SriMurugan

SriMurugan: Again a former boss and the period relate to 2000 where I was web-consultant and SriMurugan the man at the helm of the Chennai branch. Datamatics Staffing Services is a recruitment company headquartered in Mumbai and led by the venerable Bhatia. During the interview, Bhatia felt that I could contribute contents for their website than a recruitment consultant almost creating a position for me on first sight.

The office is on Cathedral Road opposite AVM marriage hall and Saravana Bhavan. The traffic is dense and shrill horns of passing vehicles a regular nuisance. SriMurugan managed a team of 6 people and apart from a trigger hungry, smart mouth he had little to recommend. SriMurugan was in his early 30s, his wife was in JWT and that implied a western lifestyle, and two tiny tots for a family picture.

He was tall and sturdy too, the circular face shone with the brightness of his eyes and spectacles, a rather large nose and puffed-up cheeks. He dresses in nothing less than a Louis Philippe and Colour Plus trousers; shirts in bright colours and those contrasts well on his fair complexion and the gold chain would glisten in richness. The gait is hurried as if a storm an impending storm and he talks in the manner of an excited child.

SriMurugan drove a Toyota even then and residing on Chamiers Road, one of the richest neighbourhood in Madras; surely something he cannot manage on his Datamatics salary. His father was a retired police commissioner and he must have really filled up his pockets. SriMurugan had that politician quality; ever willing to take charge, more than willing to mentor others, and assume a leadership position almost to a grabbing hurry. He is your big “anna”; you can say those ribald jokes and in trouble run to him for cover. But once you cross the man, he’ll ensure your early demise.  

SriMurugan attended many of those meaningless seminars and distributed his visiting cards to every passerby so as to get theirs in return. In fact he demanded those and the acquired cards would go into those folders and come in handy during an executive search. SriMurugan had over 35 folders and he never allowed anyone in the team to come anywhere near them. There were his property and bread and butter.  

Each evening he went to the washroom and spent over 30 minutes decking himself for the evening. The face would be scrubbed of any oil and grime with a Pears soap, then he would powder it to complete the chore. He is an handsome man no doubt and this daily ritual is to go to Boat’s Club direct from the office and drink to his neck with his friends.  

SriMurugan also had the habit collecting paper cuttings of management articles and re-cycled them to Indian Express where his acquaintance manned the weekend desk after re-phrasing them suitably. Those articles on publication would be stuck with pins on the soft-board on the background of his desk thus creating a great impact in the visitors. SriMurugan was miles ahead in smartness.  

Despite all these imperfections, he laughed to a guffaw, knew just the right word to say for the occasion, and drove his cars like crazy and a man of tremendous energy.

Verdict: Rajas

Lesson to be learnt: These characters are the backbone of our society and it pays to keep them in good humour. What’s more, it does not take much effort either.  

Sanjay Boo

Sanjay Wadhwani: I worked with him in Triton Communications, Mumbai for 3 months in 1996. So gory was the experience that I can’t still remove him entirely out of my mind.

Sanjay is a typical Punjabi, more bluster than substance and raw aggression. He was face was a tanned wheat colour complexion, a narrow face, a Hitler mustache and heavy eyebrows, and the most detestable character formiles around.  He was loud and heartily laugh at his own jokes. People humoured him or kept a safe distance and there was a devilish streak about him.

Sanjay was a womanizer and his jokes to the secretaries were almost an invitation,” The client who came now for a meeting is so fat and I have also seen his wife, who is too obese for words. I wonder how they make it in the night”. The young girls would laugh and by which time his hands would be on their shoulder!!! Sanjay jokes would never rise beyond a candom or the shack.  

How would you know that you have arrived or reached the top position at office? One can measure it on the size of the car or the house but my true index is that you can “shout” at office and others have no recourse but to bear it. Sanjay was the ‘General Manager” and he ruled most vociferously. Unlike Minnie whose only stock weapon at work were a few tantrums, Sanjay was more adept and cunning. He could joke, cajole, browbeat and throw the kitchen-sinker and that too with a devil’s glee.

