessions well. He was a man of his word, and he expected the world to be the same.

The twist of fate and the positions of planets had it that Virji caught pneumonia while living a rushed business life. As the business was flourishing, so was his pneumonia. He soon succumbed to his illness and had to return home to be cared for by his wife, the long-lost grandma whom Uncle Vijay traced to Kutch!

As Virji dwindled into silence and passed away, the empire crumbled into an untraceable list of possessions. Grandma could not claim the inherited wealth or the shares of his business as she did not have the necessary "papers" to do so. It may be worth saying that the story of where the wealth went is best left unspoken.

Virji's business was the operations of cargo vessels on short sea routes from India to the nearby countries. His vessels carried cargo between India and various Middle East ports of that time. Interestingly, his great-grandchild Rahul Hariyani and I worked alongside in a shipping company in Dubai years later in 2017. Had Virji's business survived his illness, the family would now be a credible competition to Maersk and Wan Hai :-) ... and Rahul would have been the shareholding CFO! A small twist could have changed history altogether!

The worked at the sugar factory

One sweltering afternoon, in the sun-drenched corridors of the sugar factory, where molasses clung to the air like forgotten dreams, he stumbled upon a fellow worker, a woman with eyes like monsoon clouds. She squinted at him, as if peering through the haze of years. 

“You are Hariyani, you have your Grandma, Sakarmaa” she whispered, “She lives in Kutch.” The words hung in the air, laden with memories. Uncle Vijay leaned closer, hungering for the past. “You know her?” he asked, his heart a compass seeking direction.

Upon further conversation, he realised that the lady knew his Grandma lived in Kutch. He remembered that Grandma left the village after the death of Grandpa. Grandma was devastated as she lost all belongings including her son, Uncle Vijay's dad, who was taken under the care of one of the Uncles. The uncle cared well and took care of his dad, hence Uncle Vijay speaks of his Uncle(s) with a sense of gratitude.

The mission to trace Grandma

The news of his Grandma living in Kutch was like a sudden rain on desert sand, giving life to a thousand seeds of curiosity buried for years. Uncle Vijay quickly hatched a plan to find Grandma and arrange for her to meet her long-lost son, his dad.

A letter was written and sent to the factory worker lady's brother who was in Kutch. The letter narrated the brief history and enough information for the recipient to connect to the "old lady living in a shack". After two attempts, the lady's brother replied stating that there was such a person and provided the address.

Now the excitement has grown into enthusiasm. Uncle Vijay could feel the emotions of finally meeting his Grandma and the excitement of getting his dad to meet his mother whom he had not seen for decades. 

Sometimes the gap of not getting a reply to his letters created emptiness and the anticipation was difficult to bear. Then one fine day he received a reply from a girl who works for the local newspaper vendor stating that Grandma's health is not great and asking Uncle Vijay to make a visit soon. It was known now that Grandma was doing menial work at the newspaper vendor's shop to support herself and her simple lifestyle.

The news about Grandma's health meant that the mission needed to be accelerated. Uncle Vijay went by train from Uttar Pradesh to Kutch, and arriving in the early morning hours, walked to town and reached the newspaper vendor's shop. Having inquired, he discovered the place where Grandma lives and by daybreak found himself knocking on the door of the girl who replied to his letters. Upon seeing Uncle Vijay the girl jumped in excitement and ran into the shack where Sakarmaa, lives and shook her up to announce that her grandson was at the door.

The speechless hug

Grandma could not believe her eyes, nor believe the fact that her grandson was actually in front of her. All she could do was hug Uncle Vijay and weep in silence while processing the crazy video of the past running through her mind. She was having an avalanche of memories and a burst of emotion for having reconnected to her family of the third generation after losing touch for so many decades.

After regaining her composure she could see the face of Uncle Vijay, examine his looks and admire how her grandson has grown from baby to this grown man without her having seen him thus long. Slowly they started conversing and sharing notes about each other. It took a whole day to reach a balance between emotion and reality. 

Uncle Vijay began by asking his Grandma to consider joining him on his journey back to Uttar Pradesh. What he meant was to pack her meagre belongings and "migrate" to Uttar Pradesh with him for good. Grandma was faced with a dilemma and disagreed with his plan! Her flying emotions have now made their circles and finally landed on the reality of her being the estranged wife of Virji Hariyani who was thrown out of the family upon her husband's death. She was not willing to re-unite and experiment with the social goodwill of her arrival back into the family circle! She was not sure if she would be accepted, or if she would end up as a disturbing anchor stone in a smooth-flowing river just to cause ripples within the family that has been living without her presence for the last many decades.

It took several chats, coaxing, inputs from some elders in the town and encouragement from the newspaper vendor to make Grandma agree to the shift of her base from the simple shack in Kutch to the home of her grandson at the quarters of the sugar factory in Uttar Pradesh. Uncle Vijay could now breathe the air of Kutch calmly, reflect upon the steps that got him here and take the next train back with Grandma. It was a memorable success and an unforgettable journey. 

Fast forward to the end

What unfolds after arrival in Uttar Pradesh is the event of convincing his father to come over and meet his mom. His dad, Kakhu Bha, who was then living in Mumbai, finally made plans to come over and meet his mom whom he does not remember much as he was separated at a young age. He had no real memories of the young mom's face when he was separated to which he could extrapolate wrinkles and age spots to picture his mom of today. But he knew that an eager mother with years of unspoken grief was waiting to see him.

Grandma and her son, Kakhu Bha, finally met in 1973, after a 53-year separation. That was an exemplary achievement for Uncle Vijay to have rebuilt the broken bridge between two generations. The value of this gesture was hard to measure but the impact of this was going to last the rest of their lifetime.

