The summer of '07

Hotter Still!

"Mercury is soaring!" "The dog days of summer are here," etc., seem trite, yet expressive enough. I'll stick to keeping it simple - "It is %#&@*%# HOT here!" Perhaps that explains the silence on my blog for a while. I have been sapped of ideas and drained of words - not to mention that I really prefer to sit in the a/c cool (Rajani's lingo) and do nothing!!

I'll tell you something else that tells you how bad it is: we are considering installing fans in the bathrooms. Why, you ask? (It is not that unusual in Chennai to have fans fitted in bathrooms) Leisurely as my time in there usually is, and seldom is any strain involved, I am drenched to the bones by the time I am through - and I am not talking about taking a shower! Women who have travelled to India in summer can relate when I say what a struggle it is to put on that close-to-the-skin blouse after I have towelled myself dry, and powdered myself like I would a baby's bottom!

On the right is a picture of a bird bath that we set up on the back compound wall of our apartment building to water birds, squirrels, and passing monkeys.

Entire apartments are rarely air-conditioned (room air-cons are the way to go here, and now, the split a/c is ubiquitous in all the new flats. Bedrooms are typically cooled, and in some cases, the living/dining rooms. Split units have their compressors located on the outside for quiet operation, while the large blower/thermostat unit, on the inside wall, is still as unattractive as ever), and the famous Chennai sea breeze doesn't set in till mid to late afternoon, making the time between 10 a.m and 3 p.m a struggle, and a sweaty one at that! The gas stove in the kitchen puts out enormous heat, so as if cooking weren't a chore in itself, it makes it all the more unattractive.

Mangoes, Mangoes everywhere!

Akbar still enjoys his late evening walks to the watermelon stand, which is now a mango stand. He used to eagerly wait to receive the green rinds after Rajani and I were finished with the red and pink parts. We did not think he favored mangoes as much as he did watermelon, but that was before the arrival of one variety called Imam Pasand= Imam's favorite, (the same Imam as in the North African Imam Baldi = Imam fainted, I wonder?) which, in our home, has been renamed Akbar Pasand. After all, we thought, there was the whole skin business, and the matter of the large seed, and the additional matter of the size - the Imam pasand is large enough to fit in to a pair of cupped palms. In all fairness, does Akbar not deserve to enjoy all the Chennai has to offer? He has become such a connoisseur of the finest mangoes, that if the pavement vendor does not stack an pile of Imam pasand, we sniff briefly, and walk right on! (No vendor has ever offered him one. The damaged ones are saved for the monkeys that hang in the branches above, for, unlike Akbar, they will not politely wait to be offered one.)

During all our visits to the India in June and July, we always felt that the jasmines and mangoes adequately made up for the physical discomfort caused by temperature and humidity. I dare to go on record to say that May does not! The other uncomfortable thought that I've been having since the US made a trade agreement with India to dump Harley Davidsons on Indian roads, in return for Indian mangoes in US grocery stores, is that we are not getting the best mangoes in Chennai anymore!!! The alphonso was barely OK, the peethars were decent, the Akbar Pasand - well, at least Akbar liked them, the Banganapallis are definitely not ready yet, and the famous Salem Malgova mango is far too fibrous this year. Are they any better over there?

The new concern that one reads in the papers is the harmful effects of the ripening agent - Calcium Carbide. It is considered toxic, and people are beginning to feel its effects - respiratory problems, rashes on the skin, itchy eyes, and other not-so-fun stuff. The US had been very concerned about importing Indian mangoes for their excessive exposure to pesticides, and banning the use of certain chemicals was part of the agreement. I find a dark, pebble like piece tucked in to my dozen bananas every now and then. Referred to simply as kal = stone by farmers and local vendors, this insidious chemical is making its way into the Indian body. With an exploding consumer base, and millions of them further away from the food source, the need for transportation, preservation, and in order to supply every kind of vegetable and fruit all through the year, Indian farmers and the retail industry will use whatever it takes to, speaking literally, put food on the table. While old organic ways are being given up, the products of the new organic movement are not accessible or affordable to everyone yet.

