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From The Stage To The Screen

May 25, 2015, 10:20 pm
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In 'Cineplay', Subodh Maskara and Nandita Das have come up with an unique concept: making films out of plays

By Shevlin Sebastian

Actress Nandita Das was skeptical about the idea suggested by her husband Subodh Maskara. What Subodh wanted to do was to make a film out of a play.
“I felt that the magic of theatre is in its live performance,” says Nandita. “You feed off the energy of the audience. And that interaction is crucial.”

But Subodh felt that he had a winnable idea. “Theatre does not travel to every part of India, because it is not viable to do that,” says Subodh. “There is a large population in the non-metro cities. We could reach out to these people with a film.”

The first film that was shot was the play, ‘Between The Lines’, in which Subodh and Nandita are the protagonists. The play was shot in five days at a studio in Mumbai. There were close-ups, long-range shots, and multiple takes, just like in a film. The end result was shown at the National Centre for the Performing Arts at Mumbai on February 16, 2014. And one of the first fans was Nandita herself, who hugged her husband after the show, and said, “It's wonderful.”

Indeed it is. When you watch a film version of the play, the intensity comes across with twice the force. “You can see the expressions so clearly,” says Subodh. “A camera captures so much more than the eye. In a live production, no matter what happens, you are watching from a distance. You get a broad idea, but you are unable to catch the nuances.”

The analogy is with cricket. “It is different when you watch the game live at a stadium and see it on TV,” says Subodh. “On TV, you get close-ups, you can see the expressions, and it is so much more intimate.”
An encouraged Subodh has made seven CinePlays so far. They include plays like Mahesh Dattani's 'Dance Like a Man', Mohan Rakesh's 'Aadhe Adhure', and Vikram Kapadia's 'Bombay Talkies'. “These plays have stood the test of time,” says Subodh. “They are strong in their content and relevant even today.” Another nine plays are in post-production.

One indirect benefit is that, through CinePlay, plays are being archived, for posterity. “When my son grows up, he will get a chance to see all of them,” says Nandita. “This is a revolutionary idea. I wished it had happened years ago. Then we could have seen the work of [great directors like] Ebrahim Alkazi, Habib Tanvir, Shambhu Mitra and Vijay Tendulkar.”

Meanwhile, Subodh has been taking the CinePlays all over India. “We have exhibited in clubs, theatres, colleges and cultural centres,” he says. “Right now, there are 50 distributors who are regularly screening our films.” It is a 90-minute show which happens on the weekend or once a month. The ticket prices range from Rs 100 to Rs 300.

Recently, Subodh screened 'Between The Lines' at the Ranchi Club. “All the 400 members came to see it,” he says. “And they paid rapt attention throughout. At the end, there was a standing ovation.”

An elated Subodh has also shown it in Washington and New York. “We got a fantastic response from an all-American audience,” he says. “I have realised that even though the context is Indian, the emotions expressed are universal.”

Subodh's future plans include making CinePlay a brand that leads the genre. “I also want to make CinePlays from different regional as well as international languages,” he says. “So, I will be making films of Malayalam, Kannada as well as American, Asian and European plays.” 

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi) 
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A Close Bond

May 26, 2015, 10:25 pm
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COLUMN: Spouse's Turn 

Jayasree talks about life with the BJP State President V. Muraleedharan

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photo of Jayasree by Mithun Vinod 

At the NSS College in Pandalam, KS Jayasree listened raptly to V. Muraleedharan, a senior leader of the Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP), as he spoke to a group of students. “It is education that will help you become a better person,” said Muraleedharan. “And you will be able to contribute lifelong to society. Activism should not be an escape from your responsibility as a student.”

As a member of the ABVP herself, Jayasree would see Muraleedharan in various forums. Soon, they were introduced to each other. Much later, senior ABVP leaders approached Jayasree and said that Muraleedharan wanted to marry her. “By this time I had known Muraleedharan for 10 years, but never for a moment did I look upon him as a life partner,” says Jayasree. “I had no plans to get married. I was keen to be involved in social activities only.”

When Jayasree told her parents, they told her to think hard before making a decision. “My parents knew that I would not accept anything less than a relationship between equals,” says Jayasree. So, she thought hard and finally said yes.

The marriage took place on September 12, 1998, at the Guruvayur Temple. It was the first time she was entering the Sri Krishna temple. “I got the feeling that I had reached there through God’s design,” says Jayasree.

And today, the couple are going as strong as ever. Asked to list her husband's plus points, Jayasree says, “Muraleedharan is always cool under pressure. In 16 years of marriage, he has never lost his temper with me. If I criticise him, he will think calmly about it and, sometimes, he will agree to what I have said. He is a positive-minded person, who is dedicated to his work as state president of the BJP. And because of party work, he is constantly travelling. Sometimes, I see him after a gap of 10 or 12 days.”

But unlike most women, Jayashree has adopted an understanding attitude towards these absences. “I feel that every person has a desire to live life in a particular way,” she says. “This is the way Muraleedharan wants to lead his life. He is happiest when he does this work. So I don't ponder about the little time that he spends with me.”

Meanwhile, Jayasree, who has a doctorate in Sanskrit, has kept herself busy. She is a lecturer of Sanskrit at the Sree Narayana Guru College at Chelannur. Jayasree has also set up a forum called Streechetana. “We look after the needs of women, children and the community,” she says.

Dealing with people all the time has one side effect: a loss of privacy. “When we are at home, Muraleedharan gets calls all the time,” says Jayasree. “As a politician, it is not possible to differentiate between the private and public space.”

And when they go out for dinner, people will approach him often. “Some will say that they saw him somewhere,” says Jayasree. “Others will say they are distant relatives. One or two will say, 'I liked your comment on TV.' A third person will say, 'I have taken part in a protest which you had organised'.”

All this can be a heady experience for Jayasree, but there are drawbacks, too. “Because he is so busy, Muraleedharan can become forgetful regarding family matters,” she says. “But whenever I point this out to him he immediately accepts his error.”
Another drawback is that they cannot plan anything in advance. Inevitably, at the last moment, there will be changes in the schedule.

Recently, the couple were going, from Kozhikode, to the Mookambika Temple at Kollur, Karnataka. On the way, Muraleedharan was informed, by phone, that Prime Minister Narendra Modi, who was on his way to Nagercoil, was having a stopover at Thiruvananthapuram.

Then there was a discussion on the phone on how long Modi would be there. Finally, Muraleedharan was informed that Modi was not coming out of the aircraft. Hence, he would not be seeing anybody. “So, we were able to carry on with our journey,” says Jayasree. “But the entire discussion took an hour. And all along, I was expecting a U-turn at any time. Nothing is certain when your husband is a politician.”

Interestingly, the couple have no children. And this is a conscious decision that they took soon after their marriage. “We want to be the parents of society,” says Jayasree. “Some of us have a destiny to look after those who have difficulties. So, parenthood would be difficult to do at the same time. But we do feel a pressure from society.” Nevertheless, they have remained firm in their resolve.

Lastly, when asked for tips for a successful marriage, Jayasree says, “Everybody has plus and minus points. We should accept the minus points. If you become friends with your husband, there is a good chance that the marriage will be a success. A sense of equality and mutual respect also helps.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)  
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A Surfeit of Talent

May 28, 2015, 1:04 am
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AR Raihanah, the sister of Oscar winner, AR Rahman, talks about her illustrious sibling, and about her own career as singer and composer

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photos: AR Reihanah. Photo by Melton Antony; AR Rahman (extreme right) with his nephew GV Prakash Kumar at the latter's wedding reception at Chennai  

In July, 2006, music maestro AR Rahman and his troupe were performing at the Hollywood Bowl in Los Angeles, USA. There was a galaxy of singers including Hariharan, Sukwinder Singh, Sadhna Sangram and Rahman's sister AR Raihanah.

Raihanah sang 'Chaiyya Chaiyya' from 'Dil Se'. After the show was over, unknown to Raihanah, the actor Nandita Das was following her in another vehicle. When Raihanah reached the hotel, Nandita went up to her and said, “You blew me away. Your voice was excellent.”

Says a smiling Raihanah, “That was a precious moment for me. There were so many other top singers on stage. Later, I got many compliments for my singing from all over America.”

Raihanah had come to Kochi to take part in the Gurupournami function organised by the Music Directors Union of the Film Employees Federation of Kerala.

And she was in a nostalgic mood, as she recalled her childhood as the daughter of composer RK Shekhar. “There was always music in the house,”she says. “My father could play the harmonium and piano. He was also the first one to get the electronic synthesizer to India from Singapore.”

Raihanah was only three years old when Shekhar taught her the legato and staccato. The legato is a sustained note, while the staccacto is a short note.

“I would say, 'Appa is it a tomato?',” says Raihanah. “And he would have a good laugh.”

Another day, the children – Raihanah, AR Rahman, Fathima and Ishrath – were feeling frustrated at their home, in T. Nagar, Chennai. There was a power cut, and they could not sing. “So Rahman took the guitar, switched on a battery-operated tape recorder, and we all sang 'Jingle Bells',” says Raihanah. “That was a fond memory for me.”