Kakhu Bha took his mom, Sakarmaa to the Kutch Ashram in Haridwar and both of them lived there. Kakhu Bha took up a job as the administration assistant of the ashram. Sakarmaa passed away some years later feeling content, happy and blissful that she could pass on to heaven after having re-connected to her son, grandson and the rest of the family after having lost them for years.

Kakhu Bha continued serving the ashram for several years, grew old and passed away too. 

Interesting re-visit

Interestingly, Rahul Hariyani and I made a visit to Haridwar recently, in September 2023 and that gave me a nice feeling of having touched a small part of this story's timeline and location :-) 

Rahul Hariyani, during the visit to Kutch Ashram in September 2023

... we shall continue to 1967 ... the story with another episode of Uncle Vijay's adventure of taking two 83-year-old grannies, Surajba, mother of a co-worker and Maniben, grandmother of a Gujarati person (who was an employee of a fabrication company for short-term in Barabanki) who wanted to visit Naimishnarayan Temple in the town of Naimisharanya.

Uncle Vijay worked in Barabanki from 1969 to 1986.

Monday, November 7, 2022

Emotional connections of Gomi

Let's set the scene correctly, Gomi is a cow. Sacred, respected, and almost like a family member to its owner, Uncle Hariyani. 


Rahul - Uncle Hariyani - and me, at Paul Cafe, Deira City Centre (Dubai)

Our coffee conversation today [6 Nov 2022] went from Uttar Pradesh to Nainital, Chopta, Dugalbitta, and the awesome views from the hilltop Surkhanda Devi temple. The narrations by Uncle Hariyani were like a National Geographic crew showcasing the region ... I felt as if I was walking with him while appreciating the views.

Let me trek back to the Himalayas after a short detour into the emotional connections of Gomi, a cow that became Hariyani's "asset" when he acquired a small piece of land in Uttar Pradesh near his home. Gomi was housed on the land and a caretaker, Raghunath, was appointed to look after her on the land, some 200m from home. Why was she named Gomi? There was a cow named Gomi during Uncle Hariyani's childhood days and the sentiments of the name continued its legacy.

With the induction of Gomi into the household equation, it became imperative that Rahul walk to the land every morning to get his mandatory "dose of calcium and minerals." Raghunath would milk the cow, squeezing it directly into a mug lined with a cloth to filter any dirt or debris; with a small chunk of sugar on the cloth thus giving the warm fresh milk a mild sweet taste. The daily ritual continues as long as Gomi is lactating. If you hear Rahul explain the morning walk, clad in a blanket in the cold mornings, squatting near the cow shed and drinking the warm milk ... you know that he remembers those moments as clearly as if it was just yesterday. That was the freshest of the fresh milk, from cow to cup every morning.

As the family shifted to Kutch, among the paraphernalia of the household, Gomi was also transported to the new home adjacent to the salt fields where Uncle Hariyani was a high-ranking officer, and the house had a large compound. Gomi must have missed the open land and freedom in Uttar Pradesh, but now this home near the salt fields of Kutch is to be her new abode. She might be missing her old home, which added to the fatigue from the long drive, but she was calm as Raghunath accompanied her to the new territory. But her brain re-wired the emotions when Raghunath, a sincere employee and a loyal caretaker, was returning to Uttar Pradesh. Gomi ran to him as if she knew he was going away for good. If she could speak, she would have wept. Rahul says "Although Gomi does not react actively like a puppy, her emotions are clearly visible." 

Now Gomi is a resident of a new shed, and her life went on with the organized cycle of being pregnant, giving birth, and ensuring the supply of milk to the household for several years to come. With Rahul in charge of the feeding, his mom deals with the daily milking, making yogurt, and churning ghee from the milk. Apparently, his mom talks to Gomi giving instructions to move, turn around or back off, with Gomi responding by her hissing and obeying the instructions. Hearing the story, I can visualize the emotional connection that Gomi had with the family.

Interestingly, in those days the studs (selected bull meant for breeding) were premium assets. The owners would have a forward reservation for mating and cow owners would make bookings for the service, with a fee. We do not see such bulls walking around showing their arsenal, instead it would be guarded carefully with a regimented feeding of the right nutrients and minerals. 

Over time, the "mating technology" changed and controlled insemination of dairy cows became prevalent. Now, literally speaking, the job of the studs has been taken over by veterinary field staff armed with a catheter. That made a host of show-off studs redundant! The unemployment became so bad that now we see them roaming on the streets doing nothing and just munching on whatever they find. With this twist of the times, people began protecting the dairy cows from the studs to avoid involuntary insemination. 

Rewinding back to B.G. [Before Gomi!] when Rahul was 10 months old he had his episode of grabbing red hot amber scalding his palms, and thereafter at an older age a further episode of holding on to the edge of the culvert while riding in it and crushing his fingers ... and at around 4 years old he wandered off from home, crossing 2 railway crossings to reach town!! The tea stall owner held him at the shop and called his mom to "rescue" her wandering son. 

Today Rahul is a top gun of a large audit firm based in Business Bay, Dubai ... you would least expect to hear this part of him being a "curious puppy" who roamed off to town at 4 years old, and having experimented with fire leaving permanent scars on his hands to tell the story :-)

It's time we fast-forward to the Himalayas ... the "walk with Hariyani" today revealed places like Nainital with 3 mountains surrounding a lake, a narrow road winding by the edge of the water, and old rustic hotels lining the trail. Rahul's school was atop one of the hills in a cool climate and awesome views like in Lauterbrunnen. I can picture the ambiance and the exhilarating school atmosphere up there.

