Humorous tale of an up-to-date Ajji

By Gouri Satya

• Title: Once upon a time Bangalore: Ajji & Other Tales
• Author: E. R. Ramachandran
• Pages: 250+IV
• Price: Rs. 230
• Publisher:  New Wave Books, Basavanagudi, Bangalore

To err is human, said someone who perhaps was prone to commit errors.

But to ERR, all capital letters? Is it Blunder, again with a capital B?

No way, Sir.

Here, to ERR is humour. And that is E.R. Ramachandran’s forte.”  Says H.N. Ananda in his foreword to this book.

This forte of Ramachandran is seen in his latest work on Bangalore, how it was a few decades ago, before the exponential rise in infrastructure and the advent of IT industries. Ramachandran sees Bangalore through the eyes of his Ajji, his grandmother, when it was a beautiful city of pensioners and office and factory-goers in a relaxed daily routine.

Ramachandran is Ramu for his Ajji. His Ajji is both traditional and modern. An up-to-date Ajji, she is abreast of happenings all around. She goes to Harikathe or to listen to the Dhanurmasa Pravachana and chants Lalitha Sahasranama in her unique way. Her life does not stop at that. Having learned computer basics, she is an expert in WhatsApp and Facebook. Her friends are Software Seethamma and Hardware Hemalatha Bai. She takes them on an online Yatra to pilgrim places.

Aware of the latest develop-ments, she passes cryptic comments on subjects like cricket and IPL, on the ‘foolish idea’ of building a statue on the seismologically-sensitive area near the Krishna Raja Sagar (KRS) Dam, on the rights of an MP or an MLA, or about the World Bank food politics. For that matter of fact, on any subject under the sun.

Age is no bar for her. Her comments are sharp and sarcastic; her target is the ‘good for nothing’ Ramu. Her comments reveal her wisdom and provide humour for us, the reader. With his two books where Ajji is the chief character, Ramachandran has immortalised his Ajji.

In those days, Ajji was the most affectionate person for children in a family. Grand-children could talk to her freely, while they had  reservation with their parents. There was an emotional empathy between the two which built a special bond between them. Even if she admonished them, she would do it lovingly and later pamper them with Kodubale or Chakli kept hidden in her bamboo basket, her treasure chest of Ayurvedic herbs and medicines. 

When humour has become a rare commodity today, this book comes as solace and entertains one who is looking for humour in Ramachandran’s inimitable style. He freely uses Kannada words and gives his writings a local flavour. We see the influence of his uncle, T.P. Kailasam, the father of Kannada humour, Kannada Prahasana Pitamaha, in his writings. 

Ramachandran is known for his humour writing. He regularly contributes to Aparanji, the humour magazine, and Kenda Sampige. He writes columns for News18.com, CNN, IBN, Cricket Next, etc. He was writing for the Star of Mysore eveninger and Churumuri blog also. This is his second book and the first one in English. It is a compilation of articles he wrote in newspapers, magazines, and dot.coms over the years. Earlier, he wrote a book in Kannada, ‘Up-to-date Ajji and other Stories.’ Recently, Mysore Akashavani serialised 13 stories from his book as Radio skits.     

In his latest work, Rama-chandran presents a kaleido-scopic view of Bengaluru. But that Bangalore he writes about is of yesteryears, which every Bangalorean, if not others who visited that charming city those days, loved and admired. A visit to Krishna Bhavan or Vidyarthi Bhavan, or a leisurely walk in Basavanagudi or Malleswaram, or the long wait for the BTS bus, or a visit to the Cantonment in the evenings to stand near the barricades after a gulp of hot coffee at Coffee Board’s Coffee Shop or window shopping “to see the Bangalore belles passing on the path giggling, talking tantalisingly with their friends to raise the youngsters’ heart beats”, was a must and unforgettable. A visit to Bengaluru was incomplete without a visit to the Cantonment.

Ramachandran gives us a nostalgic narration of all these and more of his days in Bangalore, now Bengaluru. What is to be admired is his memory. He lists all the places and their location as he travels by Route No. 11 of the Bangalore Transport Service which operated between Gandhi Bazar and Malleswaram 18th Cross and Route No. 16 which linked the city and Cantonment, the two parts of Bangalore. These two city routes of the Bangalore Transport Service, popularly known as BTS, were the two lifelines of then Bangalore. He is happy Basavanagudi still has retained some old Bangalore charm.  He recalls the Satyanarayana temple, near the Sajjan Rao Choultry, came much later “as politicians became more corrupt.”

For a Sivaji film, screened at Shivaji Theatre which no longer exists, “taking two or three handkerchiefs was mandatory because he made you cry in buckets,” and “much later, those who helped God to do His work went to Vidhana Soudha and they are still partners in His unfinished business.” There are many more such humour-titbits in his stories.  

There are a few serious stories as well in this book, some of which are real with names changed. They are tales of courage and grit of those facing bone-chilling adversity, he writes in his Preface. Ramachandran has dedicated his compilation to the memory of his mother, Annapurna, and special children “for their epic struggle in the transformation from hopelessness to one of triumph, a few I was privileged to experience through their teachers and my wife, Maya.”

If you want to know what was Bangalore’s old-world charm spiced with Ajji’s humorous comments while talking to her grandson, read “Once upon a time Bangalore — Ajji & Other Tales.”