The double Oscar winner, Rahman, looms over their family. Asked to analyse his talent, Raihanah says, “He has been blessed with a God-given talent. There are many music directors who are geniuses. But nobody knows them outside Tamil Nadu. This mass appeal is a divine gift.”

And Raihanah got an inkling of this appeal when she went to see the first show of 'Roja' at the Sathyam Theatre in Chennai. “I was surprised to see that the audience had started clapping when Rahman's name appeared in the credits,” says Raihanah. “This was his first film. But because the songs were released earlier, he had already become popular.”

And Raihanah is also treated differently because she is Rahman's sister. “When somebody introduces me to a great singer, they will politely say, 'Hi',” says Raihanah. “But when they are told I am Rahman's sister, they will say, 'Oh hiiiiiiiiii!!!'. Then their eyes will widen and they will say, 'Oh you are Rahman's sister'. One reason could be because they might have got a singing career because of my brother. Or they may have seen the reach of Rahman.”

But Raihanah is an accomplished artist in her own right. She has sung several songs in Tamil, many of which have become hits. One song, 'Malai Malai', from the film, 'Chocolate', became controverisial because of the double meaning in the lyrics. “I sang it like a college student,” she says.

At present, she has composed five songs for the movie, 'Puriyadha Anandham Pudhidhaga Aarambam'. This film, which will be released in June, stars the singer Krish and is brought out by Ibrahim Rowthar films. She has also composed the music for several other films.

Her son, GV Prakash Kumar, 27, is also an established composer. So far, he has made about 40 songs. “Prakash, like my father, is very fast at composing music,” says Raihanah. “My father was working with 12 music directors at the same time. And, like him, Prakash likes to do melodies. Which is why he is very popular in Kerala.”

Incidentally, Raihanah is selective when it comes to composing. Once a producer went to see her. He took out three CDs from one pocket and three from another and told Reihana that she should copy the music. “I refused,” says Raihanah. “I came to composing out of my passion. So I want to do creative work. Otherwise, I am not interested.”

Asked to give tips to budding composers, Raihanah says, “Please don't copy from others. Let the music come from your soul. Wherever possible use live instruments. Since the music is made by human beings, it is much better than electronic music. Also, live music touches people more. Just because people are moving towards western trends, you don't have to do the same. Keep your mind open for all kinds of music. In the end, we should not lose our identity as Indian musicians.” 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram) 
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The Scarred Psyche of the Nation

May 31, 2015, 10:42 pm
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Artist Riyas Komu's exhibition focuses on the impact of Mahatma Gandhi and the communal riots that have fractured India every now and then

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photo by Ratheesh Sundaram

On Friday, March 12, 1993, thirteen bomb explosions rocked the city of Mumbai. So it was no surprise that the JJ School of Art was closed immediately. But, at 4.30 p.m., the suburban trains began functioning again. So, a young Riyas Komu, and his artist friends, took the train from Victoria Terminus to Bandra where they stayed in a hostel. But when the train stopped at Wadala, there was a shout: “There is a bomb on the train.”

Immediately, people rushed out of the bogies, including Riyas. But when he stepped out of the station Riyas suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to take his rucksack. So he ran back. “The platform was empty,” he says. “The silence was eerie. I remember how fearful I was. Later, it turned out to be a false alarm.”

But those events in Mumbai affected Riyas deeply. “The thoughts and questions which filled my mind then – religion, displacement of people, migration, hatred, and war – are still driving my art today,” he says. “In essence, I began to speak the language of resistance.”

Two decades later, this resistance carries on. His recent exhibition, at Fort Kochi, called 'On International Workers' Day, Gandhi From Kochi', was inaugurated on May 1, with a seminar on the relevance of Gandhi. In it, Riyas has placed five paintings of Gandhi, against a red backdrop, with a lone white star at one side, near the Mahatma's face.

The Gandhi that we see is gap-toothed, bare-chested and frail. The painting is based on a photo taken in 1931, when Gandhi was 62 years old. He was travelling from India to England on a ship to take part in the second Round Table Conference.

Interestingly, above each painting are the words, 'Satya/Perception', 'Ahimsa/Violence', 'Antyodaya/Victim', 'Sarvodaya/Fear' and 'Swaraj/Control'. “I have stated the opposites, because we have let down the great principles of the Mahatma,” says Riyas. “This is my reading of the present situation.”

As for the red background and the star, a smiling Riyas says, “Some people told me that I was trying to make Gandhi a communist. But it is nothing of the sort. Red is the colour of resistance movements. It is also the colour of protest. As for the star, it is a symbol of hope for the future.”

Besides these paintings, in a glass enclosure, Riyas has placed litho stones, thick white slabs, with writings on them, chronicling the several riots that besmirched India, following the 1947 Partition. He has called this segment, 'Stoned Goddesses'. “I wanted to understand the psyche of independent India through important, but cataclysmic events,” says Riyas. “In the process, I have passed through several moments of anguish. And this sorrow is at the heart of much of my work.”

Nevertheless, the Kerala-born Riyas is an optimistic person. After living for 23 years in Mumbai, Riyas, as one of the founders of the Kochi Muziris Biennale, has spent the past four years in Fort Kochi. “This town is a capsule of a larger society,” says Riyas. “It has a great colonial legacy. There are numerous communities living next to each other in peace. And there is an amazing 16 languages which are spoken here. In the end, the people of India will ensure that the country remains united, despite the upheavals that take place every now and then.” 

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)
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Perfect Harmony

June 1, 2015, 10:22 pm
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COLUMN: Spouse's Turn

Harida talks about life with the ace guitarist Baiju Dharmajan

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photos by Melton Antony 

In July, 1991, when the ace guitarist Baiju Dharmajan was standing for elections as secretary for the arts club at the Sree Narayana College, at Maliankara, he approached Harida to get her vote. They were classmates, doing the same economics degree course, but this was the first time they were talking to each other.

For Baiju, it turned out to be a winning campaign. Later, when Harida and her friends wanted to take part in a dance competition at the Inter-College Youth Festival, it was Baiju and his friends who provided the music. And Harida and her group got the first prize.

One day, when they were sitting in the classroom, Baiju told Harida that he liked her. In fact, he wanted to marry her. But Harida felt nervous. Later, she felt that it was impossible. “I belong to a conservative Muslim family, while Baiju is a Hindu,” she says.

Anyway, the college closed for the summer vacation. A few days later, two classmates had a sudden registered marriage. Suddenly, a rumour was spread: Baiju and Harida, both of whom lived in the Vypeen Islands, were also planning something similar. Her parents came to know. They grounded Harida and prevented her from going to college.

One year went past.

Soon, marriage proposals began coming for Harida. Baiju came to know about this.

One day, a couple came to Harida's house. They introduced themselves as Eddie Mathews and Suma Nambiar. They were journalists of a national English magazine. They had come to interview a Muslim family. When Harida met them, she immediately realised that they belonged to her college. When her father, Abdul Salam, went to another room for a brief while, the 'reporters' gave her a letter.

It was from Baiju. The message was stark: she should leave the house, with a bag, at 1.30 a.m., on Friday, May 27, 1994. So, at the exact hour, Harida left the house, through the kitchen door, but not before leaving a note for her father, asking for forgiveness.

Baiju was waiting with a friend outside. They drove to the house of Baiju's friend Sydney at Kottayam. From there they went to a hotel in Thalayolaparambu. And finally, on May 28, the registered marriage took place at Kaduthuruthy.

Meanwhile, when her father got up in the morning, and saw the note, he informed his relatives. “I was told later that they set out in cars and searched far and wide, but could not find us,” says Harida.

Two days later when they returned to Baiju's house, there was a confrontation with Harida's relatives. But, eventually, the relatives had no option but to leave when it became clear that a registered marriage had taken place. Thereafter, the couple have lived in peace ever since. But Harida has paid a price. She has never been to her home in 21 years, although her parents live a few kilometres away. Nor has she seen or spoken to her brother and sister ever since.

Meanwhile, when asked to list her husband's plus points, Harida says, “Baiju is a very loving person. He is also very loyal. As soon as a performance is over, even when he is surrounded by fans, he will call me up. He will also call me just before the show starts. He is an open person and tells me everything. He can be very generous. When somebody needs help he will give money easily.”

His drawback is that, like most artistes, he is not a practical person. “Baiju does not handle the responsibilities of running a house,” says Harida. “That has been my job. He has always focused on the music. Yet, at the same time, he is a disciplined person. He does not drink or smoke. That is one reason why he has been so successful.”

There are other drawbacks, too. “We are both short-tempered, but we make up quickly,” says Harida. “Baiju gets angry over minor matters. It is not easy to be the wife of an artiste. In the early years, there were financial difficulties. But we have all learned to adjust. I don't think many women can handle the stress.”

However, whenever she gets the chance, Harida attends a performance by Baiju. The last one was in September, last year, at the Model Engineering College at Kochi. “I am always amazed when I see Baiju on stage,” she says. “He is a different person altogether. To me, he is a great artiste. After leaving the 'Motherjane' band, I believe he has become a better performer.”

