Class, Indian Gossip 101: The Art of Conjecture

I remember hearing this word in a parking lot at the WTVI studio in Charlotte, NC. It involved two guys discussing about their TV producers not allowing them to do certain stories because it was controversial and they may be attached to it due to their skin color. In my context, this word has been used particularly in the Indian community of all tribes. The idea behind it though is to get to main truth. Like Oliver Stone said about JFK "that he tried to create myths" to provoke action to get to the truth (the Mossad?). Same could be said here.

Class. Go to your typical party involving old Indian people. You see the mixtures, hot milk, tea or coffee. Cards, of course. India music and movies from the old. Maybe, some sweets or beech-nut pak. Then, gossip. Somebody will bring up someone with a new house or car. Job outlook. What kid got into college and what they are studying? Who is getting married and to who, what their occupation is? Mostly, it involves relatives and problems. What's new?

However, everybody wants to know more whether its the guest who leave early, leaves late, or who stays over particular when it involves an Indian who is different. Urvashi Vaid comes to mind. A typical Indian-American girl (born in India) with great academic pedigree reinforced by Indian family values from college professor parents. Whew! Yet, Urvashi could interact and make a difference with the outside world while still maintaining her Indian identity. The A Dr. Laura Schlessinger's Nazi ideal (Do as I believe but not as what I am).

Throughout the late 80's, this woman appeared in family conversations amongst Indians. I know, there wasn't a day when I was being lazy or complaining about dating non-Indians. This lady's name would come up, frequently. "Look, she listens to her parents, doesn't date, and works hard. They mentioned about her staying within her race non-verbally but that was their message. Because, they kept perseverating on her until whispers about her being single. It was 1990 and she was thirty-two, very late for an Indian woman.

Many said, don't worry this is America, women get married late. What about that short hair, showing her ears? Hey, its the fashion. Whispers about her being head of some Gay force. Okay, she is a liberal who supports equal rights for everybody but she isn't gay. Even if she was, its just a fad, she'll go back to a man. Oh, you are just jealous. At least, that is how it was explained to me when I asked those questions in a defensive manner.

My questions didn't provoke actions but it did keep the conversations down. My use of conjecture. When she came out visibly after Bill Clinton's election, she disappeared from conversation. Truth was, she was out as a gay woman since 1983 but the Indian community were in denial until she lead a protest march of gay people to Washington which they couldn't deny. The Indian magazines left her just like that. Threw her accomplishments out the window and are still waiting for the next heterosexual Aryan-Indian ideal in America.

Well, class. This is my spiel on conjecture. They can be used to get to the truth but mostly they are used for slander. Careful how you use them. When you go to your next party or next assignment, try not to create scenarios about people. It will lead to some truths but it comes with a price. Like JFK, it provokes action but it doesn't do much and goes away. Me and the Indian community in America are still paying for it concerning Urvashi Vaid. We left her.

An Indian tale

There are things can drive you nuts. But India politics can drive you crazy. But don't think that it originated in India. Here is one story that any Indian observer can relate to. This is about former Governor of Alabama, George Wallace. Maybe some of you heard of him. The man who said "Segregation today, Segregation Tomorrow, and Segregation Forever." Ordering police to beat on Martin Luther King and civil rights demonstrators during the 60's. But this man is from the United States of America. Yes, I know but his story is an Indian story.

Believe it or not, George was actually a liberal out of law school. When he ran for governor in 1958, he supported the NAACP. But his opponent, John Patterson, had support from the KKK and won the election. Patterson as Attorney General got the NAACP out of Alabama. Then as governor, he tried to send Martin Luther King to jail on tax evasion, and the Freedom Riders out of Alabama. George realized that people in Alabama cared about race more than roads, education, and the future. So when he ran for governor in 1962 (Alabama was a one term state), he played the race card and won on the segregation platform.

As governor, he was responsible for the church bombing which killed four black girls and other racial crimes in Alabama. But in 1966 due to the one term policy, he couldn't run for governor. However, because white Alabamans loved his attitude on race, they were willing to elect his wife, Lurleen, a homemaker over the 1958 winner, John Patterson. She married George straight out of high school at 16 years old. They met a store where she was a cashier. With Lurleen as governor, George ran state government behind close doors. George or Lurleen passed laws for allowing more than two terms.

Unfortunately for Lurleen, she was holding a secret. She had been fighting cancer for 5 years due to the pregnancy of her last child when a doctor noticed a growth in her tissue. At the time, the man was told first of his wife's condition. George insisted on not telling his wife the diagnosis. Four years later, she visited a gynecologist for abnormal bleeding and the doctor's diagnosis of cancer was a complete shock to her. She was particularly outraged at George when a staffer told her that he knew her diagnosis in 1962.

Despite the cancer, she ran a full campaign and made a 24 minute inauguration speech promising to uphold her husband's political platform. Meanwhile, she was going through radiation treatments and a hysterectomy before the campaign started. She would have to go to Houston, Texas for her treatments because Alabama didn't have a center. Her life would end on May 7,1968 and lieutenant governor, Albert Brewer would finish her term. He lost in the 1970 Democratic run-off to George who ran a brutal racial campaign on Albert and his family. In her short term, Lurleen pushed funding for the developmentally disabled and state parks in Alabama. In finishing her term, Brewer established a cancer research center at the University of Alabama Birmingham in her name.

In the end, George "changed" his attitude after he got shot and paralyzed in the 1972Presidential campaign. He asked for forgiveness of his racial past by going to NAACP meetings and black churches. In his last term of governor (1983-1987), he appointed a racially diverse government. As for his 1958 and 1966 opponent, John Patterson, he endorsed Barack Obama. Later on, both men said that they had run on a segregation platform to hold office at that time. They also mentioned about the good things and the changes that came about in due time. However, all this would not have happened without Lurleen Wallace.