Sanjay is a case of smart operator getting very lucky. He had no superior “ advertising” skills (I don’t think that he can prepare one strategic document) but he knew how to “present” creative to clients almost theatrically. He was just in his mid- 30s and dressed gaudily; there was almost a touch of comedy. He had just got his Maruti Esteem (in 1996!!!) and the way he flaunted by smoking inside the car as it carried an electronic lighter; he was very much the nouveau rich Punju!! His success in Mumbai can only be ascribed to “Punjabi Pluck”.  

Sanjay got away even from murder as he proudly demonstrated his humour. He recounted his client meeting at Pune to those assembled,” It was late in the evening when I went to pick Dharma up. He was so dark that I couldn’t make out at a distance until he flashed those white teeth of his”. Dharma was much respected media head and this “racist” remark from a Punjabi to a Tamilian is no surprise at all.

A very attractive girl joined my team and Sanjay immediately started to sniff around. I advised her,” Each time you talk to Wadhwani fellow, mention your husband in your conversation”. She was not married but nonetheless kept referring to her non-existent husband and buy her safety.  

I had quite a few well-worshippers in the agency and many would say,” In a client meeting, don’t speak much and never match up to Sanjay. He can swing the axe anytime and you won’t know what hit you”. Luckily he didn’t swing the axe but I nevertheless quit. The agency vibrated of a ruckus murder scene; and my nightmares full of Sanjay pulling the noose down. I have never seen a person so purposely and decisively evil. Sanjay is capable of murder or a rape such was his high octane levels for mischief.

Verdict: Tamas

Lesson to be learnt: Just keep away and no benefit will accrue from such characters.

Minnie Bahen

Minnie Menon: I only met her in 1994 and thankfully never since. She was my boss of three months at Artig Advertising and those memories are still fresh in the mind.

Minnie looked groomed and though in sarees, you can make out that there was a lot of fashion element and painstaking effort in her make-up. Her hair was a schoolboy cut though it bounced enough in the front as she walked. Minnie was Caucasian fair in complexion, a long face, long nose, eyes bunched close together and the cheeks compressed to resemble a horse’s head. You can spot a light layer of make-up and an international perfume around her. Minnie dressed to expose a bit of cleavage and her footwear were those fancy leather slip-ons that come with high heals.

            Minnie was a terror at work and her tantrums a folklore in Madras Advertising circles. Artig is a second agency of O &M and they really wanted it to be like Contract to JWT. But this agency never took root and we were saddled with very small and insignificant brands. Minnie was married to Mohan Menon, a lifelong O & M executive and he headed their Chennai operations. With that connection, for Minnie the top honchos of Ogilvy were just family friends.  

The office was in Egmore and the driver came in to drop to lunch box at the madam trailed behind. Even at the sight, the office went silent not knowing when the firecrackers would burst. She shouted to hysteria for little of no reason at all. First there was not much work to do but this woman’s antics had us all on our toes. She had a penchant for western names in the office; Chandrasekar became “Clint” and “Harish” became “Harry” and that even gave the agency a lot of style!!! I had given my name as “A S Narayanan” here and even now my ears scorch with her shrill calls so much that never again did I introduce myself to that abridged name to anyone. “Sathyanarayanan” would have surely become ‘Sam” here.

Minnie was a party animal and knew how to hold her drink or dance on the floor. I still remember this 40 year old in “tights’ in body hugging clothes and dance to even nursery rhymes like a rabbit; making faces while circling the partner. Even if she was in such mood, people kept far away and guarded. She would explode anytime. (BTW, why do I get such psychos as my boss all the time?). But she was gifted with a typical Mallu gene; she knew where her anger could work or who would take it. In front of O&M honchos she would be all saccharine. Minnie knew which way the winds blew and aligned her sails to her best advantage. There was no class about her at all except thrusting herself in limelight.

