Navarathri Nights

General updates:

Yes, it has been a while since I posted to the blog. We are all doing well. Ramesh has begun to identify areas in Tamil Nadu that he wishes to travel to, to explore internet connectivity, and the effectiveness of internet-based government information. Rajani is doing well in school, and has a busy social life, with Ammu, Sanjana, Swetha, and Divya, all vying with each other for play-dates with her. Flat Stanley (Martina's private Flat Stanley Project) arrived from Beijing yesterday, and joined the birthday party for Mrs. Bear held by Swetha, Rajani and Sanjana. He will probably go to school with Rajani on Monday, and meet her teacher.

The Festival of Navarathri=nine nights:
It is redundant to label my post Navarathri Nights, but I will let it be. Several stories revolve around the celebration of Navarthri, and I'll let my readers google it for all the versions. Simply put, the female power, as represented by goddesses Durga, Lakshmi, and Saraswathi, (for three days each) is celebrated. Women and girls worship Shakthi, and are celebrated as the goddess herself. They are invited to their neighbors', friends', and relatives', and they, in turn, invite other women and children to their homes. Traditional thambulam consisting of betel leaves, nuts, coconut, fruit, flowers, turmeric, and sundal were given everywhere. [Men simply stayed home and reviewed the sundals from various homes!] Jute bags, that are both practical and chic, were the rage this year. Well-made paper bags too were seen everywhere. Mercifully, none of the obligatory gifts, the trappings of a wealthier society, that are so prevalent in the US thambulams were seen in Chennai! Rajani and I got to sing songs on Devi at all the golus [an impressive display of clay and paper mache dolls, depicting stories from the legends, figures of gods, and great people, are tastefully presented in odd-numbered steps [3-5-7-9-11, etc.]] that we attended. She was a big hit.

Ramesh's mother traditionally kept an artistic and impressive golu. She built Mount Kailash, the abode of Shiva and Parvathi; she had a cricket stadium with freshly grown grass, trains that traveled through tunnels, a unique rangoli each year; all in addition to about 11 or 13 steps of dolls, many rare and beautiful ones. Everywhere we went this year, everyone talked about the famous Sita Nivas golu. But for many years now, aching bones and simpler lives, have let the dolls remain in the attic. This year, she had the tough task of giving many of those dolls away, as they closed down Sita Nivas for renovation and their impending move with us.

We briefly drove the mada streets around Kapali temple to enjoy the doll display and sale. The parking spaces are taken up by stalls like these for a week leading up to Navarathri, and are still seen, a week after the festival. It is a great time to find bargains, and save the dolls for the next year's golu.

I have memories of going golu bommai [golu doll] shopping with my grandmother, when I lived with her during my first year of college. She would drive a very hard bargain with the street vendor in T.Nagar. A "Ramar set" (consisting of

4 clay, painted 16-18" high dolls) would be priced at 60 rupees. My grandmother would counter that with an offer of 8 rupees! Even as I pretended that I was not with her, and wished that the pavement would open up for me to disappear in to, she would have closed the deal at 12 rupees!

Quite out of practice at doll-shopping, I ventured to purchase a single doll for Rajani's school golu. A countered the initial price of 30 rupees with a tough 10! We had the doll wrapped up at 15! Not quite my grandmother's grand daughter, but I was quite pleased with myself!

A broad selection of sabha, TV, and radio concerts were available to choose from during the 10 days of the festival. I enjoyed several on the radio. Rama Ravi, Nisha Rajagopalan, among others, sang wonderful one-hour concerts, with rare and familiar Devi kritis.

We took time off to visit Parakulam, a small village in Kerala, during the last 3 days of Navarathri, to experience dasami villaku = the 10th day-festival. I will write my observations and add plenty of photographs in my next post - Worshiping the Ancestral Deities - which should come along pretty soon. Until then!

Rajani's Book Review

Rajani has just finished reading her first chapter book by an Indian author. She has the following review:

Nine-year old Siddharth has parents that want him to play outside, like nine-year old boys do. He goes out, and he hears a rustling noise. First, he thinks it is a snake. Then, he goes to the fence and peeks over, and he sees a little baby elephant. So, the elephant and Siddharth are friends. First Siddharth tells the baby elephant his name. Then, the baby elephant tells its name : its name is Aishwarya. Siddharth roared of laughter. But the elephant tells him that it is rude! The elephant wants him to call her Alise.

Alise and Siddharth have lots of adventures together. Alise is a real talking elephant. She likes to chew gum, and likes to put a bow on top of her head. She likes to play cricket.

The "Bearded Bandit" is a man who kills elephants for theirs tusks. So, his assistants are looking for the "elephant graveyard." They hope to find lots of ivory tusks. Alise whispers, 'master, quickly, come here!" And soon the Bearded Bandit is face to face with Alise. Alise lifts him with her trunk, by his waist, and she asks Siddharth to cover his mouth before his assistants hear him shout. After that, Siddharth said to Alise, "put him in the deep pit." Then they call the forest rangers, and they become heroes.