Incidentally, the couple have two children. Daughter Ahana, 19, is doing her MBBS at Palakkad Government College, while Neha, 15, is in Class 10 at Lobelia Higher Secondary school at Nayarambalam.

When asked to give tips for a successful marriage, Harida says, “You should love each other. Nowadays, there is less love. That is why marriages are breaking up. Husband and wife should be sincere. Whenever problems arise in a marriage, there should always be communication between the two. A spouse should also learn to lose once in a while.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)
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Straight From The Heart

June 3, 2015, 9:37 pm
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Lance Miller, a World Champion in Public Speaking, gives a few tips on how to be a good speaker

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photo by Melton Antony 

“I was 26 years old,” said Lance Miller. “I was living in a small town in Indiana. I had a job I did not like. I hadn’t a date in three years. And I had a couple of roommates named Mom and Dad. I felt like my life was going nowhere. So I took control. I left my home and my family and I headed to Los Angeles to start over.”

This partial autobiography, which can be seen on YouTube, was part of Miller’s speech called ‘The Ultimate Question’ which enabled him to win the 2005 World Championship for Public Speaking conducted by the Toastmasters International group, at Toronto, Canada. In the final, there were 10 contestants, although the initial number was 28,000 from over 100 countries. A panel of 20 Toastmasters judged the contestants on speech content, organisation, voice quality and gestures

And to ensure that he had a championship-winning speech, Miller practised relentlessly. “I gave the same speech to 35 toastmaster Clubs,” he says. “Then I got a feedback from the members. Based on that, I kept changing the speech all the time.”

But his success was also based on many years of defeat. Miller lost at the club level for nine years, then at the district level four times, and once in the semi-final. “And each time I lost, it was painful,” he says. “There were a lot of emotions involved, but I learnt valuable lessons. One was to never give up, to keep moving forward.”

Today, Miller is a speech trainer and life coach who travels all over the world teaching people on how to speak correctly. He was in Kochi recently where he was the keynote speaker at the annual conference of District 92, which consists of Toastmasters clubs from Kerala and Karnataka.

Asked about the qualities needed to be a good speaker, Miller says, “Speaking is a muscle. So you have to exercise it. If you don’t do so, it will atrophy and you will lose the skill.”

Another necessary attribute is the ability to project life energy. “You should have enough energy to fill the room,” says Miller. “For a major part of our life we are told to sit still and be quiet. So it takes some practice to get your life energy out. However, you will be able to do so if the message that you are giving is important to you.”

It is also important to be authentic. “Be true to yourself,” says Miller. “Don’t try to be dazzling. Just be the same person on stage that you would be in the hallway. The only difference should be that your energy should be amplified.”

Another important attribute is clarity. “A lot of people are not clear in their own mind about what their speech is all about,” he says. “If it is not clear to you, then it will not be so in the audience’s mind. I have a rule that states that no matter how clear it is in your mind, it is less so in the audience’s mind. So a speech has to be crystal-clear in your mind to get the point across.”

Meanwhile, there are common errors that most speakers make. “People have a tendency to lecture the crowd,” says Miller. “That puts people off. It is better to ‘share’ with the crowd, rather than ‘tell’ or ‘look down’ at them. In other words, you should be natural and humble. Then there are others who give rehearsed speeches. That prevents one from connecting with the audience.”

Since he is so well travelled, Miller is in the right position to compare Asian and Western speakers. “In Asia, English is a second language,” says Miller. “So, the fluency and articulation in English are much less. There is an English dialect for different areas of the world. The local people will understand each other, but many times I cannot do so even though English is my native language. But that is the problem in the West, also. There are several regional accents including a Cockney accent in Britain, which is very difficult to understand.”

But the Toastmasters in Kochi understood Miller very well. “Miller was confidence personified,” says George Thomas, Governor of Division H, District 92. “He showed the importance of natural body language, an expressive face, voice modulation, pauses, eye contact and the use of space on a stage. And he garnished his speech with dashes of humour. It was a great learning opportunity for us.”

However, not all are enamoured of Miller’s way of speaking. Once, Miller noticed a man nodding off at one his speeches. But later, the man re-assured Miller by saying, “L ance, I was listening to your speech. I only had my eyes closed.”

(Published in The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram) 
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Riding like the wind

June 7, 2015, 10:48 pm
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Arun Kottoor is the first Keralite to complete the 200, 300, 400, 600 and 1000 km cycling rides organised by the 100-year-old Audax Cycling Club of Paris. He will take part in the 1200 km ride from Paris to Brest and back

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photo by Ratheesh Sundaram 

Cyclist Arun Kottoor was feeling tense. He was near a town called Vaniyambadi in Tamil Nadu, but was running late. Arun was doing a 300 km bicycle race from Bangalore, in December, 2013, which had to be completed in 20 hours. But suddenly, two youngsters on a motorbike came up and said, “Stop, stop.”

A panic-stricken Arun said, in broken Tamil, “I don't have time. I have to reach the next checkpoint.”

They insisted. But Arun did not stop. So the boys left.

But after five kilometres Arun saw a human chain, formed by 25 youngsters, across the road. “I was forced to come to a stop,” he says. Then Arun noticed the bike riders and realised that they had set it up.

One of them said, “Sorry Sir, but you have to pose with us for photos.”

So Arun had no option but to stop and get his photographs taken. Nevertheless, despite this hindrance, Arun did complete the race on time.

The Kochi-based Arun, 48, is the first Malayali to complete the 200, 300, 400, 600 and 1000 km cycling rides within a stipulated time. All these races are monitored by the 100-year-old Audax Cycling Club of Paris, which organises amateur cycling races all over the world.

And because he did all these races twice, in successive years, he is now eligible to take part in the prestigious 1200 km race from Paris to Brest and back in August this year. The race takes place once in every four years. More than 6000 cyclists from all over the world will be taking part.

A farmer, Arun is training regularly at his cardamom and rubber estates in Idukki and Palakkad. For his races, Arun uses a Lapierre Sensium road bike, which costs Rs 1 lakh. It has a powerful headlight as well as backlight, as well as 20 gears. And to have a safe journey, Arun wears a reflective jacket.

Before setting out on a race, Arun has to do small calculations. “If 300 kms is to be done in 20 hours, this works out to 15 kms per hour, without a stop,” he says. “Since I have to make stops, to buy drinking water, have meals, or repair a puncture, I need to go at 19 km/hour.”

Of course, night riding is difficult. “When I feel drowsy I stop, close my eyes, and rest for five minutes under a shop awning or a bus shelter,” he says. “Then I start cycling again.”

Not surprisingly, cycling is not easy in India. “In Kerala, there is only one four-lane highway, from Mannuthi to Cherthala,” he says. “Otherwise, it is just two lanes. Many times, buses and trucks are right behind me. However, in states like Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh, there are four lanes. So I ride on the edge of the highway, but the traffic is heavy at all times.”

Then there is the heat to contend with. When he was riding in Vijayawada recently, the daytime temperatures had reached 43 degrees Centigrade. “So, you get dehydrated,” says Arun. “I have glucose and a bottle of water every hour.” And every now and then he will pour water over his helmet. “So, when I start riding again, there is a cooling effect on my face,” he says.

Incidentally, Arun began cycling in 2011 when he suffered a ligament tear while playing badminton. The doctors suggested a less hard-impact sport. “So I opted for cycling,” he says, with a smile. 

(A shorter version was published in Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi) 
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Having A Ball

June 8, 2015, 9:52 pm
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COLUMN: Spouse's Turn
Premi talks about life with the former Indian football captain, Jo Paul Ancheri
By Shevlin Sebastian
Photos by Mithun Vinod
When the proposal came, Premy was thrilled, because it was from the family of the famed footballer Jo Paul Ancheri. “I was interested in football, because my father would watch the game on TV,” says Premy. “I was also  excited to meet a celebrity for the first time.”
So, on October 5, 2008, Premy peeped through the first floor window of her house in Pazhanji, Thrissur district, and watched an ash-coloured Qualis enter the courtyard. Jo Paul, the former Indian football captain, was at the wheel. When he stepped out, she saw that he was wearing a blue shirt and a white mundu.
He went a few steps forward and then he turned and went back. Jo Paul had left the keys in the ignition.
While inside the house, Jo Paul enquired about Premy’s job. She was working in the accounts section of the Vikram Sarabhai Space Centre in Thiruvananthapuram. “He asked me whether I was keen to carry on working after marriage,” says Premy. “I said, ‘Yes’.”
And it was also a yes from both sides to the marriage. Two months later, on December 6, Jo Paul asked Premy to meet him in front of the Aswini Hospital in Thrissur. He came in a Maruti Alto car that belonged to his school friend, IM Vijayan, the famed former Indian footballer. They went for a long drive. Jo Paul told her that because of his career, he would be away from home for long periods. Premy agreed to adjust. 

On the way back, they stopped at a roadside juice shop. When Premy took the glass, which contained orange juice, it slipped and the entire contents fell on her. The dress became ruined. “So we went to a Kalyan Silks store,” she says. “But because, it was already in the newspapers that Jo Paul was getting married, he stayed in the car, while I went in, and selected three dresses. Then Jo Paul came in, quickly selected one, and went out. I then paid the money, wore the dress and came out. It is a sweet memory for me.” 

