Gippy’s Galatta

 

 

 


GIPPY’S GALATTA

By Gippy Doré


WHAT HAPPENED AT DORE’S PLACE

SUNDAY 1st. JUlY 2018 –   WODEHOUSE CORNER AT DORE’S

 

Heavy rains had prompted the rescheduling of June 30th. meeting to July 1st. and here we are fortified by the choicest oily snacks compatible with the rainy weather.

The highlight of June was the visible proof of the indefatigable energy shown by Giri Dore who is neither defeated by age nor by excuses of this and that. Giri Dore conducted a business simulation programme called TABU (Taste of Business) for PG Management Trainees to give them valuable insights and learning skills without clichés and jargons. Driven by updated mathematical devices, the program covered 8 cycles tackling business challenges, Tsunami like demonetisation, petrol price pin-pricks, GST, among Trumps immigration blocks and other political uncertainties.  The faces of the participants lit up with high wattage smiles as their applause echoed “Giri Dore is our Uncle Fred in Springtime”. The class, shaken and stirred like the ingredients of a cake, alas could not get a wink of sleep during the entire session.

Members lamented on the surprising state in education where students scored 100% marks in all subjects, even in English and Marathi. This is like “stagflation” where we see only inflation in marks and stagnation of the intellect. What absurd evaluation standards!! At this rate we should be having shoals of Shakespeares and Shaws. How long can we watch such buffoonery? Another member opined that this may perhaps be a contributory factor in the vast number of mediocre authors in our country. Write one or two novels and get a bookstore signing program. The writers’ world is glutted and the Literary Festivals organised at Jaipur and Delhi are contests of egos amidst the feverish promotion of their books.

The discussion veered to writers who imitate Wodehouse. The popular novel “Jeeves and The Wedding Bells”, a homage to P.G.Wodehouse, by Sebastian Faulks was mentioned and while some condemned any such attempt a few felt that there was nothing wrong if it was an honest attempt to write like the Master as truly sincere readers in deep and respectful appreciation. While reading through the novel a member observed that there were many pages where the humour, though contrived and imitated, was quite funny and readable. It was like reading in a garden where sunlight and shadows of leaves intermingled with a penumbra revealing the false and the fragile.  The ring of the fake coin was loud and clear. Wodehouse, with an indulgent smile, would have observed, “We all have to be something in life”.

Yes, everyone has to be something in life. The suburban burglar and house breaker found a sympathetic corner in Wodehouse’s heart and pen. In Los Angeles a burglar routinely targeted homes while the residents attended funerals. While the mourners were busy in cemeteries he carted off their belongings. Police were after the culprit, Brett Patrick Rogers and nabbed him when he was busy packing inside an afflicted home.

In North Carolina, one Jesse Graham, a fugitive dialled 911 by mistake which promptly led the Police to track him down. Wanted for some offence in New York the Police were searching high and low until he made the fatal mistake. Of such is the surprising world of the petty thief and the pickpocket.

A British ex-soldier suspected of around 40 burglaries in France spent 5 months on the run in the woods before being caught. He amassed a vast trove of treasures, including laptops and jewellery. Police found the burglar living a Spartan existence, with bottled gas for cooking and a stolen TV.

Of such is the kingdom of burglars.

— PG.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gippy’s Galatta

G. C. Dore Business Game At Siemens Kalva- Mumbai  :

Mr. Giri Dore oldest CT ( 83+) conducted a business game (TABU= Taste of Business ) for the latest batch of CT’s on the 6th and 7th of June 2018 at Kalwa, It had all the adventures and upheavals of today’s business world, like demonetization, inflation, Brexit, GST etc. The game covers 8 business years. The trainees made losses in the first 4 years but bounced back into sunshine of profits in the next 4 years. The Programme concluded with music played by Mr. Dore on the Hamonica.