Uncle Hariyani walked me through Haridwar, Badrinath, Kedarnath, and Gangotri. His version was that these are like our 4 fingers ... "you cannot cross from one to the other from the top ... you need to ascend and descend to get to each one" ... and while those are the 4 popular destinations, the serenely tucked away places are Chopta, Dugalbitta, and the Surkhanda Devi temple at Kanatal. With his explanations, these small towns have immediately become my "top of the list must-see-places" ... and I can imagine the scene around the Surkhanda Devi temple which is perched on a hilltop with an end-to-end view of the Himalayas. I had a peek at the Himalayas when I visited Darjeeling and Sikkim ... I can visualize the beauty and the golden sunrise views here. 

Uncle Hariyani has stayed at the PWD Guest House at Dugalbitta, constructed in 1925 by the British, which was used as an accommodation for Jawaharlal Nehru at one time. As he and Rahul reached the Guest House, at night, circa 2005 for their stay, the place was pitch dark as the caretaker did not get the message about their arrival. After showing the letter of reservation, the caretaker scrambled to find kerosene, start the generator and then run to a nearby dhaba (stall) to quickly get some food.

As the generator kicked off and lights came on; it was like "abracadabra" ... the place lit up to reveal its finesse. The hallway was laid with a smooth soft carpet that makes you feel like you are floating as you walk, and the top-class wooden furniture gave the place an aura like none other in its class. The food that came from a non-Michelin star-audited dhaba was absolutely flavourful and reflected every bit of taste notes of a home-cooked local cuisine. 

Rahul's description of the night was "you will discover the real meaning of silence when you stay there" and about the breaking of dawn "you will see the golden sunrise on the sprawling snow-capped mountains when you wake up in the morning." 

With all these stories and descriptions, I can see why these places are synonyms for an adventure of a lifetime. Looking forward to my next "Switzerland experience" :-)

----- ooOoo -----



Sunday, October 16, 2022

Your food can be my poison, separated by the two continents

I was having my Smoked Golden Tinapa ... smoked milkfish, mango salad, garlic rice and a sunny side up fried egg at the Pancake House in Burjuman Mall (Dubai).



A couple sat at the opposite table. The Pakistani guy had a look of ecstasy as if he just landed on the moon and Biden gave him a green card. His blonde-haired Filipino lady friend was cool, browsing the menu.

In a few minutes, I heard him say "You choose what you like" ... and she rattled like a rusted machine gun, ordering a host of things to the waiter who was sounding like a thirsty frog on a cloudy day. In the end, I heard her say "Banana split, we share okay ..." and soon, after the waiter left, she started describing to him the dishes she ordered, and now the guy's face began to reflect the intensity of the mismatch between the food he was expecting versus the "egg, chicken liver, mashed beef in vinegar" that he is hearing.

When he came in, he thought "How much can this go wrong? It's the Philippines with the same chicken and beef"... and now he realizes that chicken can be cooked in a hundred ways that do not fit his tastebuds.

Now the man from the moon turned into someone who looked like a patient with an intestinal disorder and just out of the hospital with unsolved constipation. I think, he was reminiscing about the buffet at Al Ebrahimi running like a YouTube show, while accepting the fact that last night's emotional decision has brought him to today's financial obligation with an indigestible lunch.

He will never say "You choose what you like" anymore unless he is in Al Ebrahimi. He would also have understood that chicken can be turned into poison in some places outside his home country!

I finished my lunch, enjoyed every bit of the de-boned fish and went to my coffee adventure upstairs.

Sunday, March 6, 2022

Kutty, which means "kid" in Malayalam, but here it means "eminent"

Kick-off

By a few twists of my career path and through a friend in Chennai, I became appointed as the Director of the Malaysian subsidiary of a UK shipping company headquartered in Dubai. I have heard of the name "Kutty" in several conversations with my friends in Chennai and Bangalore; all of whom have once worked with Mr Kutty, the owner of the shipping company.

The galore of praise for this Mr Kutty accompanies most of our conversations and I had always wondered why most of them left the company despite the praises.

I learned later about the underlying story of one such "patriot" who used money from the company to pay someone else's debt and was shown the door out "gracefully." The others must have left for various other reasons. In any case, it was quite evident from the beginning that this "kutty" was not a "kid" and was nothing small.

As the game unfolded

My urge to meet Mr Kutty was enhanced as some "invisible" hands within the company keeps pushing that opportunity away. Probably, these were people who either did not like my appointment as Director or those who felt threatened by it. 

Considering that I was being entrusted to be the front face of the company in Malaysia, it was absurd that I continue holding the seat without seeing the owner on whose behalf the responsibility was being held. There was an unusual term called "statutory Director" being used by the people who described me and I thought that meant "puppet acting as Director to fulfil the Registrar of Companies requirement."

As time went by, it was quite clear that the people within the local management merely wanted a signatory who would get the visa for them to work in Malaysia and who would take the "statutory blame" if something went wrong. That was all they wanted from this newly appointed "statutory Director". Now, that irked me. I was not looking for a full-time job, but was not ready for a part-time "acting" job either! 

With the mindset of without further ado, I called upon my connection in the system and made it clear that I need to see the owner and get my "script" if I were to continue performing this "acting" job ... and the meeting was hesitantly arranged. We met in Singapore. Lo and behold, this "kutty" was a 6-feet tall eminent personality with a distinguished character. There were no further decorative words required for me to understand that he is a brand by himself.