In the meanwhile, we will gorge on the artificially ripened mangoes from around India, apples from New Zealand, and pears from China.











Four wheels no more!

For Rajani, the only summer homework from Sudha Aunty, was to learn to ride the bicycle without training wheels. And, we are happy to report that in the last couple of weeks, she has made great progress. I am putting up a 30-second video (biker_dudette.mpg) of which 20 seconds are her trying to push off! It was shot in the parking area of our apartment building. You'll have glimpses of Akbar and Ramesh, as well. Enjoy!

On May Day, Rajani and I took the metro train from the still-being built Indira Nagar station (one of the many edifices around Chennai, designed to fatten the wallets of the building contractor) to the terminus, at the Beach Station. Needless to say, it was terribly exciting - for both of us!







On the right, getting know Grand Aunt Ganga, on Ramesh's side, and cousins.





I'll leave you with another Dheekshithar composition - Vande Meenakshi, that she recently mastered, and a couple of sarali varisais = scales, per Ranjani's request. Music lessons are taking a summer break too, as her teacher is involved in a 3-week house-painting project. And school reopens on the 5th of June with my little girl going to 2nd grade!!!

After finally locating a good caregiver for Akbar, we were able to join my sister and her husband on a road trip to Kodaikanal, in the salubrious hills of Tamil Nadu state. My observations on the National Highway project, highway driving in India, and holidaying with the masses in my next post, which, I promise, will come up soon!

Those of you who might enjoy a pictorial blog, I would like to recommend Rauf's whitesroad.blogspot.com, Ramesh's photographer friend. Rauf takes amazing pictures - of his professional and personal travel photographs of India. Enjoy.

Keep those comments coming - on and off the blog. Thank you for visiting. Ta Ta!

School's Out and the Heat's On!

Happy Vishu, Happy Tamil New Year (called Sarvajith) to everyone! We celebrated it on the 14th of April, and had members of family over for lunch on Sunday. The dried neem flowers, from my earlier entry, were used in the sweet-sour-bitter chutney that we traditionally make that day - to denote how the year is indeed a mixture of everything - happy, sad, bitter, and sweet.

With our US taxes filed, I can now return to blogging.

With the arrival of the new year comes the hotter season. The months of Chittirai and Vaigasi in the Tamil calendar are known for their seering and unrelenting heat, and near 90% humidity. Mid-day temperatures are hovering between 32 (89.6 F) and 36 (96.8 F) degrees Celsius. Akbar seems unfazed by the sun on our noon-hour quickie-walk. I am the one wilting the heat! One breaks in to a sweat just at the exertion of toweling oneself dry after a shower, and overcoming the desire to have another shower is in itself is exhausting. (No, I do not exaggerate!) And yet, the worst is still to come. 40 and 42 degree temperatures await us in May. It is not uncommon to hear of the elderly or the homeless succumbing in this heat. Schools are mercifully closed, and we enjoy quiet, cool afternoons indoors, with outings planned in the mornings or late evenings.

Rajani is making good progress in her music lessons, inspite of losing many more front teeth (we tease her that we can only hear her hissing!). I am sharing two new notes that she has learnt in Shankarabharanam - Vara shiva balam, and Shyamale Meenakshi. Check 'em out if you have a minute. She is having a ball - having sleep overs with grandma and Geetha periamma. She is getting to meet other cousins, and friends' children her age, and hopefully, this summer, bond further with them.

As a little girl, I used to enjoy picking marudhani leaves, grinding them to a paste, and staining my fingertips red. Popularly known as henna or mehandi, these leaves are said to cool the body, and it was traditional to apply the paste in the summer months. After dinner, and the household chores done with, the girls of the family made their beds, and had aunts and grandmothers put it on for them. Boys too got it on their toes, and on the soles of their feet. With both hands covered in green paste, taking care of those little itches that come only when one's hands are not available, or straightening that sheet over one's body just so, fell to the aunts, mothers and grandmothers. The next morning, there was a rush out to wash off the paste and see how red the stain turned out. Body chemistry played a part in why some got it just orange, while the others got it bright red.

