Uncoding Kodi

I have fond memories of an earlier time, when school excursions from Madurai were invariably to Kodaikanal, where friendships were forged over smuggled cigarettes and teen romances kindled on post-dinner walks. I have grown up since, and so has Kodaikanal, which now aspires to upgrade from ‘Princess of Hill Stations’ to ‘Queen’. Lately, although I steer clear of tourist attractions like Chettiar Park, Bryant Park, Coaker’s Walk and Pillar Rocks, I absently revert to calling this beloved hill station by its touristy nickname, Kodi. 

I can’t help notice how some things remain the same and some have changed. The man-made lake, a brain child of Vere Henry Levinge, continues to be the tourist hub, with bicycles and horses for hire, and street-food indulgences of steamed peanuts and roasted corn-on-the-cob seasoned with lime, fiery chilli powder and salt. The next generation of cherubic toddlers of Tibetan origin cling to their mothers’ chubas in shops selling woollens. The fruit stalls near the Bus Stand continue to sell plums that are always too ripe to behold and too sour to devour. The homemade chocolates industry has grown by leaps and bounds and the Cheese Factory is renowned for its cheddar. Suicide Point has long since shed its besmirched reputation and now goes by the real-estate-friendly name of Green Valley View.

Unlike Ooty which has long since been ravaged by tourism, I hoped Kodi would remain pristine. But I also itch to do something different, delve to find a deeper personal connection to the place. This is where a nature guide like Kumar comes in.

Kumar leads treks and nature walks in and around Kodaikanal and staunchly follows the adage, ‘Take only pictures, leave only footprints’. He also believes that the Forest Department is justified in keeping some lush parts of the forest, particularly the area around Berijam Lake, off limits for tourist invaders.

Over the years, Kumar has added numerous words and phrases to our nature vocabulary - Hipericum, yellow raspberry, wild passion fruit, wild lemon, blue gum, acacia bark and numerous kinds of lichen. We learned from him that the ‘idli-flower’, with its flower-head that looks like the South Indian steamed rice-cake, is hydrangea that grows blue in these parts because of the high iron content in the soil. Thankfully, Kumar steers clear of mentioning the famed blue Kurinji, whose blooming once in 12 years in these hills I have been unfortunate to miss thrice over.

On one of Kumar’s treks, we met two tireless German farmers who walked on ahead discussing botanical names of the trees that they passed, while we wheezed weakly to catch up with them. Another time, we trudged up a hill to a little house that hugged the side of a steep hillside where we met someone who was presumed to be skilled at crafting moccasins the Native American way. I had my Pied Piper moment when we walked through a village handing out many kilos of ripe plums to the children of the village who pursued us till we ran out of fruit.   

This is the other, less touristy side to Kodi that I have the privilege of experiencing, one that compels me to return.

This morning, we are blessed with glorious weather on a half-day nature walk with Kumar and a few other trekkers. The sun is only now beginning to slant into the Sholas, shooting slivers of light through the dense foliage that is still dripping moisture from last night’s rain. I inhale the wet, lush, earthy aroma and try to memorise the smell of this morning so I can summon it to mind in the throes of rush hour in the city. The others in our group have moved ahead but I decide to take it slow, attempting to capture some of the experience in futile megapixels.

I feel something brush against the side of my leg, and jump back to let Shiva bound ahead of us. He is impatient for the opportunity to play ‘fetch’ and frequently jumps into ponds to retrieve sticks, liberally drenching us in the process. Ever since as a child I was chased by a ferocious dog, I have always been nervous even around an even-tempered Labrador like Shiva.

I admire the sight of a bunch of worms that walk in a weird manner on the shaded path. I crouch to get a good angle to capture the mid-air wiggle that these worms make. Kumar usually sets his pace by those in the group who lag behind and I’m not surprised to find him standing nearby, observing me. But I am focussed on capturing for digital posterity, this mysterious type of worm that uses both ends of its body to maneuver its way.

“If I were you,” says Kumar in a hushed voice, “I would be very still.”

In these parts, it is not uncommon to come across a Gaur, an Indian Bison that is indigenous to the region. I remember seeing one on a previous trek, a majestic beast with large horns, a muscular back and legs seemingly clad in white-socks. It stared us down with unfathomable eyes for an unnerving duration of time.

I whisper, “Is it a Gaur? Is it behind us?”

“No, but you are inches away from photographing a leech.”