The marriage took place on December 28, 2008, at the Marta Mariam Big Church in Thrissur. At the reception, Jo Paul’s close friend, the actor Kalabhavan Mani sang a song. “But I was in a dazed state that I cannot remember the words at all,” says Premy. 

Another of Jo Paul’s friend, Sudhir, presented her with a large pumpkin saying that he had brought it all the way from his garden in Kannur. “But the joke was on me,” says Premy. “There was a vegetable decoration at the reception hall. Sudhir had just picked the pumpkin from the table and presented it to me.” 

For their honeymoon, the couple went to Kolkata where Jo Paul was the chief coach of the Mohun Bagan Sail Football Academy. They spent their days sight-seeing. One evening, when they stepped out of the Victoria Memorial, Jo Paul asked Premy whether she would like to go on a ride. “That was the first time that I got onto a horse-drawn carriage,” she says. “It was very exciting for me.” 

On another occasion, they went to the hill station of Darjeeling. One day, they got up at 2.30 am and went halfway up the Tiger Hill on a jeep. “Then we got down and had to walk for the rest of the way,” says Premy. “Jo Paul found it easy, but I became breathless soon. It was the first time I was getting up so early. And it was quite cold even though I was wearing two sweaters.” 

But the effort was worth it. They saw the sunrise at 3.40 am. “It was a magical sight to see the sun come over the Kanchenjunga mountains,” she says. 

A few months after her marriage, Premy returned to Thiruvananthapuram, while Jo Paul stayed on in Kolkata. But today, while Premy continues to live in Thiruvananthapuram, with their two children, Christina, 6, and Paul, 1 ½, Jo Paul is the chief coach of the Thrissur-based Red Star Academy. 

Asked about his qualities, Premy says, “Jo Paul is patient, mature and never loses his temper. On the other hand, I get angry very quickly. He is a true friend. If anybody has a problem, whether it is a family member, a relative or a friend, he will go out of his way to help them.” 

This helps Premy in an indirect way. “When my daughter was one year old, she felt down and hurt her jaw and an operation needed to be done,” says Premy. “It was Jo Paul’s friends and their family members who accompanied me to the hospital.” 

But Jo Paul has a weakness: his children. “If our children want something expensive he will buy it for them,” says Premy. “I always tell him that we should only buy what is necessary. If we give whatever they ask, it will spoil them. But he rarely listens to me.” 

Interestingly, when asked whether she has seen Jo Paul play, she shakes her head. “But once I saw a CD of a few matches he played,” she says.  “I got so scared. It is so much a physical sport. I was so glad that I got married to Jo Paul after his career had ended. Otherwise, it would have been so stressful for me.” 

As for tips for a successful marriage, Premy says, “Be honest at all times. This is very important for a successful marriage. Share your thoughts and feelings. That will help develop an understanding of each other. Finally, try to avoid ego battles.” 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram) 
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Kill Or Get Killed

June 11, 2015, 10:01 pm
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Air Vice Marshal M. John (Retd.) has written a racy thriller about the underworld in Mumbai
By Shevlin Sebastian
'When his right hand came up, it had the silenced pistol in it.... his first two shots hit the Joint Commissioner (Jt CP) in the stomach. One shot shattered the spine, and effectively paralysed the Jt CP waist downwards. The lady’s face was frozen in shock, while the girl was on the verge of a scream. He swung the pistol to the right and shot the girl twice in the face. He only had to move the pistol slightly to the left to shoot the lady twice in the face. The silencer was effective, and the ‘phuut’ sounds the shot made would have been barely audible outside the room.’
This is an extract from 'The First Coffin', a quick-paced thriller, written by the Delhi-based Air Vice Marshal M John (Retd). 
The scene described is the murder of Dinesh Cherian, the Joint Commissioner of Mumbai Police (Crime), along with his wife and daughter, by a hitman hired by underworld don Rajesh Devgun. The latter was angered by some of the moves made by Dinesh which hampered his business. 
In fact, the novel has two parallel strands. There is Ranjit Cherian, a carefree young man who is a fighter pilot in the Air Force. He happens to be the son of Dinesh. But he has an unexpected reaction to the murder of his family. He thirsts for revenge against the killers. And then there is Ranjit Jacobs, the hitman, who also has a military background. But he is furious because the Devgun family has not made the full payment for his successful hit. So he is out to take revenge. 

And the novel follows the many experiences that both of them have in the Mumbai underworld. “However, both achieve their aims in a limited manner,” says author John. Nevertheless, the scenes depicted are so vivid and alive that it is a bit of a surprise to know John has had no contact with the criminal elements in Mumbai. 

“Most of the research was done on the Internet,” he says. “I avoided reading the good books on the underworld, like Suketu Mehta’s Maximum City, and Gregory David Robert’s Shantaram, so that I did not get limited in my imagination.” 

John also clarifies that the Don portrayed in his novel is not at all like Dawood Ibrahim or Chhota Rajan. “Most of these underworld gangs have religious or community affiliations,” says John. “So Dawood has a Muslim-only gang, while Chhota Rajan runs a Hindu gang. But the Don in my book does not have any such compartmentalisation. His gang has members of all religions, cultures and communities. I tried to keep out of the stereotypes.” 

There are incidents set in Kerala, highlighting the early life of Ranjit Cherian, vignettes from the National Defence Academy, the pleasures of flying, scenes set in Kashmir, Goa and Thailand, the life of criminals in Mumbai, illegal organ harvesting, the activities of the beggar mafia, the experiences of a starlet who becomes the mistress of a criminal, and encounters with Israeli women tourists. 

The writing is smooth and fluent. And John has a natural talent for story-telling. He might have inherited this trait from his late father, PR John, a Thiruvananthapuram-based bureau chief of a vernacular newspaper. “As a child I would see him walk up and down in his room at night and sometimes talking to himself,” says John. “I believe my father was framing the story that he was planning to write the next day. Surprisingly, I too have the same habit, although I do my thinking sitting down.” 

But by profession John spent 38 years in the Indian Air Force and reached the post of Air Vice Marshal. He had done stints in places as varied as Jamnagar, Jodhpur, Bareilly, Hyderabad, Tezpur, Gwalior, Delhi, and Bagdogra. “I also had a three-year stint in Bangkok, as a Defence Attache attached to the Indian embassy,” he says. 

Following his retirement in 2010, he had a lot of time on his hands. That was when he thought he would try his hand at writing. “I wrote in fits and starts,” says John. “There were days when I would not write. And there were other days when I would write a lot. This is probably not the best way to work.” 

Perhaps that is also why he took four years to finish the book. “Thereafter, I sent it to my daughter and son-in-law who gave me some suggestions,” says John, who did make some changes. The novel is published by Notion Press and is priced at `295. It is available on Amazon, Flipkart, Bookadda, and Infibeam. 

“Thanks to the positive reactions, I am planning to write a sequel,” says John. 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)
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A Forever Love

June 14, 2015, 10:19 pm
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COLUMN: Spouse's Turn

Daisy Luke talks about life with the actor Prem Prakash

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photos by Rajeev Prasad

The first time Daisy Luke saw the actor Prem Prakash was on a stage at the CMS College in Kottayam in 1967. He was singing a Hindi song. “Prem had a beautiful voice,” says Daisy. “At that time, he was one of the most popular singers in the college.”

Prem and Daisy began interacting with each other, because they were members of the Catholic Students Union. “Later, there were musical evenings,” says Daisy. “Prem would tell me about them. So I would go to listen. Sometimes, I would suggest one or two songs which I liked. And he would sing them.”

Since Prem was four years older, soon, he passed out and joined his father's tea business. But one day, in February, 1968, Daisy received a letter at home. It was from Prem. 

“He said he wanted to marry me,” says Daisy. “I liked him but was not ready to say yes. One reason was because I was not keeping well. I had rheumatic fever and had problems with my heart. A valve was not functioning properly. I was not sure what to do.”  

Later, Prem's elder brother, the noted actor, Jose Prakash, came to the house with a formal proposal. “My parents were worried about my health,” says Daisy. “My father said that a doctor must certify that I am okay. Only then would he give the consent for the marriage.”

So Prem, Daisy and her older cousin Mathew went to meet the noted Dr. Sebastian Zacharias in Ernakulam. Several tests were done. After examining the results, Dr. Sebastian pronounced that Daisy was physically fit. “It was only then that we decided to go ahead with the marriage,” says Daisy.

It took place on December 30, 1968, at the Lourdes church in Kottayam. But Daisy was feeling nervous. In the early morning, she cut her forefinger while slicing a vegetable. So, she put a small plaster on it. However, in the church, while she was holding a flower bouquet, some part of it pressed against the plaster. Daisy started bleeding again. “Nobody knew about it, but I felt a slight pain throughout the mass,” she says. It seems to be an early indication of the pain and joy that characterises all marriages.