Rajani, true to form, loves putting on marudhani. Earlier this week, she spent a night with my mother, who applied the paste. Grandfather was there to take care of the itches & that pesky sheet, and the next morning, her hands turned out pretty darned red! The stain on the palm will slowly fade away, while the nails will stay orange until they grow out. This is the old fashioned style of applying the paste. Today, the norm, imported from North India and the Islamic tradition, is to have highly detailed artistic designs drawn. Brides will have henna applied up to their elbows!

The Cocount and its Myriad Uses

All independent (single family) homes in Chennai, with any property, will have a mango tree, a banana tree, possibly a couple of lemon trees, perhaps a neem, and most certainly, several coconut trees. Like the banana tree, whose every part is useful, the cocount is a pretty versatile one too. On this property at Indira Nagar, stand three, and every few months, a coconut tree climber is called to pick coconuts and prune the big leaves. You know it is time to call the climber when you narrowly miss one or two falling on your head, or at the very least, on your car! Today, I learnt, from the tree climber and our maid, that it is a bad omen to have a coconut branch fall on your head. (It comes from the practice of cremating corpses laid on dried coconut branches.) So, when the climber comes calling that there are several dry branches, one usually paid him to climb up and de-leaf.

Summer is a great time to enjoy cool coconut water, and you can tell if a coconut has lots of water or has matured to having more of the white in it, by its weight. My sister was recalling how in my grandmother's house, tender coconut were stored cool by dropping them in the backyard well! They floated, stayed cool, and when you needed one, you just sent a pail down and fished one up! (Reminded me a little of how we kayaked in Prince William Sound with eggs in the water!)

The climber used a cool harness for his waist and feet, and climbed up a 50-foot tree in no time. He then pruned the branches to create a bed on which to drop the coconuts.
Spending about 20 minutes on each tree, he downed an average of 35 coconuts per tree. At the end of the busy morning, we had about 90 coconuts down, and another 20 tender ones, great for just drinking the water - all to be shared among the three families who live in the
apartment building.

Below is our climber (and check out his really cool fanny pack!), slicing the top off the coconut, and chipping a hole to drink the water from. He is typically paid 20-25 Rupees for every tree he climbs. His three children go to school, and have not been taught to climb trees. With his generation will die the coconut tree climber profession, and thirty years down the road will evolve the arborist with his fancy equipment that will reach up pluck the coconut from the tree (and I doubt if it will share a tender coconut with us!)

Fairly soon after our tree climber had started his work, an old man appeared, asking if he would take away the coconut leaves - I really should call them fronds. He proceeded to remove remove the green part of each leaf in a frond, and pull out its spine. These pliable sticks, about 75-100 of them make a broom - like the one next to the blue bucket in the neighbor's yard below. Like I said, everything about a coconut tree has its uses. At the end of the day, nothing was wasted.














Bye for now!

Kapali!

Learning About Trees:

Rajani's Learning Tree school has three spaces - all named after trees: the tall Ashoka, the broad Banyan, and the flowering Gul-Mohar. She now knows the first two well, as we often spot them on our drive to the IIT campus. Here she is, on the left, under the Ashoka tree, just outside Ramesh's department, DoMS.

Below is the majestic Banyan. Its vines drop to the ground, take root, and grow in to broad stems, widening the girth of the tree each year. We see several monkeys on these trees.

