These days I see her pictures in page 3 and she is a socialite almost on the scale of Pameshwar Godrej. Her daughter is Lolo, famous for Mallu gags on television. She is on board of a management school, hops of from parties to parties, has a column in Indian Express, and part of the Chennai glitterati. Not bad for a Mallu in a Tamil land. Not all those fancy dresses and foreign perfume and trinkets ever added an ounce of class and grace though.

Verdict: Rajas

Lesson to be learnt: Just keep away and no benefit will accrue from such a character except a headache and suffer her bloated ego. 

Rediffusion Sonny

Sonny Deenadayalan: He is a vague memory from the Rediffusion days in 2000. Sonny makes for a great first impression: he is tall and Dravidian dark, hair sticks on its end like bristles, a lean long face, dressed mostly in jeans over a half-sleeve shirt in bright checks, and a mouth that drips honey. He talks Queen’s English with perfect accent, not a foul word would escape him. And when I found that I was in his team, I was overjoyed at first.

Rediffusion was the agency for Citibank and it was a curse that never slackened every day, and every hour of my stint. It is marriage of two elephants; one a monolith and as international and a hierarchy longer than the number of carriages of a superfast train. So an advertising layout would go through each layer and each one had to offer a suggestion or critique to justify their existence. It’s that typical glib talking crowd at Citibank and it is here that Sonny found his mark.

Sonny knew more about Citibank than their staff at Madras. He knew all the international guidelines of colours to be used, logo size, and half a dozen details that are mandatory. If “Sauvé” needs a human representation, it would be Sonny. He kept everyone – the whole hierarchy of executives at the Bank, the Branch Manager at the agency, the production guys, and even the mercurial Umita in good humour; a task no less Sisyphean.

The entire office on Shakti Towers smelled like that of a Congress party; there were rumours floating everywhere, people were getting chopped and sliced that not many survived the first 3 months (I certainly didn’t!!), gossip and tantrums. Just walking into office at 10 in the morning and you could sense a war waiting to erupt and a head about to be severed; frankly I have not seen an office that bode so much ill-will even when silent. But Sonny not only survived here but thrived too. He must do well in hell too.

Sonny was my reporting boss and he was quite co-operative one initially. Payal, a junior executive was his favourite, he went out of his way to shield her. She was a bright woman herself and ensured that she was not harassed by the system. As for me, I never fitted into the mould – I neither appealed to the client nor my tummy take kindly to Umita’s outbursts- and soon drifted to such a depression that my own words started to come in sputters and sounded alien to the ears. I was crumbling and sensibly walked out of the place.  

Sonny carried that elegance even in his cabin; they would be table lamp with a shade, nice choice curtains, some paintings, and even a tape recorder when the man was in a mood for music. We all worked long hours in humouring the client though the work we did was meager and mediocre. Sonny had worked in Far East and with that clipped American accent there was a feminine streak him; metrosexual. He was man who was punctilious in sending bouquets to his wife on her birthday, wedding day, and Valentines. I would often overhear him cochie-cooeing on the phone, “Nands (westernized for Nandini!!!), did you get that from the bakery?” Sonny is frightfully western to the last gene and so much so that his original name “Venkatesh Deenadayalan” had officially changed to “Sonny Deenadayalan”. And when he spoke in Tamil it sounded as if from a Yankee’s lips.

He resides in Thiruvanmiyur and I frequently see him on his Kinetic Honda (things like that add to the feminine touch!!) but I don’t stop to recognize and greet. There is a washed up feeling about the man but as a survivor he was supremely gifted. If you planning a Sahara expedition or to the Antarctic, I would heartily recommend the bloke. 

Verdict: Rajas

Lesson to be learnt: Corporate Survival Skills.

Sailor Krishnan

M C Krishanan: I first met Krishnan in 1998 soon after my heart surgery when I was in a phase of regular walks for an exercise. I would trek over 10 kms a day and it soon became a ritual as I discovered the beauty and tranquility of Theosophical Society. I soon joined a regular gang and the mornings were full of banter and bawdy jokes.

Krishnan is in his early 50s with a sailing experience of over 20 years. These sailors’ make a cool Rs.20 lacs in a year working for 6 months a year and the rest in complete idleness with little to engage them. This guy was enterprising with a couple of internet cafes and a 10 acre farm for paddy cultivation to keep him occupied when on land.