For their honeymoon, the couple went to Kanyakumari. They went for long walks on the beach and enjoyed the full-moon nights. One evening they sat on the beach and Prem started singing. Soon, a crowd gathered. “Everybody enjoyed Prem’s singing,” says Daisy

It was at the beach that Prem made a solemn promise. “My husband said that every year from now on, we would be celebrating our anniversary at Kanyakumari,” says Daisy. “However, I have not seen Kanyakumari ever since.”

Asked about her husband's plus points, Daisy says, “Prem is a loving person. In fact, he loved his parents more than me. The first day, after our marriage, he told me that I should also love them unreservedly. So, I treated them like my own parents.”

Daisy loves Prem unreservedly, too, and enjoys his sense of humour. “Whenever there is a family gathering, everybody wants him to be present, because he brings it alive with his witticisms,” she says.

As for his negative traits, Prem tends to get tense over the smallest of matters. “On the other hand, I remain cool,” says Daisy, who had been an English literature teacher at the BCM College for Women at Kottayam for three decades.

The couple have three children: Bobby, Sanjay and Thangam. While Bobby and Sanjay are a successful Mollywood scriptwriting team, daughter Thangam is a Singapore-based homemaker.

As a father, Prem is a soft parent. “He has never shouted at the children, nor used the stick,” says Daisy. “I also did not use the stick because Prem would not allow me. But they have all turned out well. We are proud of them.”

Daisy is also proud of Prem's acting in the recently-released film, 'Nirnayakam'. “Prem has an important role,” says Daisy. “The mature artiste in him has come out. He has acted well.”

But, interestingly, for both husband and wife, their most memorable moment had nothing to do with films. It was the birth of their first grandchild, Anjali, on March 19, 2005, at the Matha Hospital, Thellakom, Kottayam.

“Many friends had told me that being a grandparent is the best experience, but I never really understood what they meant, till I held my own grandchild,” says Daisy. “It was a thrilling moment. I believe the reason is because we are there to witness the continuation of the family.” Incidentally, the Prakashes have six grandchildren.

Finally, when asked to give tips for a successful marriage, Daisy says, “In a marriage, you must think more about the partnership than about yourself. That will help you to adjust. There is no love in marriage. Love is in the people. And people have to put it into the marriage. Lastly, spouses should respect each other and their families.”

(Published in The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)


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“A True Leader should be Humble”

June 16, 2015, 10:29 pm
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Says John Samuel, former Chief Post Master General, during a leadership seminar at Kochi

By Shevlin Sebastian

On June 25, 2013, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh and UPA Chairperson Sonia Gandhi were present at Srinagar to release a stamp on renowned Kashmiri poet Ghulam Ahmad Mehjoor. At that time, John Samuel was Chief Post Master General of Jammu and Kashmir.

When Samuel interacted with Sonia, he was taken aback by her humility. “At that time, Sonia was the most powerful woman in India,” says Samuel. “But you never got that impression when you spoke to her. What struck me was how simple and soft-spoken she was.”

The Delhi-based Samuel retired from the postal service in January this year and has embarked on a career to nurture leaders. He came to Kochi recently to give a one-day seminar called 'High Performance Leadership', organised by Ebenezer Holiday Pvt. Ltd.

“Leadership consists of two aspects,” says John. “There should be a high level of professionalism coupled with humility. Both should go together. That should be the aspiration.”

John says that it is very important for leaders to treat staff members as people first and employees second. “Employees are not just happy to get their salary,” he says. “You need to give them dignity and motivate them. You need to make them feel that they are an important part of the organisation. As a government officer, I may not be able to give them more money, but I can make them become responsible people who will be able to serve society well.”

Leadership is also about developing other leaders. “A Managing Director of a company should develop 10 or 20 leaders among the staff,” he says. “Most leaders feel that they will become a threat to his position. But that is not true. If he has fewer leaders, the chances of his company growing are substantially less.”

However, Samuel agrees that it is not easy to develop leaders, because most people shy away from leadership. “Leadership is hard work,” he says. “You are exposed. People can point fingers at you. So, you need to have courage, conviction and confidence. You should be able to say to the staff, 'I have difficulties, I may not be 100 per cent correct, but this is who I am'. But man's tendency is to be a sheep. If somebody else can take the responsibility most people are happy. They want to live a stress-free life without thinking too hard.”

Meanwhile, Samuel is equally aware of the poor quality of leadership in India today. “There are two types of leaders that you see,” he says. “There are leaders who have a passion to transform. And there are others who want to add to their personal wealth. Unfortunately, the majority of leaders are focused on the 'personal gains' approach. We need to change that.”

What is also needed is a changed perception of the bureaucracy in the eyes of the people. “When people interact with the bureaucracy, it is usually with staffers at the lower rungs, like clerks and peons,” he says. “Many have not received any training on how to deal with the public. So people have negative experiences. But in my long career in the bureaucracy, I have noticed that many leaders, at the helm of affairs, like a secretary to the government of India, are doing good work.”

He was particularly impressed with a leader like Gopalkrishna Gandhi, the former Governor of West Bengal. “He is a man of extraordinary vision, professionalism, and humility,” says Samuel, who met him when he was working in Assam. “The governor of Kashmir NN Vohra is also a remarkable man. He is trying to bring about a transformation of society, by bringing all the communities together.”

In fact, seminar participant Anu Abraham Donny remembers a particular incident that Samuel recounted where he was able to bring all the communities together. This happened in Jammu. Samuel wanted to open a post office and he was looking for a ground to have an opening ceremony. But he just could not find one. Eventually, a Muslim approached him and gave him the ground which belonged to a mosque. “The ceremony took place on a Friday,” says Anu. “This showed Samuel's influence on that one man and the community.”

For Anu the take-away from the seminar was a new concept of leadership. “It consisted of the twin qualities of compassion and faithfulness,” she says. “You should go the extra mile for a stranger or an employee. And you have to be truthful in everything you do.”

Incidentally not many will be aware that Samuel was the brains behind the Speed Post scheme which has been running successfully for years. He is the rare leader: one who practices what he preaches. 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)
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Close-ups and Long Range Shots

June 20, 2015, 1:29 am
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The Cineplay, 'Between The Lines', was shown for the first time at Kochi with a screening at the Southern Naval Command. The audience had an enjoyable experience

By Shevlin Sebastian

“Hi, my name is Shekhar Anand and I am a criminal lawyer. You must have heard about the Reddys and the forest scam. Yes I nailed them...And I have a lovely wife Maya. We met in law school.

Maya: I remember the first time we met it was at a debating competition. The topic was, 'What works? Love or arranged marriage?' And both of us were put in the arranged marriage team.

Shekhar: And we won.

Maya: Yes, but only to fall in love the very next week.

Shekhar: But I have to confess. For me, it was during the debate itself.

Maya: And this he told me on the day of the marriage.

Shekhar: And it has been ten wonderful years since.”

These are the beginning dialogues of the gripping Cine Play, 'Between The Lines', which stars Subodh Maskara and his wife Nandita Das. The story is of Shekhar, an ace criminal lawyer, who ends up taking up the case of a man, Mukesh, whose wife, Kavita shoots at him, but he survives. However, in a twist, Maya, who is tackling her first case, after a long hiatus, is fighting on behalf of Kavita. And the tensions in the courtroom inevitably spills over to the home front.

Incidentally, a cineplay is a film made of a play. 'Between The Lines' was shot in five days at a studio in Mumbai. There were close-ups, long-range shots, and multiple takes, just like in a film.And it was shown for the first time in Kochi, before a packed audience, at the Southern Naval Command. And the response was unanimous: it was a good experience.

“I have watched a lot of plays in Mumbai,” says Captain Sanjay Panda. “However, this is the first first time that I am seeing a Cineplay. It was absorbing and gripping. Both Nandita Das and Subodh Maskara were outstanding.The analogy: the difference between reading a physical book and on a Kindle reader. Undoubtedly, a live play is much better. But when you consider that we are in Kochi, and not many theatre groups will come here to perform, this is a good alternative. ”

Another viewer who agreed was teacher Naazli Shah. “Yet, it was a mesmerising experience,” she says. “However, if given an option, I would opt for an actual play. That is because I have seen a lot of plays in places like Mumbai, Kolkata and Delhi. And there is nothing to match a live experience.”

But a CinePlay, Naazli says, is the best way to attract young people. “Many have a feeling that watching plays, rather than films, is a boring way to pass the time,” she says.

But Naazli has the opposite attitude. “A play, when compared to a movie, is a far more enriching experience,” she says. “We spend a lot of money on seeing films, but there is not much of an emotional connect. On the other hand, a theatre experience is magical. You feel connected to the actors, especially if they put up a good performance.”

As for Captain Sanjay, watching a play or a CinePlay is a stress buster. “After a long day at work, this is a nice way to relax,” he says. “Also, you develop empathy for people. Overall, play-watching helps in character development.”

Meanwhile, Anurag Khanna, who is handling the marketing of Cineplays, is ecstatic. “We have got a stupendous response from all over India,” he says. “Cineplays have been shown in clubs, theatres, colleges and cultural centres. Right now, there are 50 distributors who are regularly screening our Cineplays. By the end of the year, the CinePlay would have been shown in 100 cities across India. It is an idea whose time has come.”