Alise and Siddharth go on an airplane to be on television, and Alise gets everything she hopes for. Siddharth's parents are proud of him.

The book is Living Next Door to Alise by Anita Nair, with illustrations by Anitha Balachandran. Penguin Books India, 2007. 99 pages.

School update:

Rajani is home for the end-of-term-holidays. The first term ran from June through September, and culminated in a series of "worksheets" (we don't use the t-e-s-t word!) on all subjects: English, Math, Science, and Hindi. She has done wonderfully well on all, and wants me to specially mention her highest score in class for Science. She continues to write lovely sentences, despite the lack of free writing in school. [I make her write some journal everyday, and you can a sample of her free-form writing above, as it was dictated to me.]

In Math, she is adding in the hundreds, (3-digit additions), and is adding more than two numbers at a time (11+ 27+ 7),and is subtracting, borrowing from the tens. She is also learning multiplication tables. In Hindi, she has all her vowels, and most of her consonants down. Next term, she will begin putting them in words. On Mondays, she gets a spelling test from the reading of the previous week. She spells, reflection, rhinoceroses (I couldn't when I was 6!), remember, and light bulb (thanks to the lesson on Edison!)

My proposal to try out a project in the style done in Mrs. Collinge's classroom, was welcomed by Rajani's teacher, Ms. Sudha Narayan. We brainstormed with the children on animal topics, and we formed 4 groups of 4-5 children each. The animals chosen were: tiger, lion, leopard, and horse. We devised games, I borrowed books from the very sparse collection at the local library, other parents sent in coloring tasks, and word puzzles. The goal was to learn a few facts about the animal, and read a lot of books - fiction, non-fiction, and get resources from the web.

Many parents, anxious for the children's projects to be successful, printed out huge lists of facts, created little folders, bound and labeled them, and um.. basically, completed the projects for the children! Ah well! We do want our children to succeed so! It was hard to explain that the process was more important than the end product. Nonetheless, we were proud, at the end of term, to hang up the children's work for parents to see.

A New neighborhood Pal:

They do have a way of figuring out who the animal lover is, even in a city of about 7 million. We first noticed it huddling under our neighbor's car. It was by nature very affectionate and friendly. It only took a couple of tries before it walked up to us with its tail in the air. And before you know, she had us trained to give her a cup of milk, on demand! Now, she visits us in the late afternoons, and hangs out by our car most of the night. She has figured out that we live upstairs (though uncertain as to the floor), for, yesterday, we found her climbing up the neem tree, trying to spot us! We are hoping to grab her for a quick visit to Blue Cross to have her fixed and checked out. She seems quite young, very curious, and thoroughly enjoys the pets and scratches.
Ramya says: No, we have not named her, and no, I don't know if she is going to come back to the US with us!
Rajani says: We have three names for her:
"kutty meow [little meow] Chatterbox Subramanian"
The cat says: Purrr....

"Every House Has a Doorstep"*

Imagine that you moved in to a house as a one-year old. Imagine that you are 71 years old now, and that you never really left it, except brief periods in your married life. Imagine your children being born, and their children being born in that house. Imagine that your mother (and in-law), and your father (and in-law) died there. Just imagine the empty nest, now that your children are all outside the country. Imagine the little things, the big things, the thousands of photographs, the old letters, the books with inscriptions, your children's rusting trophies, the antique chair, and ALL the stuff that 3 generations of a family could have gathered. Can you just imagine what memories - sad ones, happy ones; what stories - stories of success, stories of failure, the walls could tell if they could speak?

Now, imagine having to leave that house, leave the neighborhood, whose landscape has changed so much that even you, after 71 years, don't recognize it when your travel for a couple of months!

I wonder, if you sat on the swing, would you see an old scene playing out before your eyes? I wonder, if you sat on the bed where you gave birth to your first-born, would you remember the pain? I wonder, if you sat at your father's desk, would you hear his laughter?

For someone who doesn't have an anchor, a place to call home, because she was moved around during her childhood (definitely not as much as an army kid, or a diplomat's child), I have always envied Ramesh for being able to come home to "Sita Nivas" - "the dwelling of Sita" (his mother's name, and also Rajani's middle name). On many visits back to Chennai, we have slept in the very room he used as a boy. Even as we finally fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, chatting about what had, and had not changed, we would be awakened by blaring music from nearby temples - perhaps the same songs that he had heard 20 years ago! vinaayakane, vinai theerpavane! Lord Ganesh, you end all my troubles!

[Above is the famous 5552, classic "Ambassador," standing in front of a very changed front yard of "Sita Nivas." Ramesh is known at IIT, as the Prof., who comes in the "old ambi." ]

On the 13th, Ramesh's parents moved out of their home. The task of sorting through the things - what to keep, what to discard, the physical task of packing (even with help), and the emotional task of making decisions, are all taking their toll. Even today, after an afternoon of packing, Ramesh found his mother trying to gather all the jasmines she could reach from the creeper, that I had bought for the house many years ago. (I am such a basket case about the jasmine, that I had said it should grow in any house that I belong to.) It, among other bushes, creepers, shrubs and trees, except the "vilvam" (Ramphal) tree, will have to go. It is said that the Vedas took the form of the vilvam tree, the trident-shaped leaves of which are much favored by Lord Shiva. It is so sacred, that just to see it, is considered a blessing for seven generations.