He is heavily built with handsome features: the eyes in sea water blue, a huge forehead, sculpted nose, and a majestic vestige for a personality. Wont to walk furiously in Bermuda shorts and the face shone brighter due to a dabbed vibhuti on a fair skin. He really looked as majestic a character from those Cecil De’Melle characters in the film “Moses”. He would by his sheer physique draw a crowd. And when he opened his mouth, he could raise a laugh with his earthy jokes in chaste Madurai Tamil in our group. He was a fun person to be and his jokes were ribald as can be. Sample this: When I married my wife and squeezed my wife’s boobs the first time, I washed my hands afterwards. But that doesn’t deter me from washing hands everyday!!!! Or when a singer sang on a high pitch he famously commented,” Her husband must be bitten her in various places and so the voice emanates deep from the abdomen”.  For his rich man, he was extremely modest and did not throw his weight around at all; in fact he made self-deprecatory jokes and kept everyone in good humour.

He really loved his life on the sea for most parts of the year. He would regale us with tales from the sea and it could get instructional at times. Once he said,” I was devoted to my wife with the chastity of Sita until the time she lost interest in sex. Only when I was 48, I discovered lust on the seas”. He would now only identify various ports with names of various women. “Oh my god, the Spanish women are the best in bed and they must all come to Madras and hold a training centre for our women”.

When I wanted to start an enterprise I turned to him. Though that venture failed miserably and there was a lot of bad blood, he is not the person you can avoid or be angry for long. Krishnan had this devastating wit about him. I was in his house when his schoolgoing daughter had an exam to crack. The father blessed her,” Sit behind the brightest of the lot and copy well”. His wife was one of the smartest I have seen and she can match wits with 10 men at one go and come out trumps.

Krishnan has done splendidly well family-wise; his eldest daughter is in USA from her under graduation days and now on the way to completing her Ph.D. This second daughter has just joined college and she is an accomplished Bharatnatyam dancer already with a gala “arangatram” last year. His assets must gross over 10 crores easily and given Krishnan’s affable nature and a nose of business opportunity, he can only add to the pile.

Krishnan loves Tamil literature and he would be engrossed on them on his sea voyages. He had a spiritual bent of mind and he could quote his “Thirukural” as good as the best. It is a pleasure to bang into him in a temple; a vesti and those vibhuti on a forehead never looked better.  

Verdict: Sattvic

Lesson to be learnt: Krishnan conceals a fantastic brain behind an affable nature. 

Umita Deora

Umita Deora: Umita was the creative director at Rediffusion and a colleague in 2000. The Chennai branch was on the upswing with key accounts like Citibank, Taj Hotels and Thomson TV and so crème le crème of Mumbai branch came to Chennai to provide that expertise.

Umita was quite short probably just measuring a 5’ or even lower, she was lean and perfect figure, and wore those T-shirts and long shirts over body hugging trouser. Her hair was circular and perms for a Sai Baba hairdo, the Marathi face very fair and gloss, a snout nose, sharp gleaming eyes and a small chin. Umita was good looking for a 30 year old woman and invariably dressed in trousers and sporting a Nike or Reebok for footwear. She looked more a schoolgirl than a topnotch professional.

Umita was the dreaded political animal at work. She was quite a competent copywriter and ruled a team of around 10 juniors with a fist hand. She would shout hysterically, throw layouts, and she had the gift of the gab. Umita could even get angry with a power client like Citibank but she was smart: she knew to whom to get angry and how far to go. A similar situation with a powerful authority on the other side and she would more likely see humour.

Umita just about knew to what extent people would tolerate her tantrums and used that to cement her authority. People in client servicing like me or in the creative wouldn’t last 3 months under this torture and we nicknamed her “Amma” after a similar Jayalalitha. But it was only Ajit who cracked the puzzle. He sported a huge grin and not allow the words of torment to affect him. He not only survived the daily manslaughter at Rediffusion but became one of her favourite subordinates.