(Published in The New Indian Express, Kochi)
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The Paper Tigresses of Kochi

June 21, 2015, 10:03 pm
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To help a friend overcome financial woes, Diwia Thomas began Papertrail, an outfit that makes paper bags and products. Now it is helping hundreds of troubled women to earn a living  

By Shevlin Sebastian 

Photos by Ratheesh Sundaram

One day, in November, 2008, Diwia Thomas dropped in at the home of her friend Susan George (name changed) at Kochi. After a while, she asked Susan for a cup of tea. Susan said that there was no milk. So Diwia replied that she was okay with a cup of black tea. When Susan returned from the kitchen, she said, “You are my closest friend. Why should I hide things from you? We have not had milk for a while. George's business has failed. We are in financial trouble.”

Susan belonged to an upper middle-class family. She could not go for work, because her son went to school at 7 a.m. and returned at 12 p.m. The daughter left at 9 a.m., and returned at 2 p.m. “This meant she had only three hours, from 9 to 12 p.m., to do something,” says Diwia.

An upset Diwia went home and wondered what to do. Then she suddenly remembered that she had learnt paper bag-making in Bangalore, while on a visit, several years ago.

The next morning, she told Susan about this. Susan agreed. Diwia taught her to make them. Within a few days, Susan was able to make 60 bags in three hours. She was paid Rs 2 per bag. And that was how Diwia's outfit, ‘Papertrail’ began.

Today, there are hundreds of women who are making different products: newspaper bags, gift bags, lanterns, gift boxes, coasters, cards and pens made of paper. The products are supplied to restaurants, boutiques and corporates. For example: a leading Japanese car company gives a custom-made art paper bag to their customers. This is made by Papertrail.

“Today, we make about 15,000 bags a month,” says Diwia. She has units in different parts of Kochi. But what is most interesting are the women who work for Papertrail. “They are the battered, abused, and abandoned,” says Diwia. “When a woman is thrown out on the streets by the husband, literally, with only her clothes on her back, she needs money to feed her children. So, we train them to make bags, so that they can earn quickly. ”

Sadly, abuse cuts across all strata of society. Meera Raghavan, 55, (name changed) stays in a tony neighbourhood in Kochi. However, her affluent businessman-husband is estranged from her, even though they are living in the same house. “He does not give any money to Meera,” says Diwia. “So she secretly makes paper bags to get some spending money.” Her only child, a married son, who is working in Australia, is unaware of this.

Asked about the advantages of an all-women workforce, Diwia says, “They are focused, trustworthy and responsible with finances. All the quality control is done by them. I tell them that the customers are theirs, not mine.”

But there are disadvantages, too. “They have mood swings,” says Diwia. “They become easily depressed. They feel a constant pressure from society. For centuries, women have stood beneath men. So they have a social conditioning which tells them that they cannot achieve anything without a man's help. But by doing this work, they develop self-confidence, courage and optimism.”

And Diwia is happy to do her bit. Her grandfather KB Jacob and her grand uncle were freedom fighters and Municipal Chairmen of Fort Kochi, while her father, Santhosh Burleigh, was a councillor of the Cochin Corporation. “We were taught that if you can do something for society, then you are doing something worthwhile,” says Diwia, a web strategist. “For me, Papertrail is my contribution.” 

(A slightly different version was published in Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)
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Down-To-Earth and Natural

June 22, 2015, 10:20 pm
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COLUMN: OUR HOME

Sherly, wife of Benny Behanan, MLA, talks about her house at Thrikakkara

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photos by K. Rajesh Kumar

It is only at 10 p.m. that Benny Behanan, the MLA, gets free. That is when he repairs to his ground-floor bedroom at Thrikkakara. At one side, near the bed, there are two armchairs facing each other, near windows, which open out to a lawn. Wife Sherly sits opposite him. They chat about the events of the day. “It is the only period when we get to spend time with each other,” says Sherly.

It is a spacious bedroom. There are wooden slats placed in triangular and rectangular styles on the wall just above the bed. “These are the remnants from our earlier house, which our architect Suku [Dass] did not want to throw away,” says Sherly.

Indeed, they had been staying in the same area for more than two decades. The initial plan was to renovate the house. But a friend of Benny's suggested that a new house be built, since the original one was below road level. In the end the Behanans agreed with the suggestion. “We did soil-filling at the location, so that the house could reach the road level,” says Suku.

And three years ago, the house came up. The 3200 sq. ft. house has a sloping roof and a wide garage. Sherly had asked for one important attribute: there should be plenty of light inside the house. So Suku opened up a section of the terrace, just above the staircase, and placed a glass pergola. As a result, the sunlight just pours down the stairs. “I wanted to create a play of light and shadow,” says Suku.

And in a rectangle, near the staircase, filled with small rocks, Suku has embedded old bamboo poles and oars. A thick rope is connected to the ceiling. “I put in the ropes to emphasise the height of the stairwell,” says Suku, who got the ropes from a second-hand shop at Mattancherry. These had been used to hold a ship's anchor. The bamboo, which was treated naturally, was sourced from Adimali.

One visible result is that there is, indeed, a lot of light inside the house. “Whenever we go to other homes, I always get a feeling that there is not enough light,” says Sherly.

Among the many rooms, the dining room is the favourite place for Sherly. “Since it is South-facing, there is a lot of breeze in the evenings,” she says. “Tea and conversations takes place here often with family members.”

In the dining room, under the glass-topped table, Suku has embedded several wooden blocks and reepers. “These are the materials of the previous house, which I retained,” he says.

From the kitchen, the living and dining room, as well as the rooms on the first floor, the main gate is easily visible. “My son, Venu, and daughter-in-law are hearing-impaired,” says Sherly. “So Suku has designed it in such a way that they can see the gate at all times.”

On the first floor, in Venu's bedroom, there is a study area at one side. Suku has made a glass skylight on the ceiling so that natural sunlight can light up the room. On the opposite end, of the house, there is a family room which doubles up as a home theatre, with wall-length carpets adorning the floor.

As for Benny's office, it is located on the ground floor, at one side. There is a separate entrance, with inbuilt seats on the verandah. “This ensures our privacy,” says Sherly.

Overall, she is happy with the house. “There is a lot of positive energy inside,” she says. But there are a couple of drawbacks. “There is not much space in front, but the total area is only 11 cents,” says Sherly. “The garage seems to be small now. Again, this is not Suku's fault. We have three cars now.”

Another drawback: the road outside is narrow. So visitors have to park their vehicles on the main road, 50 metres away, if they want to visit the Behanans. “But we have nice neighbours,” says Sherly. “And there is plenty of water in the well.”

One of the first functions to be held in the house was a wedding reception for Venu on December 25, 2012. “[Senior Congress leader] Vayalarji [Ravi] came to the house the previous day,” says Sherly. “He liked the house. In fact, Vayalar Sir's daughter, Lakshmi, wanted to hire the same architect.” 

(Published in The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)
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“Artistes are singing the Songs of the Rulers”

June 24, 2015, 10:57 pm
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Says danseuse Mallika Sarabhai, while inaugurating a poetry installation at Kochi

By Shevlin Sebastian

“I am Bose,” said Bose Krishnamachari, the Kochi Biennale founder, and held out his hand towards eminent danseuse Mallika Sarabhai at the Durbar Hall, Kochi.

“Of course I know who you are,” said a smiling Mallika. “The Biennales have just been wonderful.”

Mallika had come to inaugurate a unique poetry installation, which combined literature, sound, art and culture. She is a striking woman, with high cheekbones and flashing eyes, and with a fashion style of her own: she wore a large earring on one ear and a smaller one in the other, while a several- beaded necklace adorned her neck.

But what she spoke struck at the heart of the state of present-day society. “If you look at the history of any ancient civilization, the arts did two things: the arts educated and it critiqued,” said Mallika. “But somehow, because of the development of a capitalist culture, there is a culture of giving awards, a culture of doling out money, and giving freebies. As a result, the voice of artistes in India has become the voice of advertising. More and more artistes sing the song of the rulers, whether the rulers were kings earlier or politicians now.”

The greater part of the arts today has become uncritical and remains in the realm of safety, she said. “We have lost our voice and have been deafened by noise: intellectual, political and mercantile,” said Mallika. “We study, but we don’t learn. We learn, but we don’t become wiser. We listen but we don’t hear. We have forgotten to listen to either our own truths or the sounds of nature.”

For the audience, who listened raptly, these were disturbing truths in an era of fast living and little inner reflection.

(The New Indian Express, Kochi)
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The Star of Their Publicity Campaigns

June 26, 2015, 5:05 am
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Many top business people in Kerala, like Boby Chemmanur, TS Pattabhiramam, Dr. M M Ramachandran and Beena Kannan, appear regularly in their print and visual media advertisements. They give their reasons for it

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photos: Boby Chemmanur with Diego Maradona; Beena Kannan 

At 9 a.m., on the morning of October 24, 2012, businessman Boby Chemmanur felt extremely tense. He was at a suite of the Blue Nile Hotel in Kannur. Football legend Diego Maradona was sleeping. He had checked in late the previous night after a long flight. But the introduction of Maradona to the people of Kannur was to take place at the Municipal Stadium at 10 a.m. Despite repeated entreaties by Boby and the former footballer's manager, Maradona refused to get up. Instead, he threw a pillow in anger at Boby.

