The Elephant God

A walk down memory lane it is for me on this Festival Day, far away from the Family who I celebrated it with the most part of growing years and enjoyed each moment of it.

The night prior to the day of the Festival is a time of Creative Expressions. The Design & Decoration of the Makar is an expression of competition with the so-called neighbors. Not that anyone in the Family was creative enough, so the readymade Makar available commercially had to sneak in escaping the prowling eyes of the affluent neighbors. The arduous task of attaching the puzzling pieces was a part of the creative endeavor.

As being a torchbearer of generation next, it was a privilege given to me to put the puzzle Together. Dad used to circle around the Room glancing at every aspect of the creative process waiting for the slightest opportunity of a mistake being committed. Occasionally temperament used to flare up as the Makar would tilt downwards, with no one willing to lend a helping hand lest it messes up. Amidst all the chaos, the decorations be completed around midnight and each one would observe it from their respective angular positions so to affirm the completion. It seemed like a collective achievement for the Family and assured of a good night’s rest ahead.

An early morning wake-up call, a cup of Kapi (filter coffee) and the silk dhotis would be handed over so to signal an early morning shower and adorning them in a traditional way so to be all ready for the traditional puja. Mom would get up earlier than usual so to make arrangements for the feast ahead that would be offered as Naivedhyam to the Lord first and then be served to us. It was indeed a festive time, as each one of us would help to Mom, which hitherto never happened before. Dad would be scrapping coconut; I would be chopping vegetables and my younger sister overseeing the operations.

Then as to signal the traditional aspect that Brahmin’s follow, especially the Muhurtam, the sacred puja begins. The decibel levels as for my Father reciting the shlokas and his new found Brahmanism, almost inciting the neighbors to take note of the noise pollution, and with me dutifully showering flowers of the Idol at times and sometimes repeating the Shlokas with him was a sight to behold.

The moment my Dad would feel hungry smelling the feast, the speed of recitation would increase dramatically. That is when my Mom would intrude in and reset the tempo.

My sister would step in and help light the incense sticks. She behaved as if she knew the traditions and amidst all of it, I was the lost Brahmin. Managing the silk lungi, reciting the Shlokas with speed and élan was all I had to do.

Soon, the story of Lord Ganesha’s life would unfold, and my Father would enact those instances with the finesse of a performer. Infact the end of the story would mean the offering of the Naivedhyam and thereafter the serving of the feast to the Brahmin. Only that in this case, the performing Brahmin was my dearest Pa. His eyes would light up, as the traditional Rice Modak’s arrive for offering the Naivedhyam. After the serving of the feast, it would be time of discussion as to the commercial aspect that has crept into the traditional way of worship and how important it is for us to retain our sense of identity.

Looking down Memory Lane, I know not whether we have managed to retain our identity, yet are certain, we have come a long way to embrace the metropolitan way of enjoying the Festival.

Om Sri Ganeshaya Namah

The Monkey and the Crocodile

Once upon a time, a clever monkey lived in a tree that bore juicy, red rose apples. He was very happy. 

One fine day, a crocodile swam up to that tree and told the monkey that he had travelled a long distance and was in search of food as he was very hungry. The kind monkey offered him a few rose apples. The crocodile enjoyed them very much and asked the monkey whether he could come again for some more fruit. The generous monkey happily agreed. 

The crocodile returned the next day. And the next. And the next one after that. Soon the two became very good friends. They discussed their lives, their friends and family, like all friends do. The crocodile told the monkey that he had a wife and that they lived on the other side of the river. So the kind monkey offered him some extra rose apples to take home to his wife. The crocodile’s wife loved the rose apples and made her husband promise to get her some every day. 

Meanwhile, the friendship between the monkey and the crocodile deepened as they spent more and more time together. The crocodile’s wife started getting jealous. She wanted to put an end to this friendship. So she pretended that she could not believe that her husband could be friends with a monkey. Her husband tried to convince her that he and the monkey shared a true friendship. The crocodile’s wife thought to herself that if the monkey lived on a diet of rose monkeys, his flesh would be very sweet. So she asked the crocodile to invite the monkey to their house. 

The crocodile was not happy about this. He tried to make the excuse that it would be difficult to get the monkey across the river. But his wife was determined to eat the monkey’s flesh. So she thought of a plan. 

One day, she pretended to be very ill and told the crocodile that the doctor said that she would only recover if she ate a monkey’s heart. If her husband wanted to save her life, he must bring her his friend’s heart. 

The crocodile was aghast. He was in a dilemma. On the one hand, he loved his friend. On the other, he could not possibly let his wife die. The crocodile’s wife threatened him saying that if he did not get her the monkey’s heart, she would surely die. 

So the crocodile went to the rose apple tree and invited the monkey to come home to meet his wife. He told the monkey that he could ride across the river on the crocodile’s back. The monkey happily agreed. As they reached the middle of the river, the crocodile began to sink. The frightened monkey asked him why he was doing that. The crocodile explained that he would have to kill the monkey to save his wife’s life. The clever monkey told him that he would gladly give up his heart to save the life of the crocodile’s wife, but he had left his heart behind in the rose apple tree. He asked the crocodile to make haste and turn back so that the monkey could go get his heart from the apple tree. 

The silly crocodile quickly swam back to the rose apple tree. The monkey scampered up the tree to safety. He told the crocodile to tell his wicked wife that she had married the biggest fool in the world. 

Faster Loading of Firefox Browser

Firefox may run quickly but it loads slowly; here’s how to fix it

Note: This tip is not suitable for inexperienced computer users.

You can slash Firefox’s slow load time by compressing the DLLs and executables. There are many choices for compression but I suggest you use UPX which is free, efficient and time proven.

1. Download UPX from http://upx.sourceforge.net/#download

2. Unzip upx.exe into your Firefox installation folder which is normally C:\Program Files\Mozilla Firefox.

3. Make sure Firefox is not running then shell to a command prompt in the Firefox installation directory.

4. Type in the following command in a single line and hit return:

for %v in (*.exe *.dll components\*.dll plugins\*.dll) do upx “C:\Program Files\Mozilla Firefox\%v”

5. If on some later occasion you want to unpack the files, just type in the command above but add the decompression switch “-d” after “do upx.”