Umita was not all that evil and knew how to turn on the charms too. She would take her team to Landmark and gift them books of their choice and later treat them to sumptuous dinner. Umita was grossing over a lac of rupees as salary (in 2000!!) and a furnished apartment and she could afford to have her liquor in Taj Connemara in style and no need to practice parsimony. There were two or three expats from Mumbai and Umita settled in Chennai the best. She spent her weekends on violin tuitions and did not fly back to Mumbai at the first opportunity.

Umita had a huge executive room and she would often lock the door and so none knew what was cooking there; possibly even a hot intimate encounter as rumour mills would have it. Not surprising for Umita was as liberated as anyone could be!!

For a power-hungry tyrant, Umita had a pronounced stutter. Sometimes the words would get stuck and she would “try” repeating them all over again without losing her nerves. But she never flinched in embarrassment or covered it up. For a chic modern woman in lipstick and make-up, this can be a nightmare situation but she braved it out. Her modern western image – cigarettes, swearing, dressing, liqueur etc was not a put on but a genuine act.

Umita was a chain smoker despite her asthma and I had been witness to a severe attack once when the whole office felt grave that she might pass over. Umita was a tomboy; she strode down the staircase in a jaunty way. She was as moody as anyone but she could laugh the loudest too.

Last heard from Ajit when in Bahrain in 2003, the news was Umita married a Tamil Brahmin and now based somewhere in Cairo. Umita is a kind of person who can thrive in anywhere; more than decent copywriting skills, she was a hound with great political and survival skills.

Verdict: Rajasic

Lessons to be learnt:  Such people are usually the opinion makers; get on their right side!!!

John Kuruvilla

John Kuruvilla: I have worked in over 20 companies but there was none who could run John even close on sheer class and managerial ability; he had the kind of personality self-help authors would approve enthusiastically. I first met him in June, 1994 while awaiting him for a job interview and he saw me an hour later. He was profusely apologetic and attributed it to a sudden client meeting.

The written test was even more foreboding but at the end, I heard John’s sonorous voice on the phone,” I am going to make you a job offer. You will start at a 4 K package and is it okay? Then come and meet us in the evening”.

John explained,” From the test you have some potential but a long way to go. You will be working with the best advertising talent in the city and not many people have survived the 6 month hurdle. So, help you God”.        

The office was in Lavelle Road, that runs left of the famed Richmond circle and it is a two-storey building. All the cabins were in grey decolam sheets with a red horizontal life, the office looked a MNC. Behind the receptionist stood a tall painting of J Walter Thompson in a grey beard, sailor uniform, and a cigar. John had a separate room for himself and from where he ruled the office with an iron fist.

John was only 32 and already a Vice-President of a large advertising firm. He was nearly 6’ in height though stout for a healthy buffalo look, dark complexion, short hairs, square face, and a very prominent mustache. When he spoke, it was almost studio quality loud. I have never seen a person generate this kind of charisma before even at a glance. He looks a military commander out to inspect a parade in an office setting.

Contract was the ideal office I have worked; one cannot talk loudly on the phone and disturb others in the vicinity, a telephone etiquette I have not found elsewhere. Two, one cannot read newspapers and magazine – as an agency they get every possible trash – during office hours except the lunch hour. At the register, one has to log out the “in” and “out” time. As a client executive, you cannot brief creative unless the T-plan was approved by the reporting head; the creative team must visit retail outlets with a camera in tow once a month. Contract was so full of rules but that showed a kind of professional excellence I have not seen hence in other places.  

John would come in his Gypsy (that vehicle suited his huge figure to a T) at 8’0clock to the office and be the last to go at 7 or 8 in the evening. John used me for those consumer surveys and I can claim to have walked every bye lane of commercial Bangalore. He would command,” Sathya, draft a questionnaire for a perceptual study of HMT watches”. I would report back within half-an-hour and even with brief glance at the printout, he would squeeze it to a ball and throw it into a bin. “Try again and this time more slowly,” I would retreat much chastened. I would consult other colleagues, dust off books from college days, call up friends and come up with a better effort. Then John would scrutinize,” For this objective, why this question?” You were left in doubt that you were in the midst of a master. John even explained,” I am not a singer, dancer, athlete, painter, broker anything in life. I am an advertising person and let me be the best in the city”.

