The Mythical, Mystical, Maya Bazaars

4:30 pm factory siren, finally.  The nerve-wracking second day’s training on Psycho Cybernetics was coming to a close, with Consultant Dr. Kanakapathy summarizing the day’s take-away points.

The 50 trainees were all fresh engineering graduates, appointed as Engineer Trainees (ET) at the behemoth of a public sector company (company), Bharat Power in Trichy, India. These ETs were recruited based on a very competitive pan India recruitment process.

The Psycho Cybernetics training was at the prestigious, cosy training room, F1. In the company, in the 1980s, it was two of its kind (other being F2) air-conditioned and fully curtained room.  Aptly named F1, it was the ground zero from where many a checkered career pursuits got flagged and raced off. While a lot got padlocked at the home company, some raved up to national and international circuits. Those stories for another day.

“Don’t drink milk. Eat it”, was a clear take-away from Dr. Kanakapathy for Ravi Kumar! This was an off-line comment made by Dr. Kanakapathy on how to eat, particularly milk, to help our digestive system.

Before concluding, Dr. Kanakapathy said, “Today is your company’s payday”. Then he went on, “Are you aware of the impact Bharat Power employees’ salaries make on the local market? It is to be seen to be believed. Enjoy guys!”

Indiran sitting next to Ravi Kumar murmured, “Ravi, that is a gross understatement by, one-fifth times, if we talk about our Maya Bazaar. Isn’t it?”

Ravi understood what Indiran meant – Maya Bazaar is not just a ‘seen’ to be believed phenomenon – it is alluring to all the five senses!  But Ravi wasn’t aware that today it will transcend his five senses.

All ETs were too eager to rush out to escape Cybernetics and to splurge their newfound stipend money.

While leaving F1, Ravi heard a whisper, “Buddy, looks like they are sure to make us psychos”, (“ஏன்டா, நம்மளை சைக்கோ ஆக்காமல் விடமாட்டாங்க போல”) from among the herd ahead of Ravi. Ravi wasn’t sure if it was Durairaju, who would go on to become the ebullience-personified of the group in the years to come.

“Not like that appa, understanding psycho subjects can help us in our career and life”, Sashidhar, who would go on to become the forever moderator-par-excellence, said in a pleading tone.

Meantime, as the ‘sealed’ door of the room opened, a tsunami of ‘smell’, ‘odor’, ‘stink’, ‘aroma’ whatever you want to call, swept them aside.

Indiran yelled from behind, “Dai, this is from the Maya Bazaar, the payday market!”.  The payday market makes an appearance on the evening of the salary day of the company and vanishes the next day to reappear again on the next pay day. It happens on the annual bonus payment day too.

As ETs came out of Training Centre, they saw blue plastic sheets, the ‘make-shift shops’ being spread on the pavements by each seller, just outside of the Training Centre’s barbed fence. On all other days, the pavements wore a deserted look barring a few trainees walking on them, occasionally.

Today, there were many people unloading bundles of goods and spreading them on the foot paths on either side of the road. There were vendor carts too here, there and everywhere. The company security and administration, with a beefed-up presence, was regulating them to bring some order.

Indiran and Ravi reached the dining hall of the Engineer’s Trainee Hostel (ETH) for an early dinner. The ETH was some 10 minutes’ walk from the Training Centre. As they sat down at the stainless steel topped gleaming table, Indiran said, “I will keep my stomach half empty. We can eat at the Maya Bazaar some ethnic snacks”. 

Not to be outdone, E. Sarawan sitting to the left of Indiran, said, “In that case, let me have my stomach only half full!” to complete the proverbial phrase, winking his right eye.

“Don’t waste your winks. You may need more of it at the Maya Bazaar”, Indiran teased in double-meaning. “Yes. You get to see Township girls at one spot, the Maya Bazaar!” they said in chorus.