Thank you, Marthanda Tondaiman?

When guests who aren't your relatives offer you something, don't assume that its always going to be free. I learned that the hard way. This dude, my chaperon, kept begging me to death if I wanted any sweets. I tried to tell him no, no, and no. But he persisted so I went to this counter where they sold hulvas and other oiled, soiled sweets. When I bought the items, he told me the amount and that I had to pay for myself and for him. I could have killed him but he thought he was "sweet."

Another problem was the Tamil strangers who kept asking me to fill their immigration card when they were entering and leaving Chennai airport. When I entered India, I had this guy at the baggage claim asked me where he was going and what it said on the ticket. What? Another time, I had this lady give me her card when the plane was about to land and said nothing. So, I sat there and did nothing. Finally, she asked me in Tamil to fill out the card and told her story about why she was there and so on. I filled it out. Geez, Louise! It wasn't over, yet. When I landed in Trichy from Malaysia, another dude tried to put his immigration card in my hand. I motioned with my fingers in giving me some cash. He shut up right there and filled the card out.

Mr. or King Marthanda---I don't know who you are or what you are. But your insignificance made a lasting impression on the town of Pudukkottai. Funny thing, you didn't understand why family and leaders made an issue of your insignifcance, but they did. You certainly showed that you can be an Englishman without leaving your homeland. Did they allow you to hang out with "other Indians" when you were a child? If so, did they beat you in games like kabaddi and then noticed that they lost to English kids? There excuse, the English are better. So, you became one.

Word had it that you went to England to study literature, academics, and women. Did being a chosen king at eleven put pressure on you or was it the Dewan (city manager)Seshayya Sastri that tried to counsel you in not spending so much on travel and horse races? Instead, he wanted you to rule with authority and bring modernization to Pudukottai. Too much, pressure or you didn't want the pressure? Did you feel disconnected with the Indian people and heck, did you feel that everything went to the British and that wasn't going to change?

Finally, did you love Molly or just wanted to prove a point? The point that nobody cares about the people of Pudukkottai including the Dewan and King George. Whatever it is, you certainly left a lasting significance in secret and the town stills pays for it. But it wasn't your fault. You tried to be honest in your endeavors. Maybe if anything, you will be appreciated for that by important folks. Certainly, the people of Pudukkottai appreciate you. A street is named after you.

Its The Women, Stupid

My cousin-in-law mentioned this when he bought a new dog for his mother. The dog would have understand Tamil, Malay, and English. Man, talk about confusion or is that Confucius. Mine is just trying to understand Tamil and English. I can't even read and write in Tamil but my English is attrocious when it comes to communication. Then its trying to understand both cultures. Not that I really care but no way I would try to bring both. When it comes to women, I like American. Why? Because I'm here and not there.

My take is this, you are who the women you like. The problem is do the women like you? If the women don't like you, don't mess with them. I can tell you this, I was born in Chicago and it sure does matter to me. However, my autism screws up everything and everyone. But since I was in India, I was happy than "pig in bleep." Funny part of that, I wasn't even trying to screw up. I just did.

Good ole Malar akka, still kept trying to hook up me but she didn't bargain with me though. She has been suffering alot with family and all. The smartest person in our family by far and that includes Malaysia uncle and dad. Before that I went to the hardest working cousin in our family, Ihila akka. Both females and the subject of marriage dominated the conversation. It kind of reminded me of a quote by grandmother "who cares if they are PhD's or no degrees."

I'm reminded of this story about the Pudukkottai king from the early 20th century, Marthanda Thondaiman (1875-1928). Controversy surrounded by this man. He grew up wanting to English which he was good at: well-educated, well-versed, and well-mannered. However, he was a bit too westernized to his own family and the British empire when he married an Australian, high-society girl named Molly Fink (He was 40; she was 20).

The King George V wanted him to marry an Indian so they can collect Indian taxes and for him to maintain the respect of an Englishman. Marthanda's family wanted British support to maintain their status. Both camps didn't recognize the marriage of King and Rani but the people of Pudukkottai gave a big welcome to the Groom and Bride after their wedding in Australia. But due to the King's rejection, Marthanda and his wife left Pudukkottai after a few months, never to return. Both their ashes still remain in London. They gave birth to a son named Sydney who never inherited the riches from his family.

On my last day in India, I was at a national park on this beach some seventy miles from Chennai with my step-mom's relative. The attendant charged about two hundred rupees to foreigners and eight rupees to Indian citizens. To be cheap with my best Tamil (with a southern accent), I said I was an Indian citizen. Then, he asked me where I lived and I said Pudukkottai. Finally, he asked for an address and said One Marthanda Road. He let me in.

You Can't Force History

Before this trip, my sister, Rathi, discussed with me about getting a tape recorder or writing things that my 94 year old grandmother has to say. I thought for a millisecond and said "I'll think about the matter." Never did. I never thought of myself as a journalist but someone who can dig up dirt for good or bad. The death of Billy Ray Wright comes to mind for instance. Mr. Wright has public documentation in existing in Charlotte, NC from 1944 to 1962 from records, city directories, and microfilms at the city public library. With my own grandmother, these resources are unavailable then and now in Pudukkottai District where she was born and raised.

However, those are just documentaions. The real history is the oral ones and what the person is about. They are the tough ones because nobody wants to talk freely but with some editing. With Billy, I tried to ask his family and classmates through the internet but family said nothing and classmates who did know him said, "Nice guy this, nice guy that." With my grandmother before Malaysia, it was when I'm going to get married. When I asked about the past, it was yes/no, what date, and what period.