This passion for excellence had rubbed to every member of the team; Saurabh was the best account executive in town, Sudhir the best account planner, Ganesh Shenoy the best media planner, Swami was making waves in direct marketing, Amit Kumar the production guy, and Nishad a good hand at copy.   In my 25 years of work experience, never has a team with such skills and expertise gather in one place. You could see sparks of brilliance in the air. We could have sent a man to a moon with such attitudes and discipline.

Most of the senior executives lectured at IIMs or other management colleges as visiting faculties and  it was the only time I saw “advertising” to be intellectually stimulating. I just worked there for 3 months but those were the most memorable part of my work-life.

As for me I was a wild rough diamond that John and his team polished me for life. The three months stint in Contract, Bangalore got me so drilled in the “Thompson way and the T-plan” that you wake me up in midnight and I’ll hold a seminar on Single-minded proposition, target audience, brand image and brand positioning and all that crap.

Post Script (2017): John did correspond to my blogs and I even mailed across my “Darling India”. I follow him on Facebook and he still has that magnetic presence about him. On the career front, he ventured into new territories like startups. As a marketing man, there was simply no one quite like him. He steels himself to a goal and spares no effort in accomplishing them and what’s more he usually succeeds.

Verdict: Sattvic

Lessons to be learnt:  One in a million professional; make for good friends and learning

Bimal Nair

Bimal Nair: I have never encountered a man with a better gift of the gab. It was 2003 when I first chanced across him in an interview situation. Bimal was the Vice-President, Contract Advertising and I was the perennial job seeker. The interview went over 2 hours and at the end of it he was addressing me with a “Bahenchod” which meant that I was his yari dost and in his circle now. He made a job offer which I greedily accepted.

Bimal was short at 5’6” but a white complexion made his features stand out; a long face, flat nose, eyes pressed together, eyebrows that ran across the temple and getting weaker at the centre. His fat face and quick mouth made him look like a gang leader.   

When Bimal spoke it was like a mellifluous song. He really had the gift of narration; you can pay to listen to his tales of his NCC training or going to Canada on a government grant or his disappointment of not making it to the Air Force due to short stature. He has got that raconteur’s skill to tell a story with passion and histrionics. Later I found that he had a stock of half-a-dozen stories in which he would dish it out to anyone in the circle and each time the rendition would be just as fresh. Maybe, he used them as icebreakers.

At work, he was the monarch of all that he surveyed. There are few people in India who can match his expertise in “Direct Marketing”. Despite being a Vice-President and heading a branch, he had the friendliest of contour; he would constantly use “Bachenchod” – more a sign of being friendly than use it as an abuse. To be fair even when others returned the compliment, he did not push rank.

There was always something of an explosive about to burst with him around. He was agitated more than his share for such a top executive. He came to Madras for his first independent charge and messed it up big time; he sacked over a dozen people inside of two months and after the bloodbath there was no peace of security for the rest. Like, he hired me for an “Account Planner” position and less than a month served me the pink slip. It was this whimsical behaviour that scared the wits out of others.

Bimal had a kind of mouth that will serve him and others even in a hijack situation. He had the brain of a suave jackal – you can assign him to negotiate with terrorist in a hijack situation. But on the surface, he plays the clown: you will see him an excited teenager kicking imaginary footballs in the office corridors or pumping his fists on winning a new account. But be wary, one never knows when he decides to press the trigger for those bombs under the hood (the Airforce blues might still be bugging him) to explode.

I recollect a meeting when we were on the back-foot with a client and Bimal spoke over 2 hours non-stop and he got what he wanted after that marathon effort. Bimal is a kind of fellow who will lunch at the Oberoi’s and put his arm around the valet. He had an adventurous streak about him and coochie-cooed most of time with his wife in the privacy of his large executive room. He worked long hours and had an instinct to mentor someone; except he never found the right bloke.