Below is a picture of Rajani and Ramesh's mother in 2004,
offering prayers at the vilvam tree in the backyard.

The house will be demolished, after salvaging much of the teak doors and door frames, and in its place will come a more modern home. Why, you might ask? I refer you to my first post about how Chennai's landscape is changing with the arrival of multi-story apartment houses, needed to accommodate a growing population. Every house around this one is at a much higher level, leaving them with backing up sewage, storm drains that are not up to date, water lines that are ancient, and a typical "shot gun" house, which is 75 feet long, and the cause of enormous aches and pains for a couple of pairs of aging legs.

Below is a view of the back door, from the front.


Many of you have experienced the challenges of such a move for your parents, in the US, as they get ready to move in to assisted living, or in to smaller, more manageable spaces. It hasn't been an issue in the past, as extended families stayed together in large joint households. Today, Indian families have become smaller, and busier, and while a few "joint families" still exist happily, children find themselves looking for apartments near their own, so that they may be of some support as their parents age. "NRI parents" are truly left to fend for themselves, or end up commuting between "abroad" and India for as long as they physically can. [Tempting as it is, it is not my intention to digress to a side story of the major issue on the hands of 40 and 50-year olds in India, and its diaspora, on what it is going to do with its elderly parents.]

I should get to bed. Everyone else has. We've had another exhausting day packing, cleaning and organizing. Good night!
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* I have loosely translated a Tamil adage - veettukku veedu vaasal padi," which could mean that each house has it own story, even though it may look quite unassuming on the outside.

...And, we're back!

Arjun's Arangetram (Debut recital)

The excitement of preparing for the arangetram is over. The anticipation of Tara's arrival is done with. The grand day has come and gone. That there was not even entry-room, let alone standing-room in the august Sastri Hall venue was noted with some pride. Arjun's performance that evening has since been throughly analyzed. The words of the chief guests, especially the senior vidwans = musicians, were awarded the same treatment as a work of literature would be by an English major. The compliments and the phone calls passed on to everyone in the family. And before you know it, they are on a plane to LA (that they were stuck in the runway for 8 hours, thanks to the immigration computer glitch only added to the post-departure excitement), and it is all over.

Above: L-R: Arjun, Dr. Karthik on ghatam, S. Saketharam, the vocalist, the Thambura gent, and Sri. Vittal Ramamurthy on the violin.

Below: My mother with her two grand daughters, Swathi and Rajani. Below Right: The welcoming party: sister, Geetha, Niece Swathi, and Rajani


We had a family gathering on the eve of Tara's departure, in our house. p.s. This is the first time that we are together - the entire family, all members - ever! (minus Kanchi and Krishna, of course) We almost had one in Alaska, in 1998, but were missing my mother.

I can now relate to what the family staying back must feel, once we leave for the States: Yeah! The suitcases have left! More space for us! But, seriously, I sort of miss the frequent ringing of my cell phone, and the silly ring tone that Arjun's phone came with.

The Cellular Irritant:

Do you know that when you call someone in Chennai, you rarely hear the old fashioned "ring ring?" It could be anything from a slokam (if you are religiously inclined), to the latest "va ji, Shivaji" from our superstar's hit movie, or an extremely annoying high pitched
instrumental version of classics like "vande matram," or an Ilayaraja hit. (Obviously, if, like me, you are outside of the pop Hindi and Tamil culture, you simply have no clue what is playing.) Rajani simply starts shaking her hips everytime she hears someone's cell phone ring! This
past weekend, at Ramesh's parents home, were held religious services for the first death anniversary of his grandmother. You can imagine the sight, when amidst the chanting of mantras and crackling of fire, rang a particularly peppy number on a priest's cell phone. I could not tell whether the stern look from the head priest was directed at the song's lyrics or Rajani's hip swaying! Airtel, which provides a land line along with its broadband services, also offers a musical jingle instead of a "ring ring, you can ring my pho-oh-ne, ring my bell!"

On Chennai Libraries and Book stores:

My first experience in a library, that I can recall, was at the Dar-es-Salaam Maktaba = library. As a ten-year old, I was given 2 cards to go to the children's section in the basement. My first library book, that I recall, was an abridged, but beautifully illustrated Wizard of Oz. Little did I know then that I was to go one to become a librarian and have a passion for the importance of libraries in children's lives. [That I could not go inside the Maktaba when I was there in Dar last
July is a still a sore point.]

