When I was in school, in the early 1970s, one occasion that we four brothers looked forward to was an annual visit by Param Uncle, as we used to call him. His official name was Tharoor Parameshwar, editor of Reader’s Digest for over two decades from the mid-1950s. Param Uncle came every year, usually by December/January. Continue reading “The Tharoor I Knew”
Speaking of politicians from Kerala, one of the most respected must be KR Gowri, now 101 years old. Also referred to affectionately as Gowri Amma, she could be the oldest living politician in India. There does not seem to be any book on her, as yet. Even if there is, I am yet to come across. There is, however, a Wikipedia page here.
Born in Alappuzha district of Kerala, she was the first female from her community to have studied law. Having joined the Communist Party early, under the influence of an elder brother, she was a member of the legislative assembly of Travancore-Cochin in 1952 and 1954. She went on to become the only lady in the first Communist Ministry in Kerala led by EMS Namboodiripad, from 1957 to 1959 Continue reading “A brief meeting with K.R. Gowri”
Today is the 74th Independence Day. As I write this, Malayalam news media is full of discussions on the gold smuggling scandal that has been the rage for the last six weeks. In stark contrast to the jet setting life style and outlook of present day leaders, I was reminded of two incidents from a few decades back. Continue reading “A train journey with PKV”
When I left for New Delhi to pursue my postgraduate studies, my father handed me a list of about 12 names with addresses of people who I should call on. It helped that all of them were in South Delhi, one of the factors in my deciding to join JNU, also in South Delhi, and not Delhi School of Economics. Continue reading “Dr KNS Nair – My doctor in Delhi”
William Shakespeare was pointing to the cruelty that mankind meted out to animals, while writing these lines in the second part of his historical play, Henry VI, based on the life of the 15th century King of England:
Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong; And as the butcher takes away the calf And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays, Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house, Even so remorseless have they borne him hence; And as the dam runs lowing up and down, Looking the way her harmless young one went, And can do nought but wail her darling’s loss.
This is the first post in a series of brief cooking notes that I started writing for a friend, who was at a loss at the beginning of the Covid-19 lockdown. He had lost his mother, his ailing dad was 92, his maid had stopped coming, no food of any kind was available, and he had not clue about cooking.