The amazing adventures continue with No Kaam Sene

Part I : The amazing adventures of Eve Rao and Ever Reddy
Before Eve knew it, her honeymoon was over. Both were quick comers. And didn’t know what to do after the romp.
Married life was a radical change for Eve. It wasn’t just the change from East Coast to West Coast. Not just the Bay of Bengal-Arabian Sea problem. She had been married into a Reddy family transplanted from Cudappah (which is famous for land-grabbing, murders, extortions, so on and so forth) to Mangalore. A family that read only Deccan Herald. And that made Eve Reddy feel icky. She yearned for The New Indian Express, which is published from 14 centres and has a formidable presence in south India.
Days after Eve and Ever returned from their honeymoon in Karwar (beautiful place, an hour from Goa), she could still smell the feni-and-fanta on Ever. And she hated it. Just like the 501 pataka beedi that he was so fond of. She tried to point it out to Ever Reddy but he was never ready to listen.
Sitting in a corner after Ever Reddy had done his thing, Eve caught sight of The New Indian Express. Ever had brought fried fish head for her, and wrapped it in her favourite newspaper, not realizing Eve’s life was to change forever.
Eve started withdrawing into a shell from that day on. The sex was still A-class but the nagging had begun. She used to scold Ever for sitting around paan shops, playing cards and smoking his 501 pataka beedi. Ever was an unskilled labourer and his services could be availed by anyone on payment of Rs 100. Sometimes, he would get a bottle of the local brew as well.
Eve wanted him to get a pucca job and not hang around all day with rowdy elements (that’s the favourite phrase in south India) of the No Kaam Sene. But Ever would have none of it. He liked his saffron-clad buddies. And the going was good, he often told her.
“Look, Oriyas are coming here in their droves. They are taking over all our fishing jobs. They want to work hard. Let them. All we need to do is slap them around for our hafta. We are the nakaam sene (it was the No Kaam Sene, but Ever was never good at pronounciation).”
The No Kaam Sene had been observing for a while that young men and women were coming from “naarth India” to study at Manipal University and were going to pubs and bars.
No Kaam Sene had to contend with “apna haath jagannath” (loosely translated: self service) when these young men and women were free to change partners and were enjoying themselves. There was also another dimension to the hole (okay, whole) problem: No Kaam Sene had been inspired by the BJP and wanted to use Hindutva to get a seat in Parliament or the local legislature. That inter-caste marriages had wrecked the social fabric of Mangalore was an added advantage. They found just the right ingredient to start a fire.
One fine day, members of the No Kaam Sene decided to attack a church (out you beef-eating, pork-chomping, Bible-reading, peace-loving guys, they said) in a very peaceful neighbourhood in Mangalore. That had a domino effect. Soon, churches were being attacked in Bangalore and the No Kaam Sene had finally found a cause.
When Eve got to know of Ever’s role in the attack, she questioned him once. She had had Christian friends in school and knew it was wrong. The second time she pointed it out to him was when Ever went limp in bed.
“See this is because you attacked all those innocent people. God is punishing you.”
Hearing Eve make fun of her masculinity, Ever beat her black and blue. And he quite liked it. No resistance, he thought. Those Oriyas sometimes hit back, he said to himself.
And then it became a regular affair. He was practicing for bigger things in life, Ever told Eve.
Once when he demanded that Eve spread her legs for her, she refused.
“Never, Reddy,” she thought, and after being beaten black and blue, went to sleep. Next morning, before Ever could wake up, she was gone. Forever.
“Who needs a man anyway.” she said, thinking about the article she had read in The New Indian Express, which is published from 14 centres and has a formidable presence in south India. She had read that sperm cells could be produced from a woman’s bone marrow and -- technically -- there was no need for a man for getting pregnant.
In fact, it was this development that had got the No Kaam Sene worried. And that is why they had decided to attack churches (the West – and Christian doctors -- had made the discovery).
Ever was a little distraught after Eve left. Now he became Ever Reddy to attack women.
One fine evening, he and other members of No Kaam Sene assembled outside a pub which had became the rage within about 20 days of its launch. It was called something, but I forget.
Ever’s practice came in handy. He entered the pub, murmured a prayer with his friends and then went on the rampage. He slapped a couple of girls around. Unluckily for him, at least two of them turned out to be daughters of VIPs, one of them the ward of a friend of Women and Child Development Minister Renuka Chowdhury’s. Soon, national media was condemning the attack on women in Mangalore. Ever was picked up for questioning and sent to judicial custody. No Kaam Sene suddenly had a lot of work to do – torch buses, damage trucks, attack pubs.
Ever had suddenly become a national hero (or villain, depends on which way you look at it).