Chennai's Libraries:

Chennai is not with out its libraries. The Connemara library is a formidable institution. As is the Madras Central Library. Run down Ranade, in the heart of Mylapore, frequented by the 70-plus for its volumes on the Gita, Bhavan's Journal, and other spiritual readers. Each community also has a "district branch" library with regular hours, stocking Tamil books and newspapers, and now a couple of shelves of English books in the children's section. [We have become members of the Indira Nagar library, and when I approached the librarian on the concept of a story hour, he looked at me like I was from Mars. But recovered enough to tell me that salaries were too low to incorporate such activities.] The IIT-M's central library has newly incorporated a children's corner, with a collection of Indian and foreign picture books in no particular order.

The concept of the "Lending Library" has been in existance since my childhood. I recall my sisters going to the Eshwari Lending Library to "borrow" English thrillers in paperback. Lending libraries were fee-based, and one paid a buck or two per book. These visits helped while away the summer months - we read and slept the afternoons away. This is where we found Amar Chitra Kathas, Archie comics (you can't imagine what a big news item it is that an Indian character has been introduced in to the strips. Indians are die-hard Archie fans!), and Tin Tin.

What we read:

Books for Indian children has always been restricted to the classics - either abridged and complete editions of classic British and American literature, or the myriad tales from the Indian lore, in the form of Jataka Tales, Panchathanthra stories, or stories from history, The Ramayana, and The Mahabharata. These tales are prolifically retold in Tamil. I do recall being read Tamil modern short stories from what were then high quality magazines in Tamil - Kalki and Ananda Vikadan, and children's versions of the same in Junior Vikadan, Ambulimama, and the like. The rest came from great storytellers, such as my grandfather, and later, my father, who had the same talent. Ramesh recalls a home delivery subscription service from his boyhood days: a fellow came on a bicycle and delivered a couple of new books, or new issues of Ambulimama or Amar Chitra Katha. Two days later, he picked them up, delivered them to the
boy next door, and gave Ramesh two more.

The Firengi Libraries:

Two other libraries I depended upon as a graduate student of literature were the British council Library and the American Library. I discovered A. C. Bradley, the Shakepearean critic, and watched the tragedies come alive on BBC productions on VHS tapes. The fees were affordable for a college student, and I got to meet like-minded people, watched plays, see displays on various subjects, and meet visiting language experts from England. Today, the British Council Library is a hopping place, in its nice new facility, with open architecture, a multi-media corner, and a creditable, though dated children's collection. Membership can be afforded only by the very comfortably off. They have a regular schedule of children's programs - most of which require registration for a fee.

The American Library was a fortress - long before September 11, 2001. It did not have much for me, and getting in it was such a hassle. Recently, I visited the library in the hope of meeting the librarian, and discussing a news item in the paper - the American Library was looking to expand its services to rural areas. My slightly disabled professor had climb all the stairs like the rest of us, and my American passport (but alas, not the right colored skin!), could not get any
special dispensation to enable me to park my car closer to the entrance, let alone drive in to the facility. Ramah, my friend from Maryland, and her 10-year old son, also starved for good reading, accompanied us. If the library's circulation statistics are good, credit goes to the persistent users, rather than the openness of the library. And, what was the service that the American Library was looking to take to rural areas? Information about the United States and its universities to college students in the rural south. It is the mission of the library, after
all. And, no, it did not have a children's collection.

The Children's Library scene:

My moans of protest about the lack of good library facilities to friends and family brought forth recommendations: A Few Good Books, suggested one. Closed. Book World, suggested Rajani's teacher. It was even featured in the paper as a wonderful library for children. It was just
a room full of books - of the same old Amar Chitra Kathas and like. Hippocampus, is another. [I shall hold off my remarks until I visit the place. I am looking forward to meeting the owner next week and exploring some meaningful libary based activities for children.]

Why we read (or don't):

So, where are children getting their reading? And what are they reading? School libraries is one place. [I cannot speak with authority on this subject as I have visited only one school library. It had an impressive library instruction schedule, a small collection of paperback fiction,
substantial non-fiction]. Smaller, start-up schools depend on donations and hand-me downs to form their collections. A friend's company that funnels monies to government schools to help form school library collections is also looking to start libraries in the slums to let women and children have access to books. Municipal libraries such as the one in my neighborhood opens its door regularly, but does nothing to attract children from nearby homes. Children are mostly in "tuition" after school anyway! They go to teachers' homes or community centers to have additional coaching on the very subject that they was taught in school that morning! They also have quite a few hours of homework to be completed before dinner. The poorer kids are too busy helping their families out by delivering flowers or doing house work. The ones who
recognize the value of recreational reading will take them to bookstores on the weekend.

Another theory I have, is that because we are an oral culture, and have emphasized story telling as a way to pass down lores, legends, and songs, we have not given importance to reading to children. Another traditional belief is that learning is done in school. All reading is done to supplement school work. [Parents appear to facilitate the learning process by taking the children to tuition, and by being there ensuring that TV watching is down to a minimum when the kids should be "cramming" for exams! [We could not meet Ramesh's cousins because their daughter was studying for exams. When we asked what they were doing about it, they replied that they stayed home, provided regular meals, and made sure the children weren't on the TV or computer chat rooms.]]