He is one of those visiting faculties at IIMs on advertising and direct marketing and you can be sure that he would be the most popular of the faculty or be on email basis with the new crowd. He can dazzle someone out of their wits in the initial days!!! His computer screen would have his family album; his wife and daughter images flying across the screen or his various medals and prizes he had won including one at Cannes.

To my mind, Bimal will always be the quintessential Mallu; he was way too smart that it scared the wits of those around. More than a consummate survivor, he was a cunning jackal. It's this Bimal Nair to whom the two monkeys approached to sit in judgment on the share of the catch.

Verdict: Rajas

Lessons to be learnt:  Such people are socially very popular and play to game smart. Which means rein in your mouth. 

Srinivasan

K Srinivasan: He got married to Viji 25 years ago in 1983 and even today I don’t claim to know where I stand with him or figured his personality. Sometimes he is too morose for speech and at times so loquacious that it does not add up. I guess such randomness runs in his family; all the 3 sons kept away from the father not out of fear or respect but a defect in the gene. The brothers themselves are not known to talk amongst themselves nor with the 2 sisters. But they ceremoniously get together for weddings, festivals, and even minor functions. Again something I can’t put a finger to except that side of the family is ritualistic to a sickening degree.

Srinivasan was a clerk in United Bank of India, a nationalized bank headquartered in Calcutta at the time of marriage in 1983. Almost predictably, Viji delivered a child inside the first year of marriage. Srinivasan is short at 5’6”, a small face with hair turned upwards for a bit of rock look, a long nose, fair “Brahmin” complexion, and conspicuous black rimmed spectacles. The jaws almost make a triangle for a distinct mould. Srinivasan can be full of gaiety and dry humour or switch to the morose look and crib about life in general.

He is another of those unfortunate men who signed off his freedom to his obese wife. He goes to the bank and works a full day quota, gets the pay packet, and surrenders it to his wife. He is no patience for planning expenses and what does the stupid wife do? Impute a miser reputation to him!i Maybe it’s got something to do with him switching off the room AC on waking up or changing TV channels when watching in a group.

He is quite adaptable for a simple, Brahmin boy who grew up in Madras. He endeared himself on a long stint at Kendrapara in Orissa that lasted 6 years before metro postings in Bangalore, Mumbai and now in hometown Chennai. Srinivasan is in his early 50s and yet he looks a schoolboy. He is as spry as a squirrel and can’t remain still; on Sundays he would clean the house or arrange old cupboards or nothing else dissemble the motorcycle and then learn to put it back. At Mumbai, he made it a habit of visiting Prabhadevi temple taking a bus from Santa Cruz almost every Sunday. That way, he is very religious and god-fearing.

There is a lot of feminine streak in him once he begins to complain. He is man of regular habits, and out of his comfort zone hopelessly lost. Even a small ripple can rattle him; at Mumbai one of his colleagues cheated the bank of over 25 lacs and there were thorough investigations. Srinivasan though his hands were squeaky clean lost sleep and peace so much so that this had become his obsession. He would ask in the manner of a child,” How can anyone not trust a colleague?” He was lost without his wife and only when she took up residence in Mumbai a year later after settling the children’s education that he breathed a sigh of relief. He believes her implicitly,” Had she been around, she would have spelt a rat from far”. He was proud of Viji’s sharp brain and her selfish self-possessive streak.

Srinivasan can be very witty at times. The way he analyzed Mumbai as a city or how the girls there dressed or how snotty women in ponytails running to climb a moving train can be hilarious. He is die-hard tamilian; he will only see those Crazy Mohan serials or anything dished in Sun TV. He is sleeps on the sofa and early to rise. He is the one to go out to procure the milk sachets or buy the day’s vegetables or the newspapers. The rest of the chores – children’s education, investing, major purchases are leased to his fat wife. Both the sons adore their mother more than the father since she relates better. This is one typical Tamil Brahmin family in which the lady dominates a very decent but docile man.