When I came back to Pudukkottai, I just laid in bed and watched cricket. Meanwhile, my uncle and cousin, Senthil (sorry about adding more grey to your hair) went back and forth to city offices to allow me to stay in Pudukkottai for a week. Apparently, I violated an Indian law when I left for Malaysia. You can only come back two months after you leave India. I came back within a week. Those agencies will play the red tape game of not letting you leave town till you pay the cash. They have these books to document those. Those books are so big and dusty, they put those old Greek tablets to shame. Those goverment buildings are not computer automated but high-rank folks in government have them.

During the whole time, I was laying in bed and mulling around. This house servant who gave me tea which seemed like every hour who was getting disgusted with my behavior of not wanting to do anything. Particularly with my grandmother sitting downstairs by herself with nobody to talk to and is in excruciating pain at 94. The house servant said in a nice coersive way that I should go down and talk to her. I did albeit, reluctantly. Here comes the marriage talk.

Yes, the talk ended up being about marriage but I learned some interesting aspects of her history. Some too detailed to write but some I could mention. When I was younger, I had skin issues and use to scream when they tried to scrub my skin with soap and lotion. She mentioned about my sister, Kamini, her surgery just after birth, and how she cared for her. When she was in Chicago around 1974, she saw this guy throw a snowball at another kid who fell to the ground (I heard a story about this on reelradio.com from 1974). Likewise, she was trying to cook rice on a kitchen stove in Baltimore and set it on fire. Finally, she talked about her life how she had to raise her sister's two kids at fourteen when she died of typhoid in her early twenties.

Her memories really made me undertand the person she is and the person she became (I now understand why my relatives scrubbed me so hard when giving me a bath as a youngster). Grandmother is still alive and Billy is gone. I remember these folks in Atlanta would want to know more about their history of their relatives in Tamilnadu. Grandma had some antedotes about these folks when I visited her. My thought said, go ask grandma. She knows more than you think but don't force it out of her.

Its Random

When Sheela dropped me off at the bus station and gave me a hug, I started to recollect about my trip. First, I want to give all thanks who saw me from February 19-24, 2010. You all were great. Oh yes, thanks for the food. My weight got to be at 200 lbs. The first time I ever reached that milestone. LOL. Most importantly, you have given memories that will last me a lifetime. I was told that I could bring a 100, 000 U.S. grand and retire but said no way and I didn't know why. It was a feel thing.

My first recollection is seeing my uncle's 1961 Mercedes Benz parked in the garage with the Lions club emblem on the grill. I kept staring at the car like I did when I first noticed our 1975 Oldsmobile parked in the garage. A hypnotic effect. Next, there is this park with a walk path and a football (soccer) field surrouned by these small restaurants and shops nearby. I think either the Iraqi embassy was nearby. Finally, Bala and Urmilla taking me to a Chinese restaurant. That tiger beer got me as well as the food amount. I loved how people inside seemed so friendly and carefree. Likewise, some time later, they took me outside to this vendor that served beef or chicken jerky on a stick. You saw the Malay youth having a good time, chilling with each other. Nice night to do so.

Sheela took me to see Percy Jackson. Decent movie but didn't meet the hype. I love the walkway behind that mall where a pond, children's playground, and a bridge meet. A couple of days before, we both were talking about the old Newhart show from the 70's. The opening intro of him walking to his office reminded me of that place with the surrounding buildings. Most of the buildings are new with those metal plexi-glass except this one which is a yellow wall plastered bank building. This building had a sealed ledge on each floor, about 6 stories high with a radio antenna on top. It reminded of building in Miami from the 50's.

When I came back from the Maleeka trip, I had to walk to the doctor's office about a mile or two away. Sheela gave me detailed instructions on how to get there. It was a bit of a drizzle but it held up long enough for me to get there. On the way, I asked somebody where this street that Sheela wrote (did I tell you that she even diagrammed the street?). Even though she spoke Malay, she nodded yes that I was on the right street. While I was walking, there was this bus stand where these uniformed school kids were waiting. Everyone seemed to be festive except this obese kid with a pen in his pocket. Though, everything was cheery, there was a secretness vibe about Kuala Lumpur.

I started feeling this when we visited this auntie, Lali akka, her husband, and her daughter, Ramya. They showed this movie with the daughter acting in this scene where does back flips to break the bank security at a bank (incredible). They invited us for dinner at this Malay restaurant, I think. I like that drink that I ordered. Non-alcoholic. But still this feeling stuck with me. When Bala took me back home, talking about Kuala Lumpur, and apartments, the vibe took a hold of me.

It wasn't till I got back home and came across May 13 on wikipedia that I realized what I was feeling. Whoah, Nellie. But it explained a lot of things me about the city's vibe. You sense the helpless of the conflict with the youth of Malaysia. They keep it to themselves and stay within their group unless its the classroom or seminars. But once graduation, time to seperate. I hope the ethnic groups can get together and not fight each other for Western money and trade. People working together in the open is much better than people working behind close doors.

The Man, The Myth and The Legend

I remember meeting my Malaysian uncle in 1978. It was India at his home village of Thanjur close to a town called Ariamalum. I recall the hype before he got there. Everyone in the village seemed excited that he was coming. He was celebrity of sorts being the first doctor from the village, I believe. Definitely, the first in our family. My dad came second. I remember when he came grandfather's house, he slept on his cot. To sleep in my grandfather's cot or even touch it was an absolute no, no. But it was the uncle and he slept on the cot.