The annual Chariot Festival at the Kapali Temple in Mylapore:

Ramesh's neighborhood, Mylapore, is home to the ancient Kapaleeshwarar Temple, said to have been around since atleast 1250 CE. The lore is that Parvathi, Shiva's wife, in the form of a peacock, worshipped him here. Thus the name Mayila-pore (pronounced mayeela-pour), meaning city of peacocks. Every year, Lord Shiva, here known as Kapali, has a day out on the town, in his 100-foot tall chariot. Hundreds of devotees draw the chariot, and it is altogether a great experience, for the spiritually inclined, the mechanically inclined, and for the fun festival atmosphere. He is preceded by his first son, Ganesha, followed by his wife, in her own separate chariot, who is followed by her other son, Murga. Here are a few pictures from the festival, taken on the morning of Friday, the 27th. We were there between 6:00 a.m. and 8:30 a.m.
On the left, the chariot is ready and waiting for Lord Shiva to arrive. Below: wonderful hand made toys are sold at the festival. I have memories of being bought some neat wooden toys. Today, limited choice among very poorly made toys are the norm.

















Left: a glimpse of the replendent Lord, adorned in garlands inside the chariot, guarded by gana-boodhams or dwara-balas.













Left: while the task of pulling the chariot falls to the devotees, (it is considered a great privilege), the mechanics of turning the chariot as it travers around the temple is the responsibility of these young men with sticks. No motorized or mechanical device is used. It is good old-fashioned laws of physics, wooden wedges, and man (yes, only men) power.






Left: Decorations on the chariot.













A Rare Treat!

On Tuesday, the 27th, Rajani's music teacher, Usha Padmanabhan, (and as of Monday, mine!) performed at the Music Academy Mini Hall, upon having received an endowment award. She sang select Sanskrit krithis composed by Sri Thayagaraja:

After warming up with
Devathi deva sadashiva - Sindhu ramakriya - Adhi, and Janaki ramana - Sudha seemandhini - Adhi,
she took off with Sri Naradha natha in Kaanada - Roopakam.
A very nice Panthuvarali followed with Shambo Mahadeva, with neraval and swarams at Amboruha padhambhuja. A brisk Mamava raghunatha in Jaganmohini followed, as did Bhajare Bhaja Maanasa in ragam Kannada. Another rare krithi (to my ears) was Varashiki vagana vaarija lochana in Supradheepam. A most excellent and expansive Kamboji was the prelude to the Sri Raghu varaaprameya maamava, sung like a swarajithi, with swaras preceeding the anupallavi, and each of the three charanams. She concluded the concert with Thavadha soham in Punnagavarali, and followed it up with a Madhyamavathi mangalam and Srutti slokam. It was altogether a very solid performance for 2 hours and 15 minutes and she had great support in Nellai Balaji on the mridangam.

I also heard Vasundara Rajagopal (Nisha Rajagopal's mother), who also sang pretty well, and tackled Janaranjani for about 30 minutes.

Savitha Narasimhan's was another excellent concert. She is said to be a child prodigy, having identified ragas at age 3 (wouldn't that make Swathi a prodigy too? I remember her calling out "Behag!" at 2 and 1/2 in Sydney!) She learns from RaviKiran and sings sampradhaya music. Her main pieces were Varali and Mohanam (Kapali!).

After years of listening to Sriram Gangadharan on tapes and cds, I finally got to hear him live at Hamsadhwani last Friday. It was a treat indeed! His voice is his strength and it does whatever he wants it to do. But alas, his lack of thronging audience as for Sanjay, is his literal copying of the GNB style, they say, and not developing one of his own. He sang a rare SruthiRanjani, the famous Thamadhamen Swami in, Thodi. He also served up a couple of compositions from his repetoire of Nandhanar Charithram.


Goodbye until the next post, if I have survived the painters who take over the house tomorrow! Posted on April 4th, 2007

Photographs - Rajani

Rajani's room is complete, now that it has a white board to play "teacher." Note her hair cut. She decided one day that she wanted her hair cut short.

Here are a couple of pictures of her school. The perfect climbing tree (the learning tree?) which she has learnt to climb, and then jump on to a nearby window ledge for a peek into a classroom. Children play outside until the bell rings at 9 a.m.















Children bring their snack and lunch in an open "koodai" or plastic basket. Here she is turning in her library book before heading for the "sloka children's room," where she spends the morning with 1st and 2nd graders.