Our publishing industry has also been emphasizing learning of concepts and vocabulary
by publishing M for Mango type books rather than the story of how a mango might grow from a seed. The need for inexpensive books have also prevented the industry from producing high quality off-set printed books with illustrations and photographs.

Now, mind you, there is some change being effected on the next generation, as is reflected by the proliferation of children's board books, libraries - however small - in start-up schools, and bigger bookstores, with a large selection of imported books.

A Mylapore Icon:

An aside here: Have I even mentioned that my grandfather, on my mother's side, was a book seller? "K. Mahadevan, Bookseller" was the sign above his shop on the street where Vidhya Mandir School, off Royapettah high road, now stands. By the time I was old enough to notice anything, he was retired from his trade, and all we had left were a few shelves of books sitting around my grandmother's house. [Aside to the aside here: these books formed the perfect library for exploring youngsters when we arrived to spend summers with my grandmother. It laid the foundation for my belief, to this day, that homes should be filled with books - of all kinds - so that children may poke around, and serendipitously find a one that entertains, informs and possibly changes their lives! ]

My mother remembers the arrival of boxes of books from England, and that she would
be allowed to read those wonderful library editions, with their glossy dust jackets and shiny pages, provided her hands were clean. She still recalls the smell of new books all the way from England. That she so wanted to run the book store after my grandfather, but was married off
to domesticity, is an old lament, long forgotten.

The Bookstore scene:

Today's bookstores in Chennai are turning the corner, even though their children's sections all leave much to be desired. The newest one, Crossroads, in T. Nagar, (part of a book store chain in Mumbai and Bangalore?) has a coffee and sandwich bar. Their idea of a children's corner is a colorful mat and a couple of plastic chairs. Landmark, the largest bookstore at City Center, the mega mall of Chennai, has no standing room, let alone sitting and reading room. The
children's section has large toys to bounce on rather than a reading space for a child to sit down and flip through the pages of an interesting book. The Oxford Bookstore is a stylishly designed facility with a coffee bar (and dangerous stairs!), a meagre children's collection, and a children's program here and there. (That these stores are staffed by people who know nothing of books is another matter. The chap at the Oxford Bookstore asked me back what a "field guide" was when I asked him for a field guide to Indian trees.) Higginbothoms on Mount Road, the bookstore everyone frequented for all text books, coffee table books, and maps and postcards, has an expanded children's section since my time. It stocks plenty of ladybird series, and inexpensive
paperback editions of American and British authors for young readers. Rajani managed to find a tiny stool and sat down for an hour to read her a colorful series. And in Adayar, in my neighborhood, we have Odessey - a well-stocked, stylish, multi-storied store, with gifts, vcds, and books to empty out an NRI's pocket. (We stood in line at 6:30 a.m (and appeared - like dots! - in the next days Deccan Chronicle) to collect our Harry Potter at this very store.)


Where are the Indian authors for Children?

A recent Hindu article, after the arrival of the final Harry Potter, lamented that children were reading western authors. Where were the Indian authors? Was there nothing for the young reader beyond R.K. Naryan's Swami and Friends? The few that do write are being hidden the
back shelves. The above mentioned book stores do nothing to bring those books and authors to one's attention.

A couple of small publishing houses have cropped up for children's books in the last 5 years. Tulika and Tara publishing have taken everyday topics featuring mortal little girls, that children like Rajani can relate to. These paperback editions feature less text and more pictures, along the lines of our picture books that so capture a child's imagination. Fine arts graduates are finding a calling in book illustrating. One school has taken its students' final projects and published a series of books. Rajani's school librarian would ask me for recommendations for books that feature little girls and boys who look like Rajani. Tara and Tulika are beginning to respond to that plea.
The language is simpler, and sentence structure less complicated. [Many Indian writers have a tendency to write in the passive, and use needlessly bombastic language.] These stories feature everyday happenings of everyday people.

A very happening world of adult writing:

In closing, I will be remiss if I don't mention the vibrant adult writing scene: Indians are prolific writers in English. The book review section in The Hindu lists an impressive bibliography of fiction and non-fiction works. Indian authors at home, and writers among the diaspora are making a mark on the world literary scene: biographies, chick-lit, college campus lit (I'll put in a plug for Mediocre But Arrogant: a story about Love and Life in a Business School, written by Ramesh's classmate in XLRI), history (a favorite among Indians), translations, and much social sciences, fill the shelves of today's book stores.

I hope that the next generation of writers will recognize this need for well-written books that will capture our children's imagination, and make them life-long readers.

Toodle-do till the next post!

Fulbright Fellow ... Chap, maybe?

I really haven't had a chance to sit down at the computer - to blog, I mean. I am at the computer a lot: editing Arjun's Arangetram invitation and text for the brochure; sending a zillion emails back and forth between Guru, Shishya = student, and graphic artist!