The meeting

For the meeting, I had 2 outcomes in mind. One, if the chemistry was right, I wanted to go deeper into the game; or two, if the tone felt "grey" I should be out of the game. There was no in-between-the-lines game plan.

TVN Kutty with Ravindran Raghavan

The introducers planted many pearls of fear in describing this person as one who "would look for your weakness and ask questions that you cannot answer ... and that would make you feel small (and useless?)" Given that backdrop to the stage, my "protective shields" were engaged while I decided to take it with a "cross the bridge when you get there" attitude since I have never met him before. It was difficult to pre-judge and create an impression.

By the first 15 minutes into the conversation, I could make out that my grasp of the universe is like scratching the surface when compared to his depth of view. So, there was no need for him to ask a question and make me feel small, I already felt small without that effort!! I knew Malaysia well enough to pitch at the same level, but he had the competency for the whole globe. I enjoyed the chat very much as it took a smooth journey through what I knew and what he wanted to know.

Where do we go next?

Ironically, despite knowing that my "business competencies" were far behind his, I felt at home talking to him. It was as if I have known him earlier and there was a feeling of trust that I cannot define. I am a person who starts with "distrust" and works my way into the trust space as the relationship develops. I do not trust someone in the first meeting. But in this instance there was an element of trust that developed right away, we went into talking about the potential to form a joint-shareholding company in Malaysia.

The meeting ended with a tentative schedule to meet him in Chennai with an action plan about the new company.

A small storm

The day before my flight to Chennai, I received a call from my friend saying that he has just tendered his resignation from the company. This is the friend who initiated my entry into the company as "statutory Director." He was also one of the first employees of the company and the right-hand man of Mr Kutty when the company first started in Dubai. Wow, that was patriotic history and his sudden exit was a storm I did not anticipate.

His advice to me was to decline the joint-company formation and leave the company. That felt more like a knee-jerk response to me and did not feel right at that time. With some unanswered questions playing in my mind, I continued with my travel, landed in Chennai around midnight, checked in to Harrison Hotel at Nungambakkam and had my breakfast the next morning with mixed feelings about the adventure that was unfolding. Nevertheless, my auto-rickshaw ride took me to the apartment where I was meant to have the meeting. 

This time the meeting was more casual though I had a colour document with a summary of my proposed action plan printed on high-grade off-white 100gsm glossy paper. He went through the narrations while clarifying a few points but his mannerism showed heavy inertia in taking that "controversial" step of forming a joint venture company. I could make out that he was no longer motivated to go ahead with the plan. It could be the cloud formed by my friend's sudden resignation or some other events that changed his perspective of the plan.

I continued with the company and gradually my participation increased in the later years, I was an active Director participating in the day to day business, property purchases, and discussions on expansion plans. We had the US$85 million "Logistics Masterplan" blueprint that was created with the help of Frost & Sullivan, vetted by Price Waterhouse, and presented to the Economic Department of Singapore after I wrote an email to Mr Lee Kuan Yew. That "aircraft" remained on the runway without ever taking off as the financial crisis in the Middle East hampered free cash flow and the decision was to hold the horses.

We came a long way since then, with many ups and downs along the way.

The stubborn streak

Remember I said earlier that "he would look for your weakness and ask questions that you cannot answer ... and that would make you feel small"? This is not an overstatement, it was real. 

He operates in the future. Each day, he anticipates the problem appearing on the horizon and sets a solution. So when the problem arrives at the doorstep, he would have already had a solution. When things are quiet his famous statement was "everything seems calm, something is wrong!". When the sea is calm he anticipates the storm that we cannot see. This was not an easy strategy for me to capture or copy. Being unable to copy that strategy could have been a blessing in disguise as otherwise, I would always be in a problem-solving mode instead of grasping the joy of the day.

The human brain is said to have 100 billion CPU cores with the capability of running at 1,000 GHz; while actually clocking an average of only 600 GHz on a normal day. His neural networks must have been running closer to 1,000 GHz most of the time. 

In hindsight, due to his "living in the future" with a "high definition eye for detail" and "1,000 GHz CPU," he notices gaps in proposals, calculations and analysis very quickly. It is a very common outcome where a Commercial Manager prepares a detailed analysis and summarises the proposed action plan, just to be shot down by him in the first 90 seconds. The fatalistic part of this reaction is the Commercial Manager would become a Persian cat and starts to say "meow, meow, meow" without further counterargument.

In my personal experience, around 2008, a request came from our HR Department in Dubai asking for a self-appraisal. The message said, "the company wants to hear your perspective". I spent a good deal of time writing my self-appraisal detailed into different parts of my job scope and in addition, wrote a voluntary appraisal about the company. I remember, my synonymous line "IAL's size is like a Nair Tea Corporation, but our processes are still at the Nair Tea Company level" because "Nair is the one who takes all decisions and initiates action with no self-propelling Managers". Nothing came out of it. I was told later that the paper was not read nor discussed. Maybe the analysis was not deep enough 😊 

Commonly, he would stop absorbing once he finds the first gap in a presentation. In my perspective, if he had allowed a listening ear to the rest of the story while noting the gap to be resolved later, he may have been a more powerful mentor and there would have been fewer Persian cat moments among the key staff. Think about it - the cat has nothing to lose as it is paid a salary to purr, scratch and dream! 

The eminence in the name

Considering the yin-and-yang of his character, he built a brand around him without too much propaganda on social media or news.  His actions spoke for themselves when the company did well and his processes kept a tight lid on the visibility of numbers within the business. Back in 1996, being among the early company to adopt IBM Lotus Notes and coding 167 business applications, it must have been way ahead of the pack in the industry. 

