Our Readers Write

Stop it

They start their rounds early in the morning, around 5 am. They appear every fifteen or twenty minutes, going round and round, one after the other; they make an unbearable noise and spew the air with dirt and gaseous pollutants. Many road rage deaths take place, to boot. We’re talking about the heavy-duty concrete mixer lorries that ply on both the main roads and the service roads. Each trip they make garners the owners enormous profits at the cost of the publicand others who use the streets.

We were under the impression that roads are meant to facilitate the transport of goods and people, commuters and pedestrians alike! I wonder whether these concrete mixers pay exorbitant road taxes to ply; but even very high rates do not justify the presence of these heavily polluting vehicles on public roads when they can do their business at their respective sites. They’re simply another contributor to global warming – a phrase that makes people look at the sky, each of us conveniently forgetting our own role in the matter.

Globally, each country promises to reduce their contribution to global warming by a certain percentage within a certain period, India included. I wonder whether these targets are also defined at the state level – it must be, for all-India targets cannot be arrived at without state-level targets – and if so, what is TN’s share and how is the state to achieve it? At any rate, stopping these monstrous vehicles from plying on the roads will certainly contribute to the cause, and as such should be our immediate aim. Stop it now.

N.P. Andavan
audconp@gmail.com

Elusive officials

While the websites of Greater Chennai Corporation, Chennai Metropolitan Water Supply and Sewerage Board, Tangedco provide the names and mobile numbers of key officials with a view to help the public to get in touch with them in case of any issues, the reality is that most of them do not even pick up the calls. Even when a WhatsApp message is sent, one does not get a reply. While it is incumbent upon them to respond to calls as they are public servants, do they think that it is below their prestige to talk to the public? The officials must remember that they get paid for the so called ‘services’ they render from the taxpayers money. The officials are supposed to act as a bridge between the government and the public but in effect they keep aloof from the public. This does not augur well for the functioning of the government which is wedded to the welfare of the public. The same applies to the elected representatives such as councillors, MLAs and MPs.

V.S. Jayaraman
31, Motilal Street
Chennai 600 017

Seeing the world in a better light

As I sit down to write about Ravi and Rani, the quote ‘Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about,’ comes to mind. So if everyone has to be treated with kindness, what is special about Ravi and Rani who live in Shenoy Nagar as I do, and are also in their late 50s and early 60s? The couple are visually impaired and cannot see me, who has been their friend for more than 20 years. If I see Ravi walking in the neighbourhood – by which I mean taking one cautious step at a time – and decide to not help, he must walk on by himself. Would you believe that some people cluck their tongues in disapproval to see them stepping out of the confines of their house and walking alone in the open? It isn’t unusual for them to get hurt in the bargain. Despite this, the couple – who live alone – do not rue their fate and stay indoors. They have the courage to step out to go to work, buy groceries, or collect the government’s monthly maintenance allowance from the PO. They accept help when it is extended to them but have learnt to be independent and tend to their cooking and cleaning over the years. The number of blind persons in the city may not be large, but even so, the awareness of their needs is abysmal.

Around 1971, a temple priest – the go-to person in villages who helps people with various ailments – squeezed lime juice into Rani’s eyes and damaged her sight; and in 1993, a pastor hurt Ravi’s eyes with his nails and damaged what little vision he had. Mind you, both incidents were meant to invoke the curative powers of God.

On the brighter side, it was the village school’s headmaster who went to much effort to take Rani from near Arcot and enrol her in the Government Higher Secondary School for the Blind at Poonamallee.

‘‘In 1993, I worked for a week at the Madras Institute to ­Habilitate Retarded Afflicted (MITHRA) near Shenoy Nagar, which schools children whose brain, limbs and speech are impaired and are barely functional. I felt I was in a much better place,’’ Rani told me. She continues to work there in the envelope-making unit and in addition mentors children with mental and physical disabilities. She has successfully completed a telephone operator’s course and is a craftsperson.

Some things help ease the challenges faced by the blind – the other senses of perception they possess, modern technology, and societal awareness. When the last one is lacking, even the educated among the blind become vendors on trains because employers shun them, Ravi and Rani tell me. So much for the aspirations of the blind to be treated with dignity! When the couple were looking for a house in October 2020, one of the reluctant owners checked with Rani’s employers whether the couple could keep the house clean. Their own rundown 223 sqft one-room flat has been demolished and is being reconstructed by the Tamil Nadu Urban Habitat Development Board (formerly Tamil Nadu Slum Clearance Housing Board). There, it was more often than not the ‘rowdies’ who helped them carry water to the third floor. The two observe that it is the people in the suburbs, not in the well-to-do neighbourhoods, who help and are sensitive to their needs – such as reading to them documents that are available only as written or printed text and not in braille. Ravi has completed a course in Light Engineering, and teaches spoken English and learns Hindi online. Screen reading software has emerged as a boon that helps them use computers and smartphones.

I recently Whatsapped Ravi the song Que Sera Sera from the film The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956). He sent me back an old Tamil film song from the 1957 film Aravalli, which was inspired by the former. During my visit to their place when it was time to take leave, Ravi used the Uber app to book a motorbike to take me home. So much for friendships that help them see the world in a better light. Ravi can be contacted on 9841394775/ helloegravi@gmail.com.

T.K. Srinivas Chari

The Charm of Ponytails: A Perspective on Individuality and Imitation

One fine morning, my daughter Meenakshi stood before me, her eyes gleaming with determination.

“None of the kids in my class have a ponytail,” she declared. “I want a nice ponytail coming right out the back.” There was something endearing about her request. It was a pure expression of self-confidence and expressed a desire to be herself. So, with a gentle touch and a mother’s love, I gave her the ponytail she wanted. It was proud and playful, a reflection of her individuality.

When Meenakshi went to school, the reaction was sharp and immediate. “Ugly, ugly, very ugly,” her classmates chanted. Yet, an unshaken Meenakshi responded, “It’s my ponytail, and I like it.” Her words were simple, yet they carried the strength of self-assurance. But what happened the next day surprised us both. When Meenakshi walked into her classroom, she found every girl sporting a ponytail just like hers. Archana, one of her peers, couldn’t help but exclaim, “You’re all a bunch of copycats. You do whatever I do.”

This little story, while charming, reveals a deeper truth about why girls – and perhaps children in general – are drawn to something as seemingly simple as a ponytail. It isn’t just about the hairstyle itself; it’s about what it represents. For some like Meenakshi, a ponytail is a personal choice, a way to express themselves. It’s a little banner of confidence, tied up neatly with an elastic band. For others, it is a symbol of belonging. Imitating a trend can be a way to connect and feel included in the invisible bonds of shared style.

But why do girls – and children especially – care so much about these expressions of individuality and imitation? It’s because growing up is a journey of finding who you are while figuring out how to fit in. A ponytail can be both a declaration of “Look at me!” and a whisper of “Am I part of the group?” As a parent, I see this dance between individuality and conformity play out often. Meenakshi’s ponytail taught me that encouraging self-expression doesn’t just empower a child – it also sets an example for others to follow. It’s a small but beautiful reminder that individuality, when embraced confidently, can spark a chain reaction of self-acceptance and creativity. So, why do girls like ponytails? Perhaps it’s because, whether worn proudly or in imitation, they carry the power to unite us through a shared language of style while celebrating the unique charm of every individual who wears them.

Priyanka Soman

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