I am popping in to share with you all that on July 15th, Ramesh officially became a Fulbright Research Fellow. All the paper work and approval came through on time, and the USEFI folks in Delhi are wonderfully prompt and a pleasure to deal with! Ramesh's research will deal with the development of Internet technologies in rural India, and their impact on a host of different issues, such as e-governance, communication, and business. Ramesh will continue to be hosted by IIT, where he will teach a course or two over the next nine months of the fellowship, but will primarily concentrate on his research. He is also finishing up editing a book on global issues relating to computer security, privacy, and law for IGI Global. He is making a tentative promise that he will post his experiences once a month - on a blog other than mine.

In the meanwhile, I hope you are all having a wonderful summer in the U.S. Keep popping in. I will be back to post later this month, when I am done with the brochure. Some topics swirling in my head include: Call center customer service (ha! and you thought you were the only one dealing with service in Bangalore!); Musicians off-Stage (any resemblance to real musicians is only coincidental!); and the ever popular "More Rules of the Road!"

Namaskaram!

Diminished Majesty

You remember that I started my very first post with this giant - the thoongu moonji maram = sleepyhead tree or Rain Tree. It has provided character to our neighborhood, shelter to dozens of birds, squirrels, and monkeys, and shade to everyone around (there's usually a 10 degree F difference between standing out in the open and under a tree!)

Today, our neighbors, who have completed the renovation of their home, decided to trim - more like an army buzz cut - its branches. The Rain tree's giant branches reached out over their water tank, and terrace, causing problems. They were muttering about its roots tearing up their paved walkways, but mercifully, decided against cutting the tree down. (The tree is right on the property line, making for a sticky situation, should there be an issue.)

Here are some pictures of the process:




Check out the tree outside the window. It helped create such wonderful light, that our photographer friend, who took professional pictures of Arjun, wanted the shoot in this very room!








IIT monkeys passing through our neighborhood. Two moms and their babies (rambunctious, and so human!) hanging out on the neighbor's overhead water tank.








One mother was much more cautious and stayed on the bigger branches, while the other mom allowed her little one to wander off and explore a path to our terrace. One could watch them for hours!
While we think that they are way too adept to fall off the tree, Ramesh says that many IIT monkeys do fall, and because they fall on concrete pavements, and not in to forest canopies, they actually do break a limb or two.







No cranes, no equipment. Just a hack-job, with a hand saw, and some rope to belay the branch.












A job well done! Firewood for the workers' family.











Not quite the concrete jungle that one might expect - but definitely on the way to one. [Don't miss the blue building!]










Bye! Got to go curtain shopping!

The Kodai trip, News from Rajani, Music Review and Kidney Sunder

This post was originally started on the 11th of June. I am trying to finish up and get it online tonight - the 27th of June.
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When you are dealing with a billion people, it is hard to generalize. It is foolish to sterotype. If you do, you have got it all wrong. Invariably. In India, at least. It has not prevented people from doing it: Elisabeth Bumiller in her May you be the Mother of a Hundred Sons. Ballentine Books. 1991, after living in India for just a year, jumps to mind as an example. Its people are so varied that market research companies are setting up shop, and collecting data in India because, right here, among a billion people, is every possible segment of the global population. Fancy that!

Why do I preface my piece on our trip to Kodaikanal so, you might ask? It is because I am going to try not to generalize, and when I do, I am probably talking about a sliver of the population of Tamil Nadu State. Google does not endorse my views, nor does IIT, the university that pays us to be here.

Kodaikanal, for those of you unfamiliar with it location, is about 500 Kms from (use this Metric conversion chart to figure out the distance in miles) from Chennai. Part of the Palani Hills, Kodai is an easy get away to beat the heat and dust of the cities in the summer. (I began writing this post about 10 days ago. The last four days have been most pleasant, with rains, cooling temperatures and cleaner air quality) Ramesh's grandfather, a practising lawyer in Palani, used to have a holiday home in Kodai, and it was customary to fill the car with all the grandchildren for a two-day stay, while he attended to business. I, on the other hand, had never been to Kodai until 1999 with Ramesh and his parents. I had only been to Ooty and Yercaud, the other two popular hill stations in the south, that too, only as a child.
Above right: view of the hills from the backyard of our guest house.
Below: buffaloes on their last ride on NH 45.

Kodai's temperature is comfortable, and in the dreadful month of May, one actually feels quite civilized not to be sweating it out at the slightest activity! The hydrangeas were in full bloom everywhere, as were the roses, and cosmos, and dianthus. There is even a flower show in Bryant Park, featuring some pretty good sized dahlias. With April and May being school holidays, we were not the only ones to have this get away idea. The 75+ km winding, uphill drive to the very top of the mountain (2100 meters high) was jam packed with SUVs, buses and cars, all carrying passengers far above the approved capacity. [an informal survey - read game - on the downhill stretch among the members of our party revealed 45 buses, 42 Tata Indicas, a distant 23 Ambassadors, and a mere 11 Maruti Omnis in a 2-hour time period. No one counted the SUVs because it was too hard to keep track of whether we had counted it or not. One would passes us honking and flashing, only to pull over so that one of its passengers to throw up on the side of the road! And I was grateful to my brother-in-law for letting me sit in the front, and being man enough to let all the other macho drivers pass him - so that I don't ask to pull over! ]

In the aforementioned 1999 trip to Kodai, we had also visited other cities in the south - Rameshwaram and Dhaushkoti (the best beach I've seen in India), Kanyakumari (the southernmost tip of India), Kuttralam - a giant waterfall to bathe in. I came back from the week-long trip and cried that our oceans need to be saved. With the exception of Dhanushkoti, my feet always felt plastic bags, banana peels, strings of flowers, coconut husks, and heaven knows what else, swirling in the waters. We were literally drowning in our own litter!