Regards

Sasikumar Menon

Gippy’s Galatta

 

 

 


GIPPY’S GALATTA

 By Gippy Doré


      • WHAT HAPPENED ON SUNDAY 29TH APRIL AT DORE’S PLACE

        SUNDAY 29th. APRIL, 2018 – WODEHOUSE CORNER AT DORE’S

    The highlight of the meeting was Giri’s narration of his visit to Dubai and the re-union with his two brothers. This was an event that he had been looking forward for long with much anticipation as they resembled the gang of Three Muscat-eers.  Dreaming of Muscat grapes and Muscat wine (famed for its sweet floral aroma) the three Musketeers planned an itinerary covering visits to inns and taverns.

     

     the gang of Three Muscat-eers

    The journey to the International Airport at Mumbai was as expected, painful, slow and traffic bound but Dore’s mind was elsewhere. Would there be attractive airhostesses on the flight? During the last five decades, Dore saw a steady decline and fall (resembling the decline of the Roman Empire) of the beauty and charm of the air hostesses on his numerous flights. In fact, the last few flights were infested with staff that, at best, were toothless ayahs leaving him wondering whether he was on a flight or in a crèche. At the airport there were, in the words of Wodehouse, such people as are found at such places; bizarre characters, staggering with outlandish luggage on unruly trolleys in long queues, waiting for boarding cards. When Giri boarded the plane these same characters were struggling with their heavy bodies, hoisting heavy hand bags into congested overhead holds. A black leather bag weighing more than 30 kgs. was being swung up and hoisted over the delicate necks of those seated below, the owner then collapsing like a ton of bricks into his seat. Finally, a semblance of peace settled like a sediment when all were seated with safety belts fastened which was followed by the usual hand-rest-elbow-edging with the neighbour.

    The boring flight safety drill was about to start when Giri saw that the airhostesses were not only charming and “see-worthy” but were frankly “compatible”, he in comfort and they being “pat-able”. They did not have rings on their fingers or bells on their toes but were comely and attractive. The safety drill commenced and the girls, one at each end, stretched out their arms horizontally pointing to where the doors lurked. Their gesture was as if drawing attention to the risk that even walls have ears. Then came detailed instructions on how the mob should save themselves should the plane land in water. The girls were displaying yellow life jackets that looked buffoons’ T-shirts and Giri wondered if these life jackets lying under the seats since the turn of the century would ever open up in normal situations, let alone during an emergency when 300 struggling passengers have landed in water. Recalling Keats’ famous lines “Ever let the fancy roam, pleasure never is at home: At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth, Like to bubbles when rain pelteth”, Giri fell asleep lost in anticipation of Dubai’s taverns, tambourines and the lyre. When the plane landed and he was winding his way through the streets of Dubai he saw the opulence of a place where commerce flourished like weeds in the wild. It was a “sunny place for shady people”.

    In the large house where the re-union took place, the evening lamps were “shining, yellow as honey, red as wine, while harp, and flute, and mandolin made music sweet and gay”.

    The get-together of the three brothers was loud and noisy and conversation flowed free. As Wodehouse wrote, if ever there were three persons dying to speak to each other, these three were those three.  Giri’s brother Prem is 89 years old. He and Giri had “travelled” over the map of Sindh (now in Pakistan) with grins and giggles at all the spots and places familiar to them. The map was in Sindhi script. The younger brother Raj was too young to read from right to left. So he preferred the company of the goblet.

    In Dubai, Giri met one of his ex-Management Trainees ( Mr Ayub Sheikh, a trainee 30 years ago). Ayub was greeted (on his birthday) and arrived at the Dore house for lunch. It turned out that Ayub is one of the Maha-Millionaires of Dubai. After his training in Mumbai (at Siemens, by Giri), he moved to Bahrain, where he rose to the cliff of CEO – Bank of Bahrain, the richest bank in oil country. Ayub was totally down to earth, modest and affectionate. Giri could read the road signs in Dubai since the first script he learnt in Sindh was Arabic-based Sindhi. The meeting of the three brothers was an ode to God’s Grace. It was trip into seven decades of the past and vibrant in the present. Few can be so lucky in this world. So much for Giri’s adventure into the past.

    Two of the members announced with delight of the visit of the stork that elevated them to the status of grandfather. Cakes and confectionary followed with rapturous cries of joy as members demolished them saying, “Its tasty, exceedingly.” “Its delicious, exceedingly delicious.”  Members wished many more of such visits from the stork.