Tomorrow: The rise and rise of Ever and No Kaam Sene

The amazing adventures of Eve Rao and Ever Reddy

Eve Rao had a simple life. Growing up in Kadambadi, some 90 km from Chennai, paddy fields, the sun-kissed land and the frothing sea were her constant companion. Eve was growing into a beautiful young lady, just like the land she tilled – tender, fertile and ripe for harvesting. By day, Eve would dream about her knight in shining armour, striding through the paddy fields (which had windmills, by the way), making a mess of the harvest and sweeping her off her feet. Her long, coconut oil-smeared hair would flow with the breeze as the horse and her knight (who turned out to be a lanky, mundu-wearing, paan-chewing, drinking-himself-silly dark chap) galloped into the fields. By night, she would dream about getting wet in the paddy fields with her amorous lover, making love, and a lot of noise, under the stars.
Her heart missed a beat one fine Wednesday morning when her father announced that he had fixed a match for her. Eve started thinking about a man with broad shoulders and a broader outlook. Eve was no big fan of Tamil movies (which was kind of strange) but she did often fantasise about singing and dancing around trees and changing her outfit with each changing stanza.
At this point, it is necessary to describe Eve a little better to ensure continuity of this story. The dimple-on-her-chin-devil-within girl loved reading. Her favourite newspaper was The New Indian Express, which, by the way, is published from 14 centres in India and has a formidable reach in South India. She did not particularly like the Deccan Chronicle, riddled as it was with poor grammar. ToI had not yet come to Tamil Nadu even though it had grand plans (she called it cock-teasing, God knows why). The Hindu was seriously good -- it never failed to put her to sleep and was much better than counting sheep anyway. She loved Mills and Boon, just like young women of her age. Joseph Heller was her favourite, even though nothing happened to her after reading Something Happened.
As Eve put one her face powder (it is an obsession with most Tamilians), pouted her lips and checked whether the lipstick was quite alright, the boy (nay, man) arrived. He was ushered in, served buttermilk and murukku and Eve’s father tried to make him feel comfortable.
And then Eve was summoned. Her heart was beating faster than a coconut peeler having a go at the nut (which is incredulous). Entering the room, Eve tried to catch a glance at her knight (he was dark, seriously!).
You can understand the moment only if you have seen a coconut peeler at work. It was like that last blow on the tender skin when the water spurts out (if you didn’t get the analogy: premature ejaculation).
“Reddy,” he said.
“Ever Reddy,” he added.
Was he a fan of Ian Fleming? We will never know.
Eve went weak in the knees. That husky voice. Those broad shoulders (and a broader outlook too, hopefully). That 6 foot frame.
Rajinikanth, Clark Gable, Cary Grant, James Dean, Suriya thought Eve.
Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, thought Ever Reddy (it was his name, not his surname that made Reddy that way).
It was love at first sight, the mundu notwithstanding.
The date was fixed. August 15, 2005. Eve wanted to break free (and her hymen, of course). Ever Reddy was ever ready to oblige.
Just 35 moons had to pass.

Tomorrow: Eve and Ever’s honeymoon.

The truth about Satyam is out there

I was in Delhi on the morning of Whacky Wednesday, reading horror stories about a young woman who had been violated by a group of boys in Noida. The lady in question, a 24-year-old MBA student of an upmarket B-School, was returning from an upmarket shopping mall with a friend of hers when the boys, returning after a cricket match, cornered the duo at a secluded place. The boys forced them to another secluded place outside their village and forced themselves upon her. The girl was courageous enough to report the matter to the Noida police and the culprits were arrested soon after.
Nothing shocks me anymore about Delhi and its suburbs but this incident was way too terrible. The village elders justified the boys’ crime saying city slickers have spoilt their culture. How dare this man have one woman in his car, they asked, when boys in their village go to schools where there is one girl for around 15 boys.
What’s the big deal, they asked.
Just as I was shaking my head in disbelief, TV started flashing news of the biggest fraud of our times. (Note to self: Really?) Satyam’s Ramalingu Raju had been lying through his teeth about the financial health of his company. Just as Warren Buffett, the legendary investor, thinks silver is the final frontier, our erstwhile tycoon thought land was the best bet and was accumulating vast tracts of it – over 6,000 acres, to be precise. This, apparently, led to his fall from grace.
What’s the big deal, I asked.
Agreed that he committed a breach of trust and conspired to cheat people. Many of our PSUs went sick more or less in the same fashion.
But whom exactly did Raju cheat?
The investor? The man who looked at the balance sheets of the company and invested his hard-earned wealth and then some to benefit from India’s IT story? Probably not. Because most investors in India are gamblers anyway, making money out of intra-day trade or by profiting from a company’s growth but exiting at the first sign of trouble. And in any case, some are still buying the Satyam stock after it hit Rs 6.90 on Friday coming down from its peak of Rs 542 in May last year.
The Indian janta? The people who used to crow about how home-grown companies such as Infosys, Wipro, TCS and Satyam are taking on the world? Probably not. Because public memory is short and most won’t skip their breakfast just because one Raju managed to fool all the people all the time (well, almost).
The media? Those beacons of light who religiously report that a substantial number of the richest in the world are Indians? The people (yours truly included) who got fooled into going gaga over Satyam winning awards for corporate governance? (Of all the things, imagine!) Probably not. Because they’ll have their revenge anyway.
My guess is that the only people Raju really cheated are his employees. Those 53,000 people (note to self: update the figure after the real audit) who toiled day and night for him. Those 53,000 people who thought their lives were made and bought cars and homes on huge loans looking at their 8-figure salaries. Those 53,000 people who were the darling of all marketers then but no bank wants to touch now.
The young woman in Noida will probably never get over her trauma and will forever be scared of young men, especially when she sees a crowd.
The employees of Satyam will probably never get over the shock of daylight robbery and will forever be scared of balance sheets, especially when they look for the next job.
And the investor, the Indian janta or the media? Oh, never mind them. They will find many more Rajus and Satyams to slap around in the days to come.