Above right: View of Srirangam Ranganatha Swamy Temple Gopuram=tower, just for you, Ranjani!
Six-years later, Kodaikanal looked like trash! Suicide Point and Coaker's Walk, where honeymooners snatched private moments for romance could hardly be inspired by half-eaten corn, bags that once contained masala popcorn, and crushed plastic cups? Families could hardly admire the lantana that cascaded from rocky walls to the street with all the soiled paper and wasted food dumped below it? The central attraction of Kodai - the Lake - around which meanders 5 kms of road for bikers, and walkers, and perennial favorite - horse-back riders - is probably the most polluted spot there. All the sewer lines (if any) seem to lead down to the lake. The waste from the horses and food stalls vie with each other for olfactory supremacy! The masses of people who have made the time, the effort, and spent the money, oblivious to this repugnant scene, are determined to have a good time - they hire (rent) bicycles, chat above the blaring music piped in for the entire lake, and patronize the bajji stall while waiting in the chaos for a turn at the swan boats. We retreated back up the hill to the quiet of the guest house.

Ramesh said: this was not the Kodaikanal of his childhood.
I said: this was not the Kodaikanal of six years ago!
Geeta, my sister, said: it is holiday season.
Above left: Gigantic hibiscus bush - the kind we don't see in Chennai city.
Right: Rajani and Raghavan Periappa on a trip around Kodai lake
So why are we not able to keep our recreational spaces clean? Do we not value them? Hell, no.
Too many people, we repeat the cliched argument. We are far too many people. It almost seems that the same people who were employed by the municipality to keep Kodai clean in the off-season (winter) months during Ramesh's childhood are being employed today. The only difference being, there are 500,000 more people on holiday - that day!. With economic boom, more people have disposable income to take vacations. Great! People are travelling everywhere. Good for them! While the people who travelled to Darjeeling in the north and Kodaikanal in the south 30 years ago, are going to New Zealand and Switzerland, the ones that took the family on a jam-packed public bus to the neighboring village temple for a weekend, are now going to Kodaikanal. They hire a Tata Sumo, collect half the neighborhood, and are off in search of a good time.

What hasn't come along with that desire to have a good time, is the value that we share this space with others. (generalization!) That this land belongs to us all. We all need to save it for all of us. For our children. And their children too. (Indian Prez. Dr. Abdul Kalam said it better, but we are not really in favor of a second term for him)

The municipality does not provide enough trash bins for people to deposit waste in, and those that are placed are far too full, far too quickly. As we move away from traditional habits (for example, eating out of a banana leaf that was in turn eaten by cows, or composted) to modern conveniences of disposable diapers and plastic bags, we are bound to deal with the, rather LARGE, problem of what to do about our trash.

Labour is cheap, so employ more people, one might say. Fine them, like they do in Singapore, (no chewing gum in the subway!) another might suggest. India is a democratic country where "freedom" is taken literally - I am free to drive badly, I am free to litter, I am free to take up residence on the pavement, etc.

Distressing!

Instead of finding fault, I have come to the conclusion that just as many nations in the west, during the industrial revolution, forged ahead, unmindful of the damage they were doing to their environment (and continue to, today) Indians too must have their turn at "development." They must enjoy the "modern" conveniences that it brings, experience the changes in values that it imports, watch their cityscapes morph in to "world cities" (we are cutting down spectacular shade providing trees to make room for wider roads) and only when they have been satiated with growth and development, only when they make time to pause, as a nation, and ponder over the direction of their growth, can they practice environmentally friendly values. Advocacy groups can educate; concerned citizens can practise the-think-globally-act-locally-thing.

Rajani's News:

I am in school now. Holidays are over. I have a friend called Sanjana. Sanjana is from America too - from New Hampshire. Me and Sanjana go to Ashoka everyday, my classroom. I am in 2nd grade, and Sanjana is in 1st grade. We like to play together. We like to play chuk-chuk trains, and build sand castles. We like to have play-dates and we have had 3 play-dates so far. At lunch, we place little tables and we sit together - me, Sanjana and another friend, Ammu. We are both best friends because I know how Sanjana's house looks, and Sanjana knows how my house looks. When I go to her house, I like to go bouncing on the bouncing ball, and play computer games. But that day it was raining and we could not go out to play. But when she came to my house, we could go out play in the building. Me and Sanjana like to read stories and draw pictures. And at snack time at school, we like to sit in the room outside, and we have a picnic together. We put our napkins together because Sudha Aunty does not want us to put buscuit crumbs on the floor. I don't always play with Sanjana. Sometimes, I like to play with Ammu. Me and Ammu like to go on the see-saw, and we like to say, "oh wait oh wait" and Ammu gets off the see-saw, then jumps on, and I go up and I say the same thing - oh wait, oh wait!
Love, Rajani