I realized what kind of man he was and I wasn't sure but I understood something about status (didn't know that word but knew the feeling). Yet, I didn't seem awed by him at all like everyone else was. I couldn't figure out how he was my uncle since he wasn't dad's brother. I never met my aunt or if I did, it never occured to me that she was related to dad's. It never registered that she could marry him and that he is my uncle. He seemed to be another person to me.

Fast forward to 2010, still the same guy with the short, cropped brylcream-style hair at age 84, close to 85. I went to his office which lays in the middle of Chinatown and Indian town. Nearby is this rail for subways. Lot of old buildings with the plaster styles from early 1900's. His building is a three story building. He is an internist practicing since 1953 in Kuala Lumpur. Still works 7 days a week with two half days (Malaysian government! Fix his tiles due to the flood and his building. Its congested. He earned it!). Its a family affair with Bala, Shanti, and Krishnan working for him. His patients for most of his career were Malays and Chinese who suffered injuries during the Japanese occupation of Malaysia. He'll treat anybody with various ailments but he is old school. He believes in exercise therapy and pharmaceutical remedies.

My sister got tore her ACL and was planning to have surgery. Uncle was astonished by her decision to do that. He said that he would treat her knee with a program of "walk and steroids." He is a tough guy but not that rough doctor. He ran an organized practice but some ailments as my former boss would say "rub some dirt on it." I don't think he believed in surgery except when it was absolutely necessary when other methods have failed. With patients, he treated with respect and professionalism. And he saw about hundreds of them on a daily basis. Very meticulous with patient records and knew what drugs to treat each patient. Sometimes, he could do without looking at the chart when the patients came to his clinic

During this trip, I enjoyed talking to him during breakfast. I enjoyed listening to his stories in his days of running track for his medical school, talking about growing up in the village, and mentioning about relatives like dad. He also talked about politics current and matching them with historical perspective. Likewise, he enjoyed talking about religion and is a avid reader literature like Shakespeare. He told dad, he couldn't understand my southern accent but he enjoyed my company.

He would make a great bio of what it took for him to be a doctor. He was friends with the first President of Malaysia, member of the Lions Club, and involvement with Malaysian soccer clubs in the 50's. With every great man comes a great woman and he had that with my aunt. He is the inspiration of our family for success because he showed the way to achieve the goal. Dad and others who became doctors did different things and were different people but Shanmuga Sundaram was the first and always will be. Grandpa knew that to get out of his way.

Digging Up Facts

As I got back, I thought about the day and that church. I couldn't understand why the dude couldn't mention one paragraph about the church. That was true with my cousins. They talked about mosques and Hindu churches and some Christian churches. Shanti mentioned about going to Catholic school in high school but I think it was in India and Bala talked about going to a Christian school during his younger days in Kuala Lumpur called St. Mary's Cathedral, an Anglican church. I'm not sure if Raja and Sheela went there but the conversation never veered toward Christianity concerning Indians especially Tamils. I did mention one who converted from Hinduism to Catholicism but that got shot down really quick.

One fact that I did uncover about Tamil Methodist Church in Malacca. The entrance that I went was not an entrance to the church but an office or storage place. It looked nice with a small, triangular arch roof with tiles in the middle for support and a carport on the side. Only when we left, I realized where the main building was which was few yards adjacent from the building that I went which the gates were locked. The main building had that triangular roofing that hovered the building with glass doors. If I just taken a few more steps, I would have seen it and found out truth myself.

As it was, I'm looking up the Internet for the facts. The church did start in 1908 but it involved four groups with Chinese (Perkanan and Mandarin), Indian (Tamils), and Malays. It was called the Kubu Methodist Church. These groups became Methodists due to missionaries who came to Malacca around the late 19th century. From private homes of donors, these missionaries disciple leaders from each group to be lead pastors. An English pastor translated the Bible into the Malay language and formed a Tamil congregation. He tried to make the sermon an English one to maintain unity. However, this proved to be unsuccessful as eventually the Chinese and Malays each built their own churches with the Tamil group keeping the historic building in 1965 and changing the name. This isn't the only Tamil Methodist church in Malacca but there are others in Kuala Lumpur, Penang, and etc.

I'm not a Christian but I'm Tamil. I find it interesting that there would be a Christian Congregation of Tamil people. In Malaysia, the population is about 28.5 million and 2.5 million of those are Christians. The total population of Indians are 2.5 million. There are 192,000 Indian Christians from all denominations but 7,800 of them are Tamil Methodists. Seventy percent of Indians in Malaysia are Tamils. Also, 500,000 Tamils are Muslim in Malaysia. In historical perspective, Tamil Muslims are responsible for bringing Islam to Malaysia during the 6th century. These Tamils were converted to Islam by Arab traders who came to south India in the 5th century.

These numbers really don't mean much but it does show that Tamils don't follow one religious category. Tamils have a historical lineage to their respective religion. Its funny how that no mentions this fact because it is supposed to be assumed that Tamils are all Hindus who are influenced by Islam and Christianity through schools and culture. Yet, historically, they had their own deity and were converts to Hinduism. Likewise, they were converts to Buddhism and Jainism during the Pallavas,Chola, and Pandyan periods. In short, everyone is a convert no matter how long or short their history. Next time, the guide should talk about that church as well.

Whose Malacca?

The tour bus consisted of English styled tourists. They were from England (duh), Australian via Scotland, and others. There was this couple from France, I believe, a lady from Korea and another lady from Canada living in Bahrain, Saudi Arabia who sat beside me. I think she worked in publishing of some sorts. The standout were these two Anglo-Indian ladies from Burma, living in Australia. They complained about the tour guide being a little hurried and him carrying this MFIIC (Mother F***in Indian in Charge) attitude. I have to say that they were a bit slow as well as I on the tour. The rest of the gang followed along and sympathized with the man's vicissitudes with his boss who was constantly called to see if he was going to beat the KL's 6 o'clock traffic. He didn't.