I stand up in a rush, stomping my feet and brushing away hundreds of imaginary leeches that could catapult me into a low-budget ‘forest adventure-gone-wrong’ movie. In my haste, I’ve dropped my camera and hesitate to reach for it, as I look frantically for a sunny patch in which to examine my shoes.To my alarm, the leeches are all over the shaded sections, and for the rest of the morning, we stop occasionally to dislodge them from our shoes and socks.The others walk on, unperturbed, using their bare fingers to pick leeches off their ankles.

We walk along gurgling streams and sun-drenched grasslands, but the morning is ruined for me. I fear that unspeakable horrors might be hovering over our heads, and in this case, it was indeed right under under my nose. This wasn’t the discovery I had in mind and I now have a compulsive need to  check my footwear for imaginary blood-engorged worms that I’m anyway not supposed to feel.  

On completing the walk, we pile into the back of a pickup truck. Kumar and the rest of the group sit among chatty village folk who take to Shiva rather effortlessly. I give him a wide berth and shrink against the side of the truck, examining my socks yet again, silently cursing them all for being nonchalant about leeches.

Near the town centre, we alight from the pickup truck and walk along steep paths that have not seen tar in decades. Kumar leads us through an upper road that overlooks the site of ‘The Church Under The Hill’, the first church to be erected here in 1858, with a roof that some claim, was made entirely of biscuit tins. All that remains is a granite pillar marking the spot, and a cemetery around it. In all the years I have visited Kodi, the engraved history on those old tombstones have been kept out of bounds for us by ferocious hounds that seem to be the guardians of the cemetery. Shiva seems very mild in comparison and I decide, quite on a whim, to befriend him.

We finally stop at a cafe for refreshments, and I ask to hold Shiva’s leash. I have no idea what to do and I sit on a bench awaiting the coffee and chocolate brownie I have ordered. Shiva sits on his haunches regarding me. He finally decides to take charge and walks up to me. I look into his eyes and stroke his forehead. His tail wags joyfully and I am emboldened to stroke his back.

In that moment I make two discoveries. I have a mortal fear of leeches, and I am a little less afraid of Labradors.

GETTING THERE -

Kodaikanal is a hill station in the Palani Hills, about 500 km from Chennai. The nearest airport is Madurai (120 km) or Trichy (150 km). The nearest railway station is Kodaikanal Road (80 kms).

LEECH THERAPY

Dhanvantari, who is the Hindu god of medicine, is usually depicted holding in his four hands, auspicious symbols such as nectar, conch, disc and a leech. One of the forms of Ayurvedic therapy for conditions like varicose veins and eczema is Jalauka Vacharana that makes use of leeches for treatment.  

BLUE KURINJI FLOWER

Strobilanthes Kunthiana blooms every 12 years in the Nilgiris and Palani Hills. The next blooming is presumed to be in 2018.

GAUR, THE INDIAN BISON

The Gaur is one of the largest living land animals in South East Asia. In India, it is found predominantly in and near the Western Ghats. With a body length that can go up to 11 feet, Gaurs can easily weigh a ton.

Pics by author

An edited version of this article was published in the June 2014 issue of Culturama.

Butter Tea and Conversation

It must be a cunning curse from Hermes, the Greek god of travel. I always seem to leave something unfinished on my holiday itinerary. At one level, it irks my Type A personality to have anything left unticked on a list. At another level, I am told by well meaning travel partners, that this gives me reason to return.  

The last time we visited the Bylakuppe Tibetan Settlement in the early 2000s, it was a journey spurred by the whimsical idea of getting a glimpse of Tibetan life a short drive away from Mysore, Karnataka. The idea was so whimsical that we forgot to carry a camera. 

Bylakuppe was supposedly halfway to Madikeri, Coorg. We estimated it to be an easy afternoon drive, with a couple of hours for sauntering around at the Settlement and back home for an early dinner. However, the distance to Bylakuppe proved to be about at least twenty kilometres more than we had estimated and the additional distance meant that we had less time to saunter before sundown. 

I remember tall trees flanking the highway, resplendent with Tibetan prayer flags, leading up to the turn-off to Bylakuppe Tibetan Settlement, the Golden Temple at the Namdroling Monastery. But back then, all we had time for was the Golden Temple, where we gazed in awe at the giant statues and resplendent paintings on the walls. I regretted not having enough time for a proper exploration of the place and to indulge in my fantasy of perhaps nursing a cup of hot butter tea as the Tibetan who runs the eatery narrates inspiring tales about how the early settlers converted this arid expanse to arable land.