Post Script (2017): For a long time he used to say: Sathi, when are you going to win the Pulitzer award? He had a high regard for me before I lost it in the 2015-16 depression years.  Now retired he still goes to a 9 to 5 job working for an auditor at one-fifth his bank salary. He is an active man; can’t sit idle for gossip or television soaps. Both my brother-in-laws are weak men; they don’t spare a word on my suffering. Of course they have seen depression from close quarters; Srinivasan dad suffered for a decade but yet those lessons have not been learnt.  Both Srinivsan and Basker turn a blind eye to anything discomfiting; the pains of others don’t stick to them.

Verdict: Rajas

Lessons to be learnt:  A regular Johnny and no real passions or hobbies. Unlike Ramani, Srinivasan would not even make a good neighbour or colleague.  

Ramani Chittappa

Ramani,: My dad’s 3^rd brother and my most favourite chittappa. His first job was in Bangalore in the last sixties and ever since, he has made the city his own while the other brothers were in one way or the other are tied to Madras.

Ramani is short at 5’5” – Gavaskar height- a long and puffed up face, fair “Brahmin” complexion, bushel of a mustache but neatly trimmed, dark eyes, and he was always groomed. He would shop at Ulsoor market in the mornings for the day’s vegetables in his white vesti and a full-sleeve shirt nicely rolled up to the elbows in the mid-70s. There is always a sartorial elegance about the man.

He was writing accounts in a petrol bunk; so low was his start in B’lore and he has worked his way inch by inch. First he commuted on a bicycle to work, 5 years later came the luna, then another decent interval for a Bajaj scooter in my growing years from 1975 to 1983 before finally accomplishing the car.

Ramani is a sunshine personality, talk elaborately to make his point and test the listener’s patience. But the smile and affability more than compensated. He was the brightest spark of my growing years. I would be taken to Bangalore for the annual two months vacations and he was always gracious enough to take us – his eldest brother’s offsprings- either to a hotel or a movie. It was during the one such vacation he got married to Sundari in 1975 and his affections transferred now to this wife.

Looking back, he had a room for himself that hung a huge portrait of Ganesha on wall and he was finicky laying out the cotton beds in tender care for the night especially after his wedding. We would love to lie down there but he would have none of it; he was newly married.

Ramani worked for Aviation Travels and he was making a pile handling accounts of Singapore Airlines and Lufthansa. He has purchased a lot of plots in Bangalore and his wife had a suspicious streak about her; they never shared any such news with other members of the family for fear of envy and “evil eye”. They did not have any issue till the 7^th year of marriage and by which time both the couple had exhausted the gods and astrologers.

I loved him heart and soul as only a little boy of seven would. My father had no time or energy for me while Ramani looked a debonair and savvy uncle. His wife also went to work and she would give me written assignments from my school textbooks and be thrilled on finding that I had indeed completed all of them. She looked a doll and maybe, I was half in love with her too.

First my grandmother died followed by grandfather a year later. 5 years on and my father passed over. A relation in which my father spoke to him almost on a weekly basis even in those days of stiff STD rates, it surprised me that he made no effort to maintain relations with the family. I was appalled to see him placid when informed that dad had cancer and had only a few months to survive. Slowly we drifted to such an extent that I stopped bothering to call or visit them even on chance Bangalore visits.

He is too busy with his two kids and he is another of those typical North Arcot men who can’t see beyond his family.  

Post Script (2017): Everyone going to Bangalore just stopped halting at his residence even if they had to engage a hotel for an overnight stay. The couple had earned a bad reputation for hospitality. He met with an accident in 1993 when he fell off a scooter trying to avoid a stray dog-maybe the mind got affected and his speeches longer!

            He has grown richer over the years, both his son and daughter married and in the USA. Chittappa and Chitti visited me last month at Besant Nagar and at once my heart was filled with warmth. He observed tragically: Earlier Bangalore was the corporate office and now it is not even a branch office.

Verdict: Rajas

Lessons to be learnt:  A regular Johnny and no real passions or hobbies. Ramani can be a reliable neighbour and a colleague.