As Indiran and Ravi prepared to step out, E. Sarawan and Nandhan joined them enthusiastically. As they walked out of ETH, Karnan and Sathish Babu, possibly the earliest pair formed in the batch, too joined them.

With each other’s hand on their shoulders, they stepped out towards Maya Bazaar, symbolizing the onset of a life-long bonhomie. But ahead of them there were other groups of ETs heading towards the payday market. Bhaskar and Raghupathy broke away from one of the groups and were seen rushing ahead. Bhaskar and Raghupathy had the nicknames of Boss and Rugs respectively, and both among their other endeavours and talents, were accomplished carrom players.

On all other nights, the Training Centre area would be desolated and dark, barring some streetlights at distances.  Today the area was buzzing with crowd, noise and lights of varying sources - simple kerosene lanterns on carts of small-time sellers’ selling roasted peanuts, corn, pineapple etc; petromax lights for vendors of plastic and kitchen wares and battery powered lights for bedsheet / garment merchants – symbolising the status of their segments of businesses.

Above all, the mix of aroma from sambrani, agarbathi, jack fruits and dried fish filled the air – it was not just inviting but enticing.

In short, it had that undesigned or an organically evolved carnival vibe.  

Nandhan wanted to buy a bedsheet at the garment outlet; he scanned through the lot and picked one, and asked Ravi.

“Ravi, is this good?”.

Ravi thought, the vendor could have sourced bedsheets and towels from nearby city of Karur.

Before Ravi could answer, they overheard a voice from behind.

“Enna Nandha deal done?” It was Dhanarajan.

“Not yet Dhanam”, Nandhan said. Dhanarajan is affectionately called Dhanam by the batchmates.

Dhanarajan, touched the top layer of the bedsheet, placing his thumb on top and other four fingers underneath, and ‘felt’ it.

“How much he is asking for?”

Nandhan getting closer to Dhanarajan’s ears, whispered the price.

Dhanam, “That is a good price. You may ask for a few Rupees less for your satisfaction. First, they don’t have overheads. You will get things here at retails showrooms’ cost price. In addition..”

Nandhan was in a hurry to settle the deal and he paid for the bedsheet and collected it from the vendor.

Ravi reminded, “Dhanam, you were about to tell something else”.

Dhanam continued from where he left, “Let me tell you. These people are self-made people, Entrepreneurs. Small size business owners, face challenges in life and business.  Many come from villages near my place. I empathise with them a lot. We are after all salaried persons. Isn’t it?”

Dhanarajan, normally a quiet guy at the training session was in all flow putting forward his dhananomics!

He was from a village, Inamkulatur in Trichy district in Tamil Nadu. He understood how these small businesses work, their challenges and how it would mutually benefit if buyers supported them. He sounded as the brand ambassador of maya bazaar. Ravi gave a rapt attention to Dhanam.

“Did you notice our Ramachandran, Sasidhar, Sekar and Swaminathan flocking together?” queried Indiran.

“Yes. But what are they buying, Sambrani?”, asked Sathish noticing them stopping in front of shop selling perfumes and incenses. The seller had placed few raw particles of sambrani on a charred cup with embers. The sweet vanilla aroma of benzoin, spread a fragrance with the wind making the little area around the shop, serene, albeit for a short while.

“Oh. They were buying packets of agarpathis and some Swami pictures”, spotted Nandhan.

“They are very religious. They do sandhiyavandanam everyday without fail!” wondered E. Sarawan, with a little quilt.

That was the last the group saw E. Sarawan. While they were looking for some eat outs, E Sarawan had already left the group.

“Where is this E Sarawan gone?” Ravi asked Karnan.

“I don’t know” retorted Karnan.

Sarawan, E Sarawan, a prolific writer and a wordsmith, had started a monthly magazine for the batch of ETs, called Impulse.  Every month he would prepare the material, and get Impulse cyclostyled at the Training Centre and circulate it. Prints and photocopies haven’t arrived much in those days.  Impulse, in many ways, had started making waves and the batch was beginning to find a common ground with it.