“He asked that the inaugural function be shifted to 4 p.m.,” says Boby. “It came as a shock to me.” Boby switched on the TV and showed Maradona the lakhs of people who were waiting for his arrival.

In the end, Maradona got ready, hugged and kissed Boby and went to the stadium. He danced, sang and did tricks with the football. The crowds were entranced and happy.

Thanks to this unprecedented event, Boby got priceless media coverage. “I have to admit that the sales went up,” he says. “It also led to the development of my business. My own image was projected all over.” Today, Boby's Chemmanur International Jewellers is a RS Iyer​ 2,000-crore group, with branches in Kerala, Tamil Nadu, Maharashtra, and in places like Dubai, Kuwait and Kuala Lumpur.

Later, Boby also did a well publicised 812-km run from Kasaragod to Thiruvananthapuram to spread the message of blood donation in March 2014. “Again it was well received,” he says. And Boby began appearing in his company's ads regularly.

Asked the reason why, he says, “I felt that I would be the best person to promote the brand, as compared to a brand ambassador. I realised that what I say about my products will be accepted by the people. With a brand ambassador the public will always have the feeling that they took money from the sponsor and hence they are promoting the product.”

There are others who are doing the same thing. They include TS Pattabhiramam of Kalyan Silks, Dr. M M Ramachandran of the Atlas Group and Beena Kannan of Seematti.

Whenever customers become aware that Beena is at her Kochi store, they will go to meet her. “They want to know about the new products of Seematti,” she says. “So I will give a detailed explanation. They feel confident about the product, because I am the designer.”

That is how, one day, when she started her own boutique in cotton sarees, Beena decided to appear in the print and visual advertisements. “I felt it would be more authentic if I appear in my own advertisements,” she says.

However, Beena says that she does not want to do it too often as people will get tired of seeing the same person. So, she has taken on brand ambassadors like Lisa Haydon and Urmila Matondkar. “They have their own impact,” she says. “But you need to change your brand ambassadors often, because people want novelty, glamour and new faces. Look at Mollywood. All the heroines keep on changing, but the heroes have remained the same for decades.”

Meanwhile, when asked about the impact from the marketing point of view, US Kutty, Director, Sobhagya Advertising, says, “It was a masterstroke by Boby to bring Maradona to Kerala, especially in the north where there is such a craze for football. By associating with Maradona, Bobby enhanced his personal brand value. And his jewellery firm became famous.”

And when the owner projects himself, a lot of attention falls on the company. Especially if there are many companies selling the same type of product. “So, in that way, Boby Chemannur, Beena Kannan, TS Pattabhiramam and Atlas Ramachandran are doing the right thing,” says Kutty.

Adds Dominic Savio, Vice President, DDB Mudra, South and East: “When the owners appear in their own ads, it definitely adds value to the brand. For example, Beena Kannan is a known face. She is fashionable. Women tend to believe her because she is regarded as an authority on fashion.”

As for TS Pattabhiramam of Kalyan Silks, he has projected himself in a different way. “If you watch the advertisements of Kalyan Silks, he has positioned himself as an authority of silks,” says Dominic. “He is shown as visiting the smallest of villages in the remotest parts of the country in search of the best silks. Therefore, when you buy a product from his shops, you can be rest assured it is going to be pure silk.”

But Kutty says there is a risk involved also. “If something goes wrong, the owner will lose face and his reputation will be damaged forever,” he says. “Take the case of Maggie Noodles. If the company MD had projected himself in the media, it would have ended his career in the company.”

Adds Dominic: “The convicted Ramalinga Raju has not only destroyed his own image but also of Satyam Computers which had once been a savvy IT firm.” 

(Published in The New Indian Express, Kochi, Thiruvananthapuram and Kozhikode) 
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Something Unique About It

June 29, 2015, 12:26 am
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For the first time in India, a poetry installation, combining sound and sculpture, took place at the Durbar Hall Art Gallery, Kochi

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photos: The horse installation; the man; (from left) P Raveendranath, S. Kalesh, George Gabriel, Vinod Krishna and Renganaath Ravee. Photos by Ratheesh Sundaram

When the eminent danseuse Mallika Sarabhai placed her hands around a globe hanging between the head and tail of a horse sculpture at the Durbar Hall Art Gallery, Kochi, the voice of poet Ajeesh Dasan could be heard on the speaker system.

“The horse declared:
I am the National Animal
My ancestors took part in the freedom struggle.
I am not applying for a pension
As I do not have any certificate.
“Other animals stood around the horse
The elephant, the ass, the giraffe,
The peacock, the boar, the lion.”

A shrill neighing sound of a horse was heard on the soundtrack. Expectedly, this was followed by the angry roar of a tiger (India's National Animal), not happy at the desire of the horse to replace him. Thereafter, there was the rumble of an elephant, as well as the grunts of the ass and boar.

The poem ended with the chilling sound of a cage closing. “The zoo-keeper comes up and calmly pushes the horse into the cage,” says Ajeesh. “People are also getting caged and losing their freedom.”

For the audience, which included the former Education Minister MA Baby, the deputy mayor of the Cochin Corporation, Bhadra Satish, artist Bose Krishnamachari, the tribal activist CK Janu, and actor Joy Mathews, this was an unique experience. Not surprisingly, they listened in rapt attention. This is the first time in India that a poetry installation has been done.

Some time ago, when film-maker Vinod Krishna read Ajeesh’s poem, 'Deseeya Mrigam' (National Animal), he was reminded of the late American chess genius Bobby Fischer. “The Cold War was taking place between America and Russia, but Bobby was a man who did not believe in boundaries,” says Vinod. “The horse is also like that.”

But man is bound by too many restrictions and boundaries. “A human being cannot go anywhere without a passport,” says Vinod. “We have so many cards: Aadhar, Ration and the Unique Identity Card. But we come to the earth without any document. In the end, we become victims of the corporate culture and those who want to rule over us.”

One day, Vinod felt that there was a scope to do something with it. And that is how he came up with the idea of an installation. But he wondered how to get the funds for it. When he broached the idea to his lawyer-friend, P. Raveendranath, the latter immediately contributed Rs 1.5 lakh. The remaining Rs 1.5 lakh was got through individual contributions as well as loans.

Incidentally, the rearing-up horse, made by the sculptor Gabriel George, is 70 per cent iron, while the rest is foam and scrap.

The second installation, again made by Gabriel, is of a man lying down, his body shaped like a microphone, but with several loudspeakers attached to his body. The poem, 'Sabda Mahasamudram' (Ocean of voices), is by the talented poet S. Kalesh.

Here is the first stanza:

'A man, rankled
by his own sound
about to sculpt
a stout silence and play
suddenly one day
found himself ringed
by a herd of puny
little sounds.'

“The rulers are telling us what to do and what not to do,” says Kalesh. “And this is represented by the loudspeakers. The person represents the common man who is unable to talk back. We have so many things to say, but are not able to do so. Today, along with this loss of freedom, there is a simultaneous rise of fascism. We no longer have an individuality.”

In order to bring attention to the project, Vinod decided to rope in a celebrity. So, he sent the images, as well as the concept, to actors Nandita Das, Shabana Azmi and the activist Mallika Sarabhai. “All of them expressed an interest and said they would be willing to come to Kochi,” says Vinod. “But, when the hall was booked, only Mallika was free to come.”

Apart from Mallika, many ordinary people, too, also came. One morning, a 34-year-old physically challenged man arrived in a wheelchair. “He had been to many art shows,” says Vinod. “But after listening to the two poems, he suddenly felt a desire to stand up and walk. This was the first time he was experiencing this feeling. I was deeply moved by this.”

Interestingly, Vinod says it was the youngsters and women who enjoyed the show the most. “Many women told me that they felt a mental release when they heard the poems and saw the installations,” says Vinod. “I think it is because they have been suppressed for so long.”

Says the Mumbai-based Renganaath Ravee, the sound designer for the project: “Everybody wants to experience something new. In India, movies and TV serials are the only forms of entertainment. The traditional art forms are not moving with the times. Maybe, that is why there has been such a positive response to our show.” 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram) 
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Many Moods of The Master

June 30, 2015, 9:55 pm
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​Top Karnataka director Girish Kasaravalli has made an absorbing 90-minute documentary on Adoor Gopalakrishnan, one of Kerala's great directors

By Shevlin Sebastian 

Photo by Ratheesh Sundaram

One day, a couple of years ago, V.S. Kundu, the Director-General of the Films Division of India called top Karnataka director Girish Kasaravalli and gave him a proposal: could he do a 90 minute documentary on Adoor Gopalakrishnan, one of Kerala's great directors. Kasaravalli was hesitant. “I am a feature film director,” he says. “Documentaries are not my domain.” But, later, Gopalakrishnan called Kasaravalli up and said, “It will be a different type of documentary if you do it.”