As he approached "retirement" from business and kicked off the "launch" of his personal passions, I was fortunate to be part of the transition. He does not spend time socialising in the business circles or attending "committee meetings" on the political playing field, but it was a common sight to see people trying to see him and get a glimpse of the "eminent" man named "Kutty." 

I still enjoy the rare occasions when I get to sit with him and have coffee under the mango tree in Tiruvairanikulam at his riverside mansion. The conversations still have the magical charm that is hard to explain unless you experience it.

Tuesday, March 1, 2022

Further journeys through the salt fields of Kutch (Vijay Hariyani) 1985-2010

Kite Beach, Dubai was filled with people enjoying the cool weather while cycling, running, swimming or otherwise, having breakfast while feeling the breeze on our hair. Rahul picked me up from Novotel WTC and we got to Laola which was rated as the "best each facing cafe" by him, but that day's "low-speed service with expensive coffee in cheap paper cups" did not go well with his (and my) reviews of the place! They can do better. 

Laola cafe at Kite Beach

Vijay Hariyani was prudent. He said, "enjoy the scenery and good weather ... small glitch with the service is fine". His engaging conversation of the day took me through a whirlwind of history and I "walked with him on the salt fiends and yesteryears" as I became absorbed in the way he narrated the little stories that connected to each other. It was like small dots that connect to make a big picture ... and I forgot about the annoyance I had when I got my coffee in the paper cups ... Rahul and I ordered another coffee 😊

Vijay's walks on the salt fields from 1985 to 2010 have deep experience and excellent stories right from the point of action. I did not get absorbed by chance, the depth of the story is like watching an Amitabh Bachchan movie with twists that make you want to know more ...  though Rahul may have had a hard time hiding his yawns after having seen the "movie" several times 😉

It turns out that the Maharaja of Kutch, in ancient times, had a close relationship with the palace of Yemen. His frequent trips to Aden and friendship with a businessman from Mumbai gave birth to the idea of setting up salt harvesting in Kutch. His Cowasji Dinshaw* (a Parisi businessman with vast business interests including a large salt field in Aden) encouraged and supported the Maharaja's efforts to set up the first salt field under the name "United Salt Works" in Kandla on the Maharaja's own plot of land. After the independence of India, this land was taken over by the government as part of the nationalisation policy where the royal house had to hand over its powers to the democratic government.

*Cowasji was so well connected in Aden that he was called Adenwala in Mumbai.

The salt fields were run as a business with a Parsi gentleman (let's call him Farzan for the sake of this story) from Bombay, assuming that royalty must have been paid to the Maharaja. The salt fields did well and flourished, but over time yield dwindled and it went into deep financial trouble. While the fields were in trouble waters, workers were unpaid, machinery was left idle and probably a host of vendors had unpaid dues too.

Vijay's connection to this field came when he was invited by Farzan to assist in rescuing the situation by finding a way to generate cash and revamp the operations. Considering the depth of the problem, Vijay who was on his way to retirement, took this assignment as a problem-solving challenge rather than one where business can be restored. 

On the sidelines, as Vijay sat with Farzan to review the "action plan", one vendor appeared and was agitatedly asking for his dues ... "You have not paid me Rs34,000 the last 9 years!! I have gone to your office in Kandla and they keep pushing me around. Will you pay or not??" ... and Farzan was not new to this kind of aggression, so he kept his calm and ... "No problem Saab, sit down, don't get angry ... now you came to me let me check. I promise you I will check and confirm right now" ... followed by a shout to his accountant ... "Baiju, bring the ledger and check if we owe this gentleman his payment"

Meanwhile, Farzan continued his chat and ... "Saab, you came a long way, you want tea? Have some tea ... boy, order one chai for this gentleman"

Baiju went on his search for the "historical records in the Museum of Farzan" and came back with a crumpled, discoloured but legible, loosely bound thick ledger and pointed to the handwritten record with multiple corrections and said, "Yes sar, we owe him Rs34,000"

Farzan was a fair man, he immediately accepted that he owes the dues to the vendor and told him ... "Now, I know I actually owe you. So, don't worry, I will pay you" ... and the vendor being cool by now, but slightly annoyed ... "I need to know when you will pay me" ... and Farzan, "You see Saab, I have a long list to manage and I don't have any money now. I am arranging. And I will pay you, but I cannot commit a date to you now"

The Saab hit the roof and started his retort ... "You have to tell me a date. If not I am going to take you to Court. I will make sure I sue you ... blah, blah, blah ... (maybe) with intermittent use of the words that mean idiot, cheat, bluf, dishonest"

Farzan's eyes broadened and focussed on Saab like inspecting a rough pearl from the ocean and he called out to his trusted accountant ... "Baijuuuu, cancel the tea! Write Saab's name in the list of legal suits. Bring me the list"

Now he shows Saab the list of 48 names, and says "Tikey (means OK) Saab! I will write your name here. You are number 49 suing me in Court. Go to Court and take action. I will manage it. Thank you Saab, go ahead" ... and with a wry smile, he tells Vijay, "I like people going to Court. That way they don't disturb me anymore!"

With that Vijay embarked on a semi-retired mission of trying to find a solution for Salt Field No. 1 of the Maharaja of Kutch that was established in 1920 and has been dormant for the last 15 years.

As he met with the local community and spoke to the leader he realised that the "weight of the whey is much more than meets the eye". The people have been living in the company houses for the last many years while the unpaid wages were mounting. They are irked and exasperated with the situation that they were left with when the field stopped operations. As Vijay struck a conversation with the elders, he realised that the problem is more than just numbers. His demeanour must have been so charming (like Amitabh Bachchan!) that the people took him to their houses, showed him around and went at length to share their side of the story. 