“May be, he smelt some juicy gossip around. Material for the next month’s Impulse!” quipped Indiran.

“Tell me one thing da. Anyone asking him his name, he always adds his initial E, to his name. Peculiar, isn’t it?” asked an intrigued Sathish.

“Forget that. Do you know his hometown too carries an initial! It is N. Paravur in Kerala”, Indiran said with a smirk, adding to the intrigue.  

“Good, we escaped from the eyes of Impulse!”, said Sathish heaving a sign of relief. Sathish, as he took his stride, now freely fluttering of his bell bottom in an attempt to cause a few weak hearts around to flutter. Two Township girls passed by the group; did they giggle? Sathish was sure they did.

Indiran stopped at the next cart, where sliced totapuri mangoes sprinkled with a mix of country salt and chili flakes were in the offering.  Sathish ordered slices for the group and paid for them. Sathish had volunteered to keep the accounts, which he did meticulously. Later in the night, he would walk around all the group member’s rooms with a coin / change box to collect monies and settle the accounts by that night itself, leaving no carry forwards. Sathish ensured that all settlement accounts are reconciled by the EOD – a perfect financial control practice.

Nandhan noticed that something was peculiar in the way Karnan picked the mango slice. He was picking the slice gently with the tips of his thumb and forefinger, in his left hand!

“Hi, Karna, why are you using your left hand for eating?” he asked knowing Karnan’s natural hand was right.

“Nandha, here in maya bazaar, you don’t have a chance to wash your hands with water after eating. In case of any emergency like a dusty wind, your natural hand will rush to your eyes to rub. This can avoid such mishaps!”, said Karnan. What a foresight! Small things make perfection, but perfection is no small thing!

The salty, sour-cum-chili tinge, particularly from the chili flakes on the mango slice, stayed on ones’ tongues long, long after the piece had travelled deep into the stomach – no chance for the factory-made masala powder, the group believed.  

E. Sarawan of course missed the slice and the tinge – maybe he got hold of much juicier stuff, who knows!  But Ravi was in a different mood, focusing on observations than talking.

The batch had several ETs from states other than Tamil Nadu. Some were from other southern states, few from the Hindi belt and even from Orissa. Hindi (or lack of Tamil knowledge) bonded them together and they were called the Hindi gang by ETs from Tamil Nadu (a subtle,  ‘Tamil theriyathu poda’ gang?).  Satbir Singh and Siddu Mohanty from this gang were trying to bargain for some plastic wares in their broken Tamil with a vendor. The ever-debonair Durairaju saw this and willingly stepped in. “Satbir, need help?”.

Raju bargained and the settled the deal for them; Raju started to become the darling of the gang!

Halwa stall was close by, with halwa in heaps in display resembling the Rock Fort. Roving eyes of Raju spotted a senior batch ET, Sathyanathan, buying halwa.

"Hi Siddu, note there, Sathyanathan is buying halwa!", Raju screamed with excitement.

"Raju, why are you so excited?", asked Siddu.

"Siddu, just watch him, he will next go to the flower stall and buy strands of jasmine! Tonight they will have maja!", Raju almost screamed.

"What are you saying? What is maja?", an 'innocent' Siddu asked.

Raju pulled Siddu aside and tutored him on how the combo of halwa and jasmine play a key role in the marital life of couples, as per Tamil movies.

A wide-mouthed Siddu listened to Raju with rapt attention - it took a while for him to close his mouth.

Meantime, there was some commotion few stalls away. A fit of rage, argument between two sellers who had spread their ware on the pavement and a security guard of the company was mediating between them.

Satbir, who could not understand Tamil, asked Raju “What is the matter, Raju?”

“This is a border fight. These two sellers are accusing each other of encroachment of their areas on the pavement. Need a Line of Control here, too!”, Raju said with some sarcasm.