    An interesting discussion followed on names given to the new born and their importance. Shakespeare said, “What’s in a name?” There’s plenty said staunch Wodehouseans and there was a narration of the havoc played on being bestowed by an incompatible name that brought much sorrow. With a change of name, fortunes altered and life became livable. Life is lived beyond the fringes of logic. Members nodded with approval.

     

    — PG.

     

Gippy’s Galatta

 


GIPPY’S GALATTA

By Gippy Doré

 


SUNDAY 1ST. APRIL, 2018 –   WODEHOUSE CORNER AT DORE’S

 WHAT HAPPENED AT DORE’S PLACE ON SUNDAY APRIL 1ST – 2018

Our usual meet scheduled for 25th. of March was postponed to 1st. April leaving many wondering if it would be an April fool prank. But then we are serious minded fools and do not play with pranks. The date was shifted as Dore said that his door will be shut as he would be away for a reunion with his brothers in Dubai. We recall General Douglas MacArther’s famous words, “You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear, as young as your hope, as old as your despair.” Some with age grow younger and turn out like Giri for whom,

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Giri and his brothers can be imagined in moving ahead as the young with their flag and their slogan: “Scale the dunes and conquer the desert”. But let’s wait for his sparkling narration on his return.

One fine day things went haywire when Dore’s phone got cross connected to some chap infesting a flat near CCI. The fellow (whose telephone, no doubt, covered by a laced embroidered cloth was silent as a tomb for he rarely received any calls) was very cross as dozens of Giri’s phone calls had been disturbing him night and day. At the height of his anguish PG unknowingly phoned Dore where upon the victim roared like a wounded lion “Who is this Giri? Where does he live? I have complained to MTNL and I am tired of getting up to rise to the occasion to hear all and sundry asking for Giri Dore. PG pacified him with a soothing syrupy voice thick as Calmpose, and enlightened him that Dore lives just across the road. “I will go and see him just now”, he declared. The incident is not very different from the scene in Psmith Journalist where Psmith had joined the staff of Cosy Moments, New York’s sanitized magazine, bought regularly by the father of the family to read to his chicks at bedtime. It contained contributions (as Plum described) from the bright offspring about the nursery canary by Jane (aged 6 years) and other pure bilge by a handful of lousy writers who relied on the good old copy-paste technique. Psmith assists the acting editor in sacking the writers who, on receiving the missive turn up at the journal’s Office, collectively demanding, “Where is Windsor?” Psmith, with his customary tact and savoir faire  not only defused the noisy crowd but turned them into a jovial bunch before hosting a lunch where, conversing happily, they forgot about the purpose of their visit and repeated their stale jokes and stories across the table. We are eager to learn how Dore handled the CCI chap or did he leave him to be taken care of by the society’s bouncers.

One of our regular members was unable to attend as he had the dengue which, as we all know, is a terrible mosquito borne illness. Our friend is recovering fast. However, it is reported that the mosquito who was the culprit had high levels of alcohol in its blood also developed high fever with aches and pains and is struggling in the ICU of the Mosquito Ward. The long arm of retribution is never far.

There was much heated discussion on Aadhaar card, its uses and potential dangers. For those who like Abou Ben Adhem just awoke from their deep dream of peace, they must understand that Aadhaar is a mandatory requirement under the present regime and there is no moksha without it. That apart, mere survival on the face of the earth is out of question unless you have the card with proper number which must be linked with mobile, banking, doctors, etc., failing which you can be disconnected from your mobile, gas  connection, banking, internet, passport, visa, marriage, divorce, hospital, and burial / antim sanskar. Here comes the problem. Many find the linking is not possible as there are no finger prints. Perhaps they never had any in the first place. Now some regret their sterling character in not having committed some useful crime like house break for they could have easily escaped without leaving a trace of a single finger print. So all please note, Aadhaar will hereafter be every person’s companion, the staff and the support, on life’s long journey through days sunlit as well as the nights through dark and deserted ways till he or she joins the dust. A faithful companion not just from birth to death, but from the womb to the tomb. Members gravely nodded saying that this might well be so!!

 

— PG