Along the way, as he felt more connected to the crowd, he asked for water ... and they served him a good cup of tea (not the type that we got in paper cups that morning!). It became quite apparent that they are not going to allow any items to be moved out of that place unless they are paid. The company has junk machinery (old abandoned machines that have become junk by this time) and various scrap materials that can be cashed. 

Several visits over the next 3 months, more tea and some talks with the elders yielded some results. The community agreed to allow the scrap to be removed and sold, provided they are settled with the revenue made from the sale. That seemed like a good deal to strike with the people to loosen the knot and move the company agenda. With that the elders helped fix the buyers, scrap was removed, sold and the community was paid some compensation. 

In the historical timeline, Salt Field No.1 still remained undeveloped while the workers are staying in the same area doing other activities to sustain themselves. Salt Field No. 2 has become Friends Salt while Salt Field No. 3 has become Ahir Salts.

Interestingly ...

  • The Rann salt desert in Gujerat is approximately 400,000 acres in area. 
  • This is an area where saltwater comes in with the tide and recedes leaving behind the salt deposits
  • The government has allotted permits to harvest the Rann salt only for bromine production while allowing the local sale of salt only during the salt crisis.

More interestingly ...

  • Japan had been a big importer of salt from India for the purpose of making caustic soda and the downline materials from it
  • North Korea used to trade by selling pulses to India and buying salt ... Vijay has managed loadings to North Korean vessels while having coffee with the Captains and having cautious conversations (cautious because they do not talk about politics!)
On the sidelines ...
  • Land deposits of salt are very rare, however, there is the Sambhar reservoir in Rajasthan where land deposit of salt is harvested
  • Meanwhile, rock salt is found in Himachal Pradesh

And I never realised that ...

  • Salt being a relatively cheap commodity is sold at approximately Rs1 per kg profit by the salt fields which generate 300,000 kg a day on average ... thus making a profit of Rs300,000 per day!!!
  • Man, that is a handsome profit.

Now, going back to Jakko where Vijay hired the contractor the herd of donkeys to transport gypsum ... after the stint of recovering Gypsum, Vijay was engaged by another businessman and friend, Mr Naidu from Chennai to survey the land around Jakko. 

With the help of the local master Mr Hussensha, the area was surveyed on jeep and to the amazement of Naidu, there was a vast land that can be identified for salt harvesting. 

In the later developments, Naidu managed to secure 4,000 acres on one side and another 6,000 acres on the other side of the Jakko salt field that was managed by Vijay previously.

In their expansion of the business, Anantham, the boss of Mr Naidu further expanded to another 60,000 acres that were leased based on the ancient British format salt field lease agreement!

... I need to sit with Vijay again to untie some of the knots in this blog. More updates to come.


Saturday, February 26, 2022

Perumal C Gounder, storyteller and father in law!

Perumal Gounder from Namakkal, Tamilnadu ... he is my favourite father-in-law ... Ooops! ... the only father-in-law. He passed away on 20th Feb 2010 right at the end of the Chinese New Year holidays.

His one step in the "right" direction in the underground pedestrian tunnel at the Kuala Lumpur Railway Station way back in 1991 made my day and was the start of my journey towards marriage. In the age of deep cultural reflections and him being from the hardcore land of India, it was amazing how practical his thinking was.

Perumal Gounder

Wedding photo of Perumal Gounder (right) and Kaliammah

His daughter was walking up to Platform 2 at the station to meet and greet the family, holding hands with the boyfriend whom the family has not approved yet ... that is how he first met me! Both of us were holding hands, chatting and casually walking up the stairs as the trains never come on time and we were early by half an hour. But to our dismay (or blessing) the train was earlier than scheduled on that one day in the last 5 years and the whole family was right there as we emerged 😀

He started talking right away as we met, without too much of a formal introduction, and he went on chatting about the train journey, their snack at Gemas station and the good sleep thereafter. The family has arrived to participate in the graduation ceremony of my wife (then girlfriend) at the University of Malaya. I had a car by then and drove to the railway station with the idea of fetching them to their relative's house, provided there are no smoke and thunder when they meet me for the first time.

For them, I was then a Malayalee who sidetracked their Tamil daughter into a relationship, and a Malayalee was not at all acceptable in the close-knit Gounder* circles.

*Gounders are a clan from Tamilnadu who are very close to their culture and select their sons-in-law from within the clan in arranged marriages. Here I was from outside the clan, and like adding salt to the wound, I was not even of the same state in India. That was a mighty gap that does not fit their checklist.

So what happened at the pedestrian tunnel? 

As he continued talking while we descended the steps, my future mother-in-law was fuming mad and that was visible in her gestures. She had told my wife that they will all take a bus to the relative's house and "we do not need to get into the Malayalee's car now ... and why the hell did you bring him to receive us at the station??"

At the base where the tunnel starts there was a left turn (to my car) and a right turn (to the bus station). While the whole family turned right based on the "approved protocol of the day" to take a bus and dump the Malayalee at the tunnel, he continued chatting and followed me to the left. I stopped to tell him, 

"They are all going to the bus" ... and my mother-in-law gestured to him to say "we need to go this way" ... while he turned to me and asked, "so where are you going this opposite way?" ... 