After a long bus ride, we stopped at this area of a Chinese deity shrine. They sold crafts outside. Nearby, there was a grave for Chinese Muslims and some distance away, a Chinese burial shrine for worshippers of Chinese deities. Adjacent from the site was a memorial for Chinese soldiers during the Japanese occupation from 1942-1945. As the bus was moving, I noticed houses on these wooden stilts. Malays and Chinese intertwined with each culturally, religiously, and biologically is the impression I got from the guide.

The tour proceeded to this fort called St. John's. Along the way, there were churches built by Portuguese and the Dutch. It was interesting what the occupying groups did to the previous occupants shrines. The Dutch preserved a lot of the Chinese buildings except the mosques. That was true of the Portuguese. Both groups built churches. Portuguese, Catholic. Dutch, Protestant. Both "burned the evidence" of Muslim presence but for British intervention not all has been lost. They preserved the mosques before them and allowed new new ones to be built was during their occupation. Likewise, they preserved Portuguese and the Dutch ones. But they converted one for an Anglican church and another for a military fort.

I got lost on the tour when I had to go the bathroom really bad after St. John's. They were going to leave without me but I ended up coming across them. It was impossible to see everything, there was too much to cover even the guide said that this was a cliff note version of the tour but he was very knowledgeable but rushed. Luckily, we ate lunch at a Chinese restaurant but this one didn't serve egg rolls and they took a long time to bring the food. Those two ladies played a role in this one. I got to know them better. Both are teachers who left Burma after independence. They both mentioned that the country got worse after independence with corruption and discrimination. Both yearned for the return of British rule.

I loved looking at the ocean shore because it looked so clear on this hot day. The bus parked itself in the middle of Malacca town. This area is where you saw all three groups live and do business. You saw Malay, Chinese, and Indian stores in old plastered yellowish buildings. About a few steps away in front of me, I noticed this church which the sign read Tamil Methodist Church, 1908. Yet, the guide didn't take us there. Instead, we moved a few yards ahead to this district where there were Buddhist temples, a Hindu temple and a Indian mosque . I don't remember any other Christian temples because I explored that area pretty well. Heck, got me a lottery ticket for one ringet. But not a single word from the guide. I mentioned it to the Canadian lady, she was pleasantly surprised and wanted to take a picture of the place. Never brought mine.

After touring the streets with the weather about 90 degrees, we left about 4 p.m. to try to beat traffic but like I said before, he didn't beat the traffic. When we got back, it was about 7 p.m. They got to the K.L city limits around 5:30 but not enough lanes to handle that kind of traffic and it started to rain. When the bus got back to the station, I was one few guys on the bus because everyone else was dropped off at their respective hotels. His boss came and started to read the riot act but I agree with the guide through a nod that it wasn't his fault. I was happy with everything else but bothered by his censorship concerning Tamil Methodist Church. Time to do the research.

Follow The Leader

The leader in this trip was definitely Sheela. She organized the whole plan even if it was on short notice. She sent me on that trip to Malacca. I would say she is the historian and archivist of the family. Of all the family members, I know her more due to her stay in Atlanta for undergrad and graduate studies. She has done well for herself. Now that her mom has passed on, she has to run the ship at her family home. I have to say, she is still in the rough when it comes to the human touch but the house is clean.

She is very politically active and astute in Malaysia as well as here in Atlanta. She kept up with the mayor's race in Atlanta and the current state government of Georgia . When she was in Atlanta, she learned and loved baseball better than Americans who lived here. As mentioned in my previous blog, she knew the history of Pudukkottai better than the folks who lived there. Likewise, she loves English literature and American lit. Finally, pop music from the 60's and 70's. I remember her talking about the feminist movement of Gloria Steinem and others. She cares about the environment and social injustices of immigrants in Malaysia. In short, she is a renaissance person, making a real difference.

She took me to that six story mall and to those twin towers. As for me, I made sure that I got up early and made sure the room was clean as well as the bathroom. I tried not to get on her bad side too much. Likewise, she didn't like people standing and mulling around. I tried to tell her that I can tour the city myself but she said no way. I think she mentioned about getting lost and being a victim of crime. She mentioned about carrying this little swinging object that could break a glass to prevent thievery in traffic. According to her, thieves are bold there and will try to rob someone on the driver side. She dropped me off at this tour guide station with buses and tourists. On my own, now.

Well, this trip to Malacca or Melaka (depending what the brochure or wikipedia says) is state and a town in southern Malaysia about ninety miles from Kuala Lumpur. It was founded by this Hindu prince who ran away from his kingdom in Singapore after getting his butt kicked (I don't know by who). Before him, local Malays occupied the place as a fishing village. Later on, this Hindu prince converted to Islam and Malacca became a Sultan kingdom. Eventually, the Portuguese took over the place from 1511-1641, then the Dutch 1641-1798, and finally the British from 1824 until 1946 where they became part of the Malayan union which later became Malaysia. Tough to process but little did I know that more was to come.

DOUBLE STANDARDS AT KL

I enjoyed the teasing from Shanti's family. Krishnan made fun of my southern accent particularly when I tried to speak Tamil. I admired him particularly when he gave a dog to his elderly mother's birthday. Aishyriya was at college and didn't see her too much. Arjun played a great piano rendition of a recent song that even his own mother was impressed. Background, she was tutoring him after finishing work from the office. She wasn't playing either. It sort of reminded of basketball practice by Pat Summitt.