Encouraged, Kasaravalli got down to work. He read many articles and interviews of Adoor, as well as two books: 'Adoor Gopalakrishnan: A Life In Cinema' by journalist Gautam Bhaskaran and a book of essays called 'A Door to Adoor', which was brought out by the South Asian Foundation. "I also viewed his films repeatedly to form an understanding of his work,” says Kasaravalli. “Unlike me, Adoor is a minimalist. He has been influenced a lot by Kathakali, which also uses a minimalistic approach.”

After working on the script for one-and-a-half years, the film was shot over a 30-day period in Thiruvananthapuram and its environs. And the end result, 'Images and Reflections: A Journey into Adoor's Imagery', is an absorbing one. Not surprisingly, there are several distinguished talking heads: the historian KN Panikkar, acclaimed directors Shyam Benegal and Mrinal Sen, the veteran Malayali actor, KPAC Lalitha, senior Kerala-based journalists CS Venkiteswaran and Gouridasan Nair, Gopalakrishnan's daughter, Aswathi Dorje, and, not to forget, the maestro himself.
But it is the Mumbai-based Uma D'Cunha, who does the English subtitles of Gopalakrishnan's films, who caught his personality well. “Adoor looks like a humble person but inside he has an immense confidence,” says Uma. “It is the simplicity in which he tells the story, the way he presents human beings, with all their feelings that somehow the politics does not take centre stage. What takes centre stage is the human being. Therefore, they have a powerful impact on the viewer.” 
And, rightly, Kasaravalli has focused on the acclaimed films like 'Elippathayam', 'Mukhamukham', 'Anantaram', 'Mathilukal', 'Kathapurushan' and 'Naalu Pennungal'.

The film is also studded with insights by Gopalakrishnan himself. Here is one about endings in films: “One of the difficulties I face is that the audience wants everything to be told, so that they can forget about it. But I want them to take the ideas home and ruminate over it. At the end of each film, I don't say this is all. Life goes on. This is only one ending that I have given. But there are several endings.”

Unusually, Gopalakrishan's daughter, Aswathi, talks about her father's childhood. “My father grew up in a joint family, where there were several uncles, aunts, cousins, and other relatives,” she says. “It was an environment which allowed him a lot of freedom. In a house which was full of children, nobody paid attention to him. It allowed a lot of room for creativity to come in.”

Kasaravalli has to be complimented for the manner in which he has been able to draw out all the participants including Gopalakrishnan himself. “Adoor is a warm person,” says Kasaravalli. “He is very committed to his art. But more than anything, Adoor is very accommodative. We vibed very well. I found the exercise of making the film very fruitful.” 

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)
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A Rescue In The Nick Of Time

July 1, 2015, 10:14 pm
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Radhika Menon, the first woman captain of the Indian Merchant Navy, orchestrates rescue of stranded fishermen off the coast of Orissa

By Shevlin Sebastian

At noon, on June 22, second officer Manoj Chauhan, of the ship, 'Sampurna Swarajya', noticed a boat two-and-a-half kms away, off the coast of Gopalpur, Orissa. Owing to a deep depression there were fierce winds and rains. The wind speed was 60 to 70 knots, while the waves rose to a height of 25-27 feet. As a result, the boat was being tossed up and down.

Manoj informed Radhika Menon, the first woman captain of the Indian Merchant Navy. “When I looked through my binoculars, they were waving their shirts and clearly asking for help,” says Radhika, who is from Kodungallur, Kochi.

She immediately ordered a rescue operation. “We put out the pilot ladder, and kept on standby, life jackets and buoys,” says Radhika. Because of the turbulent sea, it took three attempts before all seven were rescued.

The fishermen, who ranged in age from the 15-year old Perla Mahesh to Narasimha Murthy, 50, were in bad shape. They were weak, starving and frightened. The food and water had been washed away. They survived by sucking on ice cubes from the cold storage, which is used for preserving the fish.

They were from Kakinada and had set out on the night of June 16. “Suddenly, the weather turned bad,” says Radhika. “Then the engine failed. So they decided to anchor the boat. Unfortunately, they lost the anchor, and were drifting for six days, before we spotted them.”

At their homes, their families had given up hope. They were sure the fishermen has drowned. Tents had been erected outside their homes to conduct funeral ceremonies. So, it came as a big shock when the fishermen were able to talk to their families through satellite phone and convey the good news that they were alive. Eventually, they were reunited with their families on June 29, when the ship berthed at Vishakapatnam.

“It was the humane thing to do,” says Radhika. “They told me that if we had not spotted them, they would have died. Which is probably true.” 

(Page 1, New Indian Express, Kerala editions)
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A Multi-Dimensional Icon

July 2, 2015, 9:58 pm
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Lawyer K. V. Prakash has brought out a 85-minute documentary on the life and times of the late Justice VR Krishna Iyer

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photos: K.V. Prakash -- Photo by Suresh Napoothiri; Cover of the DVD

When lawyer K. V. Prakash approached Justice VR Krishna Iyer to make a documentary on his life, the latter got very excited. It was a couple of months before his 100th birthday, on November 15, 2014. But Prakash needed funds to do the filming. So he and Justice T.V. Ramakrishnan (Retd.) drafted a letter. It was shown to Iyer. He made some changes.

A list of 28 senior lawyers in the Supreme Court, as well as the High Court of Kerala was made. They included people like Soli Sorabjee, Fali S Nariman, Harish Salve, Gopal Subramaniam, and Indira Jaisingh. But then suddenly Iyer fell ill. “He could no longer sign letters,” says Prakash. “I was in a dilemma on what to do.”
 
Prakash decided to seek divine guidance. So, one morning, he went to the Ganapati temple at Edapally and offered a ‘Mrthvinjaya Homam’ in the name of Iyer. When he returned home, Prakash closed his eyes and took out one letter from among the 28. It turned out to be that of Harish Salve, senior advocate of the Supreme Court of India.

Thereafter, Prakash took the letter and met Iyer at the hospital. And, somehow, even though the eminent judge was gravely ill, he managed to sign the letter in a shaky handwriting that went from the left to the middle of the page.

Thereafter, the letter was sent to Salve. And then the miracle happened. Salve, who admired Iyer immensely, agreed to fund the entire film.

On April 7, 2015, the 85-minute documentary, 'Life A Saga', was released by Ashok Bhushan, the Chief Justice of the Kerala High Court. “The film traces Iyer's life from the room he was born in, at the village of Shekharipuram in Palakkad, to his cremation in Kochi,” says Prakash.

There are scenes set in his father's native place of Vaidyanathapuram. Iyer's father was a successful lawyer as well as a social activist. “In 1920, his father was the only one to own a Ford car in the area,” says Prakash.

Iyer began his legal career as an apprentice in the Calicut Court. Much later, in Tellicherry, his career gathered steam. Soon, he built a house on eight acres of land, facing the sea. However, when he got selected as a member of the Law Commission in Delhi, Iyer decided to sell the house. The buyer was the Catholic Bishop of Tellicherry.

At the Bishop's House, Mar George Valiamattam told Prakash that Iyer had showed the file which contained the entire expense of constructing the house. “He said, ‘Look at the amount I spent on the house and just give me that, along with the land value shown in the sale deed',” says Prakash. “And he kept his word and took that amount only. There was no profit for Iyer.”

In Delhi, as a member of the Law Commission, his main contribution was in providing legal aid to the poor. Later, when Iyer was appointed as a Supreme Court judge, he made landmark judgements on several subjects, like interpreting the powers of the Cabinet with that of the President, and gender discrimination. In the latter case, C.B. Muthammawas denied promotion to the post of Foreign Secretary because of her gender. But Iyer sided with her.

Not surprisingly, he has many admirers. In the film, Harish Salve says, “Justice Krishna Iyer is a remarkable son of India, whether as a politician, minister, lawyer, judge, and, after his retirement, as a jurist, social activist and a conscience-keeper of the nation.”

Former IG of Prisons Kiran Bedi said that, at Tihar Jail, she followed all the recommendations of the judgement made by Iyer regarding the proper treatment of prisoners.

Meanwhile, Prakash has some interesting moments during the shoot. He went to Salem to find the house where Iyer met his wife Sharada for the first time.

“Sharada came from a good family,” says Prakash. “Her father Parameshwar Iyer was a munsiff at Tellicherry court. Iyer won a case there. An impressed Parameshwar decided he should become his son-in-law. However, by that time, Parameshwar was transferred to Salem as a sub-judge.”

In Salem, nobody could point out to Prakash the house where the sub-judge stayed. “In those days, the judges travelled in horse-drawn carriages,” says Prakash. “And these horses could not travel more than ten kilometres in one direction. I met all the people above 80 years who lived in a diameter of 10 kms around the court. But nobody could identify the house.”

However, on the fourth day, a woman, in her nineties, remembered the sub-judge and knew where he lived. “And that was how I finally located the house,” says Prakash, with a smile. “The scene lasts only a few seconds on the screen.”

Asked about the quality that he most admired in Iyer, Prakash says, “He was always courageous. Most judges, when they are close to retirement, will plan on getting an assignment from the government. But Iyer Sir never cared for that. The law, he always said, should be for the benefit of the people.” 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram) 
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