As you can see, Sanjana is a big thing in R's life right now. I am thrilled that she has another 6-year old to relate to. I meant to get a picture of the two of them, but haven't gotten around to it. But here she is, with my sister, Geeta, at the Palani Murugan temple - a day trip from Kodaikanal. The town of Palani is also home to Ramesh's grandfather on his father's side. They have a rambling old family house, which is currently on sale, and one of his uncles lives right there. Lord Mugura, the younger son of Shiva, got all upset when he did not get the prize that his parents had offered to the son who successfully completes a challenge - that of going around the world. Ganesha, simply went around his parents, saying that Shiva and Parvathi were the entire world! Muruga, in a huff, took off to hang out on the Palani hill. He is said to be inspiration of some pretty amazing Tamil poetry and music. While there are steep steps to climb the hill (and we have done it in the past), these days, we have gondolas and winches to take masses of people there. Here, they wait for the winds to die down so that the gondola can take us back down. She is wearing flower garlands, which are traditional blessings from the Lord, usually conferred on the family elder, or the family young(st)er!

Ramesh and the Fulbright:

While Ramesh has officially been selected to receive the Fulbright award, he does actually get it until medical clearance is received. And we await that.

The Music Scene:
Our private lessons have come to a complete halt since our teacher's sore throat, followed by the house painting project. Rajani and I try to keep practising, and our interest going. It is challenging!

On the bright side, Arjun, my sister's son, is visiting from California. He plays the mrudangam, the South Indian drum. After many years of earnest study and some talent, his guru sees it fit for him to have an arangetram=graduation performance. I have been pretty busy getting the invitation organized for the Indian event in August, followed by his North American debut concert in September. In India, he will be playing for S. Saketharaman, whose famous sister, Vishaka Hari, is rocking the hari-katha world, with her stories and music. In the US, violinst Delhi P. Sunder Rajan is presenting a vocal concert. [Arjun, playing the mrudangam, with his Guru, Shri Neyveli R. Narayanan, on the right, on my dining room floor.]

Earlier this week, I attended Delhi Sunder Rajan's vocal concert at the TTD in T.Nagar. Delhi SunderRajan's has a gifted voice, and his manodharma or improvisation are quite excellent (albeit a little over worked) - what with having accompanied TNS, TVS and the like. But his krithi delivery needs polishing. Srimushanam Raja Rao, who played the mrudangam that evening, would have most certainly awakened Ranganatha swamy while Delhi delivered a very pleasant O, Rangasayee...

And lastly,

"Kidney Sunder"

We live in a colorful neighborhood - literally: a building next door was recently repainted blue - I mean aqua marine! It is populated by interesting characters, of the two-legged and four-legged variety (more about Stud-muffin in an another post). Among them, stands out Kidney Sunder. Diagonally across our street, on the pavement, is a cycle repair shop. By shop, I mean a space on the pavement taken up to conduct a business. It is rarely manned. Yet, when it is, it does roaring business. Parents drive up in fancy cars, unload colorful children's bikes to have them fixed up, bikers stop to have their tires topped up with air, punctures are repaired on the spot. One cannot count on it being open the entire day, just because it appears to have opened for business in the morning. Ramesh has often meant to go out in the evening to have his brakes adjusted, only to find that the shop keeper has covered up the shop with tarp and gone home for the day. (I did say that it did roaring business when it was open!) Ramesh would end up pushing his bike a few hundred yards to the other fellow in front of the Ganesha temple, who was always there, always polite, and considerably less expensive.

After four months of watching this elusive businessman, we finally found him open when we actually needed him. Ramesh quickly pushes his bike over to him and asks to fill his tires with air. As the task is being completed, being the business professor that he is, Ramesh asks him how he manages to keep it going, even with the shop closed as often as it is. He replies that business could be better, but he often has to be away - to the police station or to court. Did Ramesh not know that he (the bike shop guy) was Kidney Sunder? No, replies Ramesh. What's the story? He [Kidney]Sunder has been falsely accused of murdering someone for his/her (yes, you guessed right) kidney by, says Kidney Sunder, the real murderer. The real murderer pointed the finger at Sunder (now Kidney Sunder), and the media picked up the name too. With this allegation, KS spends most of his time presenting himself in court, and not being able to help the neighborhood kids by filling air in their little tires.

We have since learnt that Kidney Sunder is the son-in-law of Iron Lady [so named by Rajani, for she picks up our ironing]. Today I asked Iron Lady why her son-in-law did not keep his shop open more often. She shook her head sadly, as any mother, who has given her daughter away to an underserving man, and said sarcastically, "I guess he makes more than enough money when he is open." [I told you he did roaring business. Whether it is his superior workmanship or his notoriety, we'll never know!]

Until next time!