Shanti really showed her boundless energy. During a hot day, she took time during a break from her family practice and tour guided me the whole city of Kuala Lumpur. At least it felt like she did. She covered a British government building(I think), a library for Malay Muslims, and this area where the rivers (oceans meet as well, I think). Kuala Lumpur was a trading post town where they mined for zinc. She discussed about Sultan and British rule. It felt more Sultan than British. The thing I notice that the flag looks like the United States but with a crescent on the star area. I didn't ask too many questions about the Malay Muslim rule. I just listened.

I'm not go over what they said and what they felt. But it was tense. Shanti is the eternal optimist in the family. She always sees the silver-lining and hope in everything and everyone. My analysis was this that Malay Muslims were getting preferential treatment in jobs, education, housing, land ownership, and government money. My impression was that they were more upset at the European visitors who come to Malaysia, see the cleanliness and the modern equities of the place that allows them to justify the racism towards Hindu's, Chinese, and others. I noticed this during the Temple visit to Murugan Temple and their complaints about the visitor's presence. Mostly, it was Europeans and Australians.

I'm sure I was included in this mix. Lazy American enjoying the fruits of someone else's suffering particularly the Hindu's who do the labor stuff but are shut out from important positions like upper management and CEO style. It reminded of a story about a black basketball player from the late 40's and early 50's, Bill Garrett. Not so much racial taunts but the quotas and those unwritten rules. Bill attended Indiana University on a basketball scholarship. Though he had the grades to attened IU and was Mr. Basketball for the state Indiana, it took an alumni from his hometown with financial influence to get Bill the scholarship. Once at Indiana, Bill wanted to be a doctor but only two blacks were allowed at the IU Medical School per a year during that time. Therefore, he chose physical education to become a coach and teacher. Likewise, he served in the army during the Korean War and played for the Harlem Globtrotters before starting his career.

He won a state championship in high school, got a Master's degree, and became an assistant dean at a college. Back then to coach a sport, you had to have a Masters degree and teaching qualifications in the classroom as well as proper behavior. However when he applied for the Indiana coaching vacancy in 1971, he got passed over by Bobby Knight who graduated with only a B.S. in History from rival Ohio State and was fired from his previous job at West Point for hitting a player. Yet, the unwritten rules and quotas that benefited him. IU fans loved Knight and didn't care about his shenanigans because he won and identified with the white majority. Three years after applying for the Indiana job, Bill Garrett died of a heart-attack at the age of 45.

After that learning session, Shanti took me to the old market place and went to various outdoor food places. It was hot outside but I enjoyed looking at the "visiting" women but one thing one bothered me. I noticed these women like to show their bodies off. I remember this lady wore a cloth that barely covered her breasts, her mid-section and her butt. Another lady fed her child with one of her breasts exposed. The natives didn't make an issue. Yet, you see Malaysian women having to wear their scarf over their head. Now, these women did show open affection to their boyfriends in public like hugging and kissing. But for the most part, they were covered up from the neck up but I saw some short sleeves and shorts. Message clear: You can oppress others as long as whites like your results and you don't oppress them.

EDUCATION OF DEVAN

During this trip, Sheela and Shanti were great tour guides concerning the history of Malaysia and India as well. Sheela showed me this book of the history of Pudukkottai. These books look very fresh without torn covers since it appeared to be from the 30's or 40's (I could be wrong). They talked about this museum in Pudukkottai where they save things from over 2, 000 years like spears, pots, paintings, and many artifacts. They had records of kings who ruled Puddukottai. The Pallavas, Pandyas, and Cholas ruled before Christ and after. I visited that museum with my cousin, Senthil, before leaving for Chennai. Likewise, I visited the king's fortress created by Thondaiman dynasty, the last kingdom before independence. Bless your heart, Molly Fink.

Sheela and Shanti took me with Aish's friend to this Murugan Temple called the Batu Caves Temple about 12 km from Kuala Lumpur. I don't remember too much history about this Murugan God. I do know know that Thamboosamay Pillai was a miner and philanthropist during the 19th century. He discovered the cave. Actually, it was discovered by indigenous Malay group, Orang Asili for shelter and used by Chinese settlers to excavate guano for vegetable fertilization. Anyway, Mr. Pillai decided to dedicate this cave to Lord Murguan. Great? Didn't you already built another temple for your Hindu family? Okay, you didn't live to see that one and that you were going to be dead at 50 years old. What about you donating money to St. Mary's Cathedral, an Anglican church (I got soaked in that parking lot during a rain storm)? What the hell was that for? Opps, shouldn't say hell.

It was everything I expected. Absolute hell for me. Should have known, it had to be a Pillai who would have done this to me. I was sweating it up and breathing heavily. As you get closer to that temple, monkeys started appearing, begging for food. When they didn't get it, they snatched it right out your hand. When we got inside the cave, I noticed a concession stand and ran to get some water. I brought my wallet with me with some Malaysian ringets. Meanwhile, my cousins and Aish's friend walked up the place like a walk in the park. They didn't even ask for water.

The weather was hot to begin with and since this temple was on a mountain cave, I had to walk some major steps on a incline. As for me, I hoped my training for walking the steps at the 72 Marietta Street Building and Restore would help me. If not, my ego wasn't going to get bruised because I had the experience of trying to climb the Pucon Mountain in Chile and didn't do it. I had to stop, my hamstrings were aching and hell, I lost to a girl before (Make sure to lose to an Indian girl as well). Man, did I get teased by my sister, Rathi, and her climbing group. They went up the mountain, looked around, and passed me on the way down. That experience really helped me for dealing with insecurities.