... and my response "my car is on this side, if you are OK, I can drop all of you, otherwise, the bus station is on the other side"

To my surprise, he turned to his wife (the fuming mother in law) and said "the car is here, we go this way" and continued walking with me with "ah, so where did I leave the story, yes, that time when I came to KL in 1943, I was in Chembong ...." I am sure my mother in law would have had the moment of what-the-xxxx is he doing, we clearly agreed that we are not going to allow this Malayalee guy into our genetic pool, and you are so cool after meeting him for 3 minutes.

That turning point got me talking to him all the way to Klang, lost the way a few times under the pylons and finally found their relative Bengali Karuppiah's house. With his talkative nature, I had half of his biography written on my mind in the first few days itself. For me it was an exciting encounter as ... firstly, I had not had any close encounter with someone who was born and brought up in India, secondly, his memory was so good that each story will have detailed dates, figures and people's names spiced up with the motions of the times.

On the first day when I met him, I understood why Karuppiah of Klang was called "Bengali Karuppiah" .... not because he looks like a Bengali, but because he beat up a Bengali man due to some cow dispute!! On this day also I understood he has very high regard for one Muthu from Singapore which I found out after marriage that Muthu refers to "Muthu Annan" whom my wife had spoken about previously.

By the second day, he owned up "I was completely against you marrying my daughter. It was like a big blow to my status in the Gounder clan. Then I spoke to Muthu and he told me that I should accept it if my daughter is happy with the choice. And by the time I met you, I decided that I am going ahead with the decision" That was a big milestone in my decision of marriage.

As we moved along ...

Each time we met, I was getting an updated version of his village and stories of his childhood as I was beginning to build my image of India. I (and all my family) had never been to India at that time! His narrations were very specific about the "teppa kolam" (small pond) at the village, his adventures of walking off in the middle of the night to see a movie and returning before anyone is awake, and the many attempts he made to get his passport to come to Malaysia (then Malaya).

He was so frank that many in the family fears his stories that may reveal too much of the hidden secrets and mysteries, which I must admit was indeed true and was really fun hearing the occasionally "juicy" truth rather than filtered stories.

We had a good time during the several holidays when he was with us to Cameron Highlands, Singapore, Penang, Kota Tinggi Waterfalls, Lake Gardens and Melaka. Among the trip that he enjoyed the most must be the trip where he went to India and had real fun with his brother-in-law, Ramasamy of Vagurampatti. He spoke of this visit so frequently that I clearly "remember" the stalls where they had drinks, the pond where they had roast duck with idli and the days that they enjoyed each other's company at the office. We were trying to arrange another such visit but the efforts failed. The only trip we could manage last year was one to Singapore where we had a barbecue by the seaside.

My memorable "wedding invitation" trip ...

By the time my first sister in law was getting married, I was a good companion for him to chat with each time we met. So I was assigned to take him on a round trip send my sister-in-law's marriage invitation to some family members and several of his friends.

On that "invitation" trip the travel took us through memory lane as it was to his younger day's region - Chembong, Negeri Sembilan. And indeed he was so elated to go to his original enclave and barge into his friends' houses - while also barging into wrong houses twice - and scolding the lady of the house who opened the door to a stranger!!

Chembong Estate is where he had come and settled into a job when he arrived in Malaya. This is where he had bachelor friends who shared the estate quarters with him, cooked wild boar and enjoyed the night with beer during paydays, rented a car to watch movies in nearby Seremban town and made a maiden trip to Batu Caves in Kuala Lumpur. He was a bachelor with no hooks having fun with no limit (I assume) until my mother in law arrived to tighten his freedom 😐

When we went there to send the wedding invitation, he was like a young boy enjoying the past glories while narrating those events to me.

Going back to the beginning ...

Back in India, when the story of jobs in Malaya was going crazy, he and a group of friends gave their money and details to an agent in the village to apply for the visa. The agent was under police surveillance for some other fraudulent activity, which came to light when the long delay for stamped passports ended with the sight of the agent's house being sealed with police tape! Now the passports are stuck inside the house and the money is as good as gone.

Some villagers probably climbed into the house through the roof and "rescued" the passports which were found to be un-stamped. Now the money is gone and the visa is not in hand. With that, he made a second attempt through another agent and got the visa.

The landing point was Singapore where the stay was with a group of Gounders. The close-knit community had shared accommodation for those who arrive looking for jobs. Staying there are trying to find a job did not yield much result, but his brother (who was years elder to him) took him to Serkam in Melaka. From there he landed a job in Chembong Estate through some known network of people.

Missing a friend ...

Well, it is very nice to have had such a good "friend" in my life and to have heard significantly interesting stories that I would never have heard otherwise. The hours of listening that I did is the greatest memory now that I try to recollect some interesting episodes. Considering the days when the cultural perspectives were strong in the community, his guts to take the controversial decision to allow me to marry his daughter was exemplary. And he stood by the decision without giving in to the pressure from some relatives.

I certainly miss his stories ... most of the stories would have been repeated many times, but each time it would have a few new points and sometimes reveals the secrets of the past.


Footnote:
Part of this content was published as a Facebook Note on 8th March 2010. Reproduced here and expanded to safeguard the content since Facebook (now Meta) has discontinued the Notes feature.

Friday, February 25, 2022

Slow down, listen to life's music and embrace the journey

My world has two sides, like the yin and yang ... one that is designed for speed and the other designed for a stroll

Ravindran Raghavan at DubaiWhen I reached 50, I had a misconception that I have understood the world. Due to a not-by-design stroke of the paintbrush, I had an unexpected twist of my career that saw me walking along Dubai Marina all alone on weekends listening to my favourite music and having ample time to re-evaluate the priorities of my life. 