It’s been nearly fifteen years and Bylakuppe is firmly on the agenda this time, albeit en route to Madikeri. We have Google Maps, we have web resources to guide us and we pass signages until Hunsur. We even have a camera. More importantly, we have a plan to spend a couple of hours on focussed sauntering, drinking in culture and hot butter tea in equal measure.

Before we know it, we’ve missed the turn-off. However, the highway seems bereft of tall trees and I search for the Tibetan prayer flags that heralded the way the previous time. We backtrack and choose a road that looks unfamiliar but promising, thanks to the profusion of Tibetans in the vicinity. I cross my fingers and hope this is indeed the right road.

I remember the sense of incongruity from my previous trip. We pass Tibetan Buddhist monks riding bikes, spilling out of share-autos and buying supplies at small shops whose names are written not in the angular flourish of the Tibetan script, but in curving Kannada lettering!

The road winds through small clusters of houses and intermittently, open land where there is little shade, when we suddenly spot bursts of bright colours, fluttering happily in the breeze. Belated, but welcome confirmation all the same. The prayer flags transform the surrounding landscape into a sacred kaleidoscope of colour. We even spot a unit en route that prints them, and make a mental note to check it out on the way back.            

We follow the signs, some printed, some handwritten and finally arrive at our destination, the Golden Temple. While India is home to several Tibetan settlements, the first to be set up was the Lugsung Samdupling Settlement at Bylakuppe, Karnataka in 1960. According to the Central Tibetan Relief Committee, it is also one of the largest settlements in India, spread across 3210 acres. A second settlement in Bylakuppe came up in 1969, called Dickyi Larsoe and it is spread across 2000 acres.

The Logsum Samdupling settlement itself has five monasteries, and we make our way towards the Namdroling Nyingmapa Monastery that houses the Golden Temple. Walking into the precincts of the Namdroling Monastery through its ornate archway, we cross the neatly maintained yard and buildings with multicolour trims and then take the path to the prayer halls, passing through the courtyard garden with the occasional turkey scurrying about on the grass. The monks’ quarters are clustered around this garden and every doorway is decorated with auspicious festoons and doorway curtains in bright fabric. The monks, draped in maroon and ochre robes, hurry towards the prayer halls, where they are seated in neat rows, their droning voices dipping and rising, with the steady beat of an accompanying drum. It is rousing and calming at once. It sounds as though a thousand bees have congregated under one roof, droning in unison.

The Golden Temple is less gold and more colour. It looks taller than the last time I was here and I realise it has acquired an ornate wheel-like frame that forms a backdrop. The exterior has handpainted frescoes on the outer walls and statues on each storey of the vihara and on the wheel backdrop. Khatas or auspicious white scarfs, symbolising offerings of goodwill are tied on the large red doors to the temple.

Inside, three large statues dominate one end of the hall – the 60 ft Buddha Shakyamuni and the slightly smaller statues of Guru Padmasambhava and Buddha Amitayus. The structures hold holy relics and are made of copper, plated with gold. The walls behind the statues and all around the hall bear testimony to the painting traditions of Tantric Buddhism, replete with paintings of teachers, scholars and disciples of the Buddhas and numerous gods and goddesses, some smiling benevolently while others wrathfully bare their fangs.

At the canteen, the absence of butter tea doesn’t augur well. The canteen does, however, have momos (steamed dumplings) and thukpa (noodle broth) and we try to get the lady behind the counter to talk. She looks to be about thirty five and wears a pangden apron over her chuba (robe), that traditionally suggests that she is a married woman. She says that she was born here, which explains her effortless instructions in the Kannada language to the young boy working in the canteen. But she doesn’t talk much, only stopping to point out the portrait of Penor Rinpoche, who established the monastery in 1963. We valiantly try to finish the bowl of bland Thukpa without dribbling it over our chins and struggle through steamed momos stuffed with what I’m convinced is surely a local adaptation with the Kannadiga penchant for soppu (greens) and alugadde (potato).

We must be on our way, onward to Madikeri, but I have a vague sense of dissatisfaction as though I haven’t seen enough. Just as we’re winding our way towards the highway, we remember the Tibetan flags. I finally get my chance to learn more about the Tibetans in Bylakuppe when I meet Jampagelek who runs the Bhodjong Prayer Flag Printing Centre. 