After my long water break, there was a gathering at this shrine with the priests in hand. My cousins bought this tray with flowers, coconuts, and bananas to be blessed by this priest. He would chant something in front of this Hindu God or Goddess statue then mention my name or my family. I don't remember too much. Hopefully, whatever I blessed for, came true. Then with Aish's friend, I climbed some more steps to see another shrine of a temple God. Don't know if its Murugan or somebody else. We didn't stay long, the monkeys took over the place and got territorial with the visitors.

When we came down the mountain (thank God for railings), there were coffee shops and restaurants. I ordered lemonade while my cousins ordered hot tea and coffee. Can't remember what the friend ordered. We started chit-chatting a bit. My mind wandered at that Gold plated, Murugan statue that stood right on the entrance. That sucker was at least 140 feet high. All I could think about was that Michael Jackson video with that statue of himself falling down. As we headed out, I noticed this building and a old lady begging for money coming towards me. My cousin gave her some. Time to get out.

Family Teasing

The tone of that vacation was set by my cousin, Shanti. She gave me a big hug and my mind was in bubble land. I remember it was a Friday and I ended up playing this video game brought Arjun and Aishyriya called Guitar Hero. Man, Arjun really kicked ass on that one then I found out that he played piano for many years. Oh, he also kicked mucho in English premier soccer game. Arsenal or Manchester? Aish was really nice to me. She like my word that I use at work for repeating behaviors called perseveration.

I don't remember if they brought a friend that day but they definitely had one the next day when we went to the mall and saw my cousin-in-law, Urmilah. She was at a coffee shop, getting ready to meet her client (she's a therapist). A surprise! Man, can she hug. I'm glad I have weight issues on this day or I would have been crushed. We made promises (I'm not sure if can keep them. Sweetie, I don't know about meeting your sister or your relative at Vegas sometime this year but if you nag me enough, I'll get it done). Afterwards, we went to this coffee shop that provided Malaysian food. I don't remember what I ate but I was full.

With some shopping done (Mouthwash and deodorant. Thanks for the shirt), I basically crashed at the place. Sheela tried to goad to read a book but too restless(Hey guys, I got Skype now like it matters. My name is trivfun, what else.) On down time when my cousins and my uncle were at work, I would just wander the place. Photos of her were everywhere especially in that room. She is missed by family and house workers. Sheela is trying to take up the slack but as the saying "it takes a village" holds true. She ran the village. I clashed with her many times concerning the issue of marriage. My last conversation with her didn't end so well.

I don't care what anybody says, she was my mother's big sister. I felt that vibe. She looked after mom and visited her home. She was a bodyguard when mom was in elementary school and auntie in high school. Too bad, she had to get married and leave mom behind but she never really did at heart. Biology says she is related to my dad, my uncle Manickam and that her parents were Murugiah and Loughanbal Pillai. However, my vibe always felt that she was adopted or a step-sister to them. At eight years old, I asked dad if he had a sister because a kid in class named Shannon Noblett mentioned about his aunt being his dad's sister.

In my Indian world, you called every elderly Indian men and women, auntie and uncle. I knew dad had brothers because he talked about them in casual conversation but his younger sister, hardly. Though cordial and friendly to each other (they truly cared about her well-being), there was a barrier of sorts. No bonding. Distant. Grandma, dad and uncle acted like that to her. Can't put a finger on the issue. Maybe, auntie wasn't so dependent on her brothers. But dad wasn't close to his oldest brother who was actually a step-brother but he talked about him and you felt the brotherly vibe. I don't how Grandfather treated her because I never saw them together. However, I do say that she had the most similar traits to him like holding on to your culture and deal making. But where did those people skills come from?

Most in our family have this autism of clamming up in front of strangers, being anal retentive, and mean to someone (usually a distant relative). Auntie wanted them to be better than their circumstance but she had this gentleness to accept them for who they are. I couldn't get through to mom and once she rejected me at a young age, I quit trying to be her son. My sister, Kamini tried very hard until mom's last breath but never got through to her. Likewise, everyone in the family tried. As they say, everybody is children of God and we are all brothers and sisters, biological or not. But Sivagami and Masilamani seemed to have an understanding in a intuitive level. I thank good ole Murugan for that.

Going to Malaysia

This is one trip for the ages. What I like about it was the that it was my style. Pure unorganization. Great for me but hell on everybody else but I'm glad nobody got hurt. The only reason I went is because of my cousin-in-law, Urmilah Dass. She kept pestering me to go for about two years. I promised that I would come in 2009 when I was in India but didn't plan well. This time I made sure I went but didn't plan but I was going to get there somehow. Thanks to my uncle, I got on Air Asia from Tirichy and didn't look back.

Somehow, I forgot to call my cousins on this. Didn't have a cellphone with me but did mention on facebook or did I? My brother go on me on this one or was it my sister? Regardless, nobody knew when I was leaving till the day I left when my uncle called my cousin to let me know that I was coming. The whole time, I assumed they knew I was coming. When I got there, my cousin Bala picked me up. My dad advised me to go on a train to dowtown Kuala Lumpur. Unfortunately, this was not the airport which had the rail but the bus line. No need for me to worry but my cousin mentioned he didn't know that I was coming till he got a call about an hour ago. Opps!

It was a long trip from the airport to my uncle's house. I noticed many empty condos on the way with no cars but big parking lots. My cousin, later on, explained to me that these were owned by Muslims from the Middle East and come on vacations or free time of some sorts. The driver of the car was my dad's house assistant when he lived in Malaysia during the Mid-60's. Amiable man with a lot of hidden talents was my first impression. He asked how dad was and tell him about him. I couldn't sleep. I was excited in seeing the island-style mountains, the highways, billboards, and the Malay language in Roman Alphabets. People were neat to see as well particular those Malay ladies with those pink shawls over their heads.