The security guard yelled at the 2 sellers, “This maya bazaar show (kooththu) is going to last only for 7 to 8 hours tonight. In this, you are having a territorial fight!” (“இந்த மாயா பஜார் கூத்தே ஏழு எட்டு மணி நேரம் தான். அதுக்குள்ளே உங்க வரப்பு சண்டை தேவையா?”)

The group skirted around the fight and moved on; but the security guard’s message kept lingering in Ravi’s mind.

The ‘dreik’, ‘dreik’, sound at the next stall attracted the attention. It was peanuts getting roasted in hot sand.  A deep pan over the stove was partly filled with sand. Peanuts dropped into it were allowed to get heated and roasted. The sound of ‘dreik’, ‘dreik’ was from the metallic skimmer put in stirring action by the vendor.

Sathish proposed, “Guys, let us have some peanuts” and ordered four packets. The vendor picked the hot peanuts with a smaller skimmer from the pan, shook it a little so that last few sand particles drop away. He then tore a page of an old Kumudham Tamil weekly magazine, rolled it up into a cone, and placed peanuts into it - before a head-tilted-Nandhan could do a quick reading of the page.

“You don’t want to leave even that one page?”, quipped Sathish at Nandhan. You guessed it correct. Nandhan was a bookworm, enjoys reading, who over a time would turn into a ‘monstrous’ book-alligator.

Each one collected a cone, open at the top. The group’s Paytm of those days, Sathish, as usual, paid for the peanuts.

After some more shopping and more eating, the group finally got to see E. Sarawan.

Ahead of the road, the group saw again those 2 Township girls who passed by them earlier. They are daughters of the company employees and were living near the B sector shopping centre. The two-some were quite well known in the Township, particularly to the Township lads, and can be found at any outings, gatherings in the Township.

And there, not far behind those girls were Boss and Rugs. Like in the game of carrom, one coin has to follow the red coin (also called queen) into the pocket, Boss and Rugs were following these two queens. They were matching their pace with the gals and oh, wait, where they were talking to them, too? Wow, that was too fast- within few months of joining the company!  

E. Sarawan suddenly appeared at the scene from nowhere and pushed ahead and caught up with Boss and Rugs. He had a chat with Boss and Rugs and returned to the group with a smile.

“Red pocketed? Game over? Any scoop?” Sathish was shooting questions.

“No. Wait for the next Impulse”, was the cryptic reply from a tight-lipped E. Sarawan.

The group knew a spicy story will go on print in the next month’s Impulse.

But Ravi was in a different world, ruminating, ‘What can be more piquant than this mythical, mystical maya bazaar?’

It was getting close to midnight and the maya bazaar was slowly wearing down. The groups of ETs returned to their hostel rooms, with their thoughts on the following day’s training.

Next morning as Ravi walked towards Training Centre, along with other trainees, he glanced at the road. The stretch that was so lively last night looked abandoned now. The company’s administration had done a great job in collecting all trash and cleaning up the entire bazaar, overnight. flutter

‘Cleaned up but lost life!’ What an irony Ravi imagined. His mind was wavering into some profound thoughts – he felt a little shiver in his body too. Was it goosebumps?

The buzz, excitement, five senses-feeder, fun, interactions, fight, arguments, romances, the economic cycle of the bazaar, whatever there was, were all gone - they were so short lived. But unmindful of all these ephemerals, this ‘ruthless’ enduring time moves on!

Was Ravi seeing a message, beyond the five senses?

There-yesterday-gone-today phenomenon, the bazaar’s transient nature struck deep in his mind.

No wonder it is called the maya bazaar, he reckoned!

A little bit of mixed aroma of the maya bazaar was still in the air.

While entering Training Centre, Ravi took a deep breath of the left-over aroma and settled down for the next round of Psycho Cybernetics – in existential terms, to play his role in the mother of all maya bazaars called, life.

- By Radha Konda

October 2022     ©