“Tibetans regard prayer flags as sacred.”, he says “It is believed that the prayers they hold are carried by the wind to benefit all humanity. Prayer flags are hung auspiciously on the first 14 days of the lunar cycle, when the moon is on the ascent. The flags have sacred mantras printed on them, and this is why they should not be allowed to fall on the ground or come underfoot. When the flags become old and begin to come apart, they can be discarded by burning and a new set can be put up.” 

In 1959, Jampagelek’s parents and elder brother fled from Tibet and arrived in Sikkim through the Nathu La Pass. They led a difficult life as coolies and construction workers and this was where Jampagelek was born. When he was six years old, the family moved to Bylakuppe where the settlement had been established. After completing his primary education, Jampagelek studied Buddhist Philosophy at Sarnath and returned to Bylakuppe to begin the prayer flag unit. He says, “In the old days, these flags were made using wooden blocks which made the lettering illegible. I have type-set all the mantras and use the computer to lay out the content and then screen print it on to the fabric.”

We leave Bylakuppe after purchasing a packet full of flags that Jampagelek has kindly picked out specially for me. He gives me flags with the Wind Horse, a symbol of good fortune, health and happiness. The flag with the Wind Horse in the centre also has four other animals in the corners- Garuda, Dragon, Snow Lion and the Tiger. Collectively, the five symbols hope to evoke the dynamism of these five animals in the spirit. It is said to be specifically beneficial for people who are writing exams, travelling to faraway lands and to energise a lazy family member. I’m going to assume that the travel part is the only one that’s relevant to me.

Back home, when the next new moon cycle begins, we fasten these colourful flags on the railings of the verandah and wait for the possibilities to unfold. It has been an unfinished journey yet again. Maybe Wind Horse will hasten my return to Bylakuppe, to visit the unit that makes Thangkas, and talk to the owner who, I hope is old enough to have actually lived in Tibet before 1959 and has intriguing tales to narrate over a long pending cup of hot butter tea. 

TIBETAN PRAYER FLAGS 
Jampagelek shows us both the Dharchen which is a pole flag and the Mugthak Lung Thar - a composition of five flags, in the symbolic colours, Blue (Sky), White(Wind), Red(Fire), Green(Water) and Yellow(Earth), fastened with a rope between poles.

There is a central spiritual figure in each flag - usually the Wind Horse, Tara, Padma Sambhava and Avalokeswara - surrounded by the relevant Sanskrit mantra written in Tibetan calligraphic script. Each flag has spiritual relevance to the deity being invoked and personal relevance to the household it is hung over.

There are also small festoons for the entrance to homes with the same five colours, but with the sacred mantra, Om Mani Padme Hum printed across them. 

HOW TO GET THERE 

Bylakuppe is about 240 kms from Bengaluru and 87 kms from Mysore on the Mysore-Madikeri Road.

NOTE: Foreign nationals are advised to get in touch with www.tibetbureau.in, the official bureau of His Holiness The Dalai Lama, about applying for a Protected Area Permit (PAP) that is required to visit or stay at the Tibetan settlements in India. It is advisable to contact the office by telephone first.     

Pics by author.

An edited version of this article was published in the April 2014 issue of Culturama.

Palaces Of India

If a palace converted to a luxury hotel is not really your cup of tea, here's a glimpse into

some royal residences, famous and lesser known, where you can let your imagination run riot. Some palaces have been converted to museums and some continue to be used partially as the residences of royal descendants. In some palaces, come dusk, the Son-et-Lumeire brings alive halls and pavilions echoing with legends of romance, valour and sacrifice. 

14^th CENTURY 

RANI PADMINI PALACE, CHITTAURGARH, RAJASTHAN

Indian history is replete with legends of queens who showed great valour when faced with the threat of invading enemy forces. One such story is that of Rani Padmini, also called Padmavati, the second wife of the Rajput king, Rawal Ratan Singh. In 1303, when Allahuddin Khilji caught a glimpse of the Rani, he wanted to take her by force and attacked the kingdom. Seeing no other honourable means to escape, the Queen and the women of kingdom performed a mass immolation, traditionally called Jauhar so that their men could unflinchingly martyr themselves in battle. The Rana Kumbha palace is said to be the site of the Jauhar. A reconstructed water palace of the Rani stands today as testimony to the aesthetics of those times. 

PADMANABHAPURAM PALACE, THUCKALAY, TAMIL NADU/KERALA 