I do remember getting to my uncle's home in a leafy neighborhood that reminds of a certain suburban neighborhood in California from the 60's. Only difference is that most of these homes are gated because thievery goes on regardless of income not to mention kidnapping. Later on, I got to open that gate which was a highlight for me. Moving on, I got to the house and met my other cousins, Sheela and Shanti. Shanti's husband, their kids, Arjun and Aish (sorry I don't want butcher your name by spelling it full).

It was a great reunion of sorts and it was on a Friday but on the background something was missing, my late aunt and it revealed itself.

Back in the Village

I learned one lesson for being an Indian guy. Don't feel sorry for yourself if you are single because your family will give some "young ins" for you to look. Little did I know that this would turn into a competitive issue. My 94 year old grandmother was complaining about my being single. I tried to ignore the issue. Certainly enjoyed the food that my relatives were giving me. Grandmother lives with my uncle as well as his son and his wife. Did I tell you that my cousin has a wife and a 9 month old son. Across their house, her sister and her husband live there and behind their house was her husband's brother and his wife, my cousin. Confused. Well, I haven't cleared way, yet.

My story goes like this. I went to the birthplace of my mother in a village called Manachai. Her late mother (my other grandmother) took care of the home and land. You can look at my previous blog to get the description. I basically chilled at the place with my cousin, Mahesh on guard. Then, something happened. My grandmother's housekeeper showed up with all smiles. I was getting wary. Because I was helping her daughter with her education. Yet, she started talking about getting to know her daughter and shit. Some hours before, Mahesh's wife was upset at me for giving her money for her daughter's education. According to her, it is Indian culture that a person pulls themselves by their bootstraps. What she left out in the conversation is that you can pull your boot straps, legitimately or illegitimately.

Example: If a person ask you for 200 dollars for a haircut that is okay but if they ask just 200 dollars, its not okay. So, she got on me for giving free money. Of course, she made up some bullshit about 500 rupee fee (I checked with the managers, no such thing) to pay the 51, 000 thousand insurance plan that is supposed to benefit me after three years under her watch. But, she worked for it and hell, she has her own salon business. Its not just her but all my cousins felt that way including my cousin at the place I was sleeping at. Though, he was slick, he waited on the last day of my trip for money. First, about 3,000 rupees then went up to 5,000, and then 6,000. He talked the same game about expenses and all. Said he would owe me but I said "pay my father, its his money."

Back to Manachai. The housekeeper started to bring her daughter her along. Couple days before, I told my cousin's brother-in-law that I don't want to look any girls and that I want to marry Americans only! Remembering that thought, my cousin told the two to get back out. I noticed the girl looked well-dressed after school on a day. Hours later, the housekeeper was arguing with my cousin and mentioned that he influenced my decision making. Actually, it was me. I let her know that and told her that you only asked me to pay for her education and that was that. Then, she mentioned some emails that I sent to her, like I was leading her on. I responded that those emails were complementing her completion of her education. You could look it up.

All sorts of things came up of whose to blame. I have heard crazy stories about my parents intervening when other guys at her college wanted this girl. Then, they made secret plans of me and her meeting in the United States. The answer goes to me. I should have kept with the plan of not listening to my parents or anybody when it comes to girls because they always pick either incestuous or underage Indian girls. It just messes things up. The victim here is the girl but I don't feel sorry for the housekeeper in pushing the agenda. I did tell that I'm willing to pay for her daughter's education but no relationship. A few weeks later, I got an email from the daughter about not getting help and could I help pay for next year's education (she has been saying this for the past 3 years). Yet, she said she was going to graduate in a month which is now. I told her show me the letter where you have entered the Masters program and give me your resume so I can send it to others. No answer, yet.

I guess I learned something. Get out. Too corrupt. Time to get back to Pudukkotai and get ready for Malaysia.

Back in town

Looked forward to India this time around before leaving Atlanta. Even though my bro tipped me off that I maybe looking at some girls. Mostly, it was teens reaching past twenty. However, there was an exception of a successful, divorced woman in her 30's in my caste, so they say. Rather than deal with this depressing rainy weather here in Atlanta, I was lucky to get out of Atlanta as well as the whole United States weather situation. Chicago was the place that was going to take me back. Etihad Airlines flew from there even if its for 12 hours straight with screaming babies.

With a stop in Dubai (met an old Indian woman who taught German), I finally got to Chennai at about 3 or 4 in the morning (everything goes around Europe and USA). After a three hours sleep at my parents home, I delivered some bank transfers for my parents, and sent papers for my brother's college transcript to this professor. Later that night, I went to my older cousin's house for a marriage proposal. Unfortunately or fortunately, I was so tired that I was very incoherent with my Tamil combines with my American, southern accent (old ladies with bad hearing loved me. LOL). Well after getting stuffed with food, I went back to my parents and slept.

Next morning flew to Tirchy. I like how the pilot flew from land side to seaside back to land side. My cousin got me and took me to Pudukkottai. He brought me up to date of what I wanted to do and what he was going to do. Me, the lazy boy didn't care. Brought me to his father's house (my uncle), set me in a room with a TV with sports channels from India of course. I loved my room to the dismay of my other cousin's family who lived close by and wanted me at their house. Likewise, I fell in love with the game of cricket and field hockey as well as badminton and track field. I watch that all day. Television coverage of sports are better in India than America, if you can afford the dish. It was Feb. 14 and no girl, but I didn't give a care. On the other hand, my grandmother was getting worried about me being single. I tried to avoid her many time but to no avail.