The experimental change from Kuala Lumpur (living with family) to Dubai (living by myself) changed my perspective on life drastically. I realised that many things that I took for granted in relationships, health and happiness requires attention. I was more selfish in the pre-50 segment of my life and mistook the experiences as "knowing a lot about life" just to learn at 50 that I knew very little.

Over the next few years, I lost weight, gained stamina, improved my tolerances with people around me, understood that the world revolves without my help, and started enjoying the new "me". Today, I am 57 (wow! time flies indeed) and my priorities have totally changed over the last 7 years. I value things and people very differently. And I value my time in my job differently too. 

Ok, so coming to the "my world has two sides" part. I work with a boss who is young, energetic and extremely futuristic. So much so that the people around him would grasp only a fraction of what he narrates from his vision. Imagine listening to a new concept for half an hour and ending up knowing less than when you started ... that's how it would feel in the beginning. A few more Google searches and reading will be required to connect the dots properly.

I am doing a catch-up job each time he shares a video, book or new technology. If he had the right resources, he would "land a rocket on Mars tomorrow", that is the speed of thought with the level of his detailing and conceptualising of the game plan. On our daily conversations, I hear thoroughly thought through details on self-adjusting colour on droplets of paint that can create a whole wall of image based on the algorithm, sustainable island resorts with self-contained supplies, tooth-fairy tales that educates children, underground farming to preserve the land above, a complete under-the-surface city, smart accommodation with self-managed self-billing services, and many more.

My workdays start with a dose of one of the videos or a chapter of one of the books that he has shared. Usually, these materials will awaken the senses and charge up the adrenalin for the day. Speed. That's the result of the action. Some of the references would be a discovery of something that I had not thought of ... like hearing that "the website design should have slightly off black fonts and a tad off white background" i.e., it should never be fully white or fully black; to suit the human eye ... I bet you must be Googling this now!! 

After some period of being exposed to this "radiation of virtual energy", I became habituated to depth-in-the-details views on things. I don't know what this is going to do to me in my old age ... would my kids serve me coffee from a distance with a long bamboo stick because I want it "exactly 83 deg C with Liberica beans in an off-white coffee mug with a grey handle"? ... maybe not, because my younger son measures the temperature of the oil using a digital thermometer when frying chicken and that irks his grandma ... so looks like I have rubbed it on him 😆

On the other hand, my boss' other half is a medical doctor (by qualification) and an entrepreneur (by design) who promotes inner well being, under the brand name Bodysm. I happen to be one of the Instagram followers of the well-being space and Bodysm's postings usually trigger the "Oh that's worth thinking!" reaction because some of them would lend the opposite perspective compared to my workday Tony Robbin's noise and thunder.

Considering that I am on my halfway point to retirement*, my weekends are usually the complete opposite of workdays. I wake up early, get my caffeine boost at the hotel coffee house, have a chat with Azhar the enthusiastic waiter ... and then it's personal time ... wandering to a mall for a second coffee while watching responsible fathers deal with their kids who are trying to play hide and seek under the table while tilting the hot coffee or seeing faithful husbands getting a brief lesson from the wife with a complete reference to the last 5 years' data of his misdoings (he stands no chance in that debate as he won't remember any of those past events!). And I would feel so lucky to be all by myself and have the almond croissant with no one to tell me how that could shorten my lifespan by 3 minutes over the next 10 years ... and oh yes, I would miss home badly 😜 

That's the time when these messages from Bodysm would awaken the other side of the Atlantic ocean, the brain cells that were sleeping during the workday. It would now be the "slow down, listen to the music, do not multitask and kill yourself, watch and embrace life" kind of perspective to life. When I am basking in the glorified retirement mission, these are absolutely the way to go! Embrace life, and not race with it. The 2022 opening message "Do not multitask" hit the home button on my keyboard of resolutions. 

With that, my resolution for the weekends has been "do not multitask ... catch one friend who has nothing to do ... listen to his version of why the world needs him ... and then go on with my mission of watching-the-world-go-by". Oh my, that has made my weekends feel so "spacious" ... giving the mind enough electricity to value the sights of birds chirping at the outdoor seats of Nero Cafe, the petunia on the road shoulders that colour the walkway and the workers who are enjoying their meal heartily while squatting on the ground within their exhibition workspace.

Life is dynamic. I cannot say that the thoughts of today are permanent. For now, the combination of high energy weekdays and low-speed weekends feels refreshing. It's like a cycle of charge and discharge. 

*Just for you to know and in case you want to fund my empty plans 😀... by retirement, I do not mean doing nothing and watching the neighbour's dog chase its tail. My glorified retirement dream is to visit the smaller countries in the world, listen to some old folks re-live their past glory by sharing their story, ... and chase some insects with my macro lens while "slowing down and embracing the music of life"


... BY THE WAY, on the sidelines ...

Make it a mission for tomorrow's breakfast - take a spoonful of Liberica* "television brand Kluang coffee", mix in cold water to create the "expresso", filter it into an off-white ceramic mug then add 83 deg C hot water (not boiling water), stir to perfection, add no sugar and sit on the outdoor seat. 

coffee in a mugYou will have the kind of coffee that will change your caffeine experience exponentially as you enjoy the inviting colour of the coffee (with the right contrast to the off-white mug), with the plume of steam dancing above the cup (against the backdrop of the chirping birds) and the smooth tasting coffee synonym to an XO cognac.

*Liberica accounts for less than 1.5% of global coffee, is quite rare, and has its caffeine concentration at ~1.23g per 100g which is the lowest among the 3 coffee cultivars. Fortunately, my hometown, Kluang in Malaysia a growing region for this coffee variant. The television brand was established in 1966 when I was one year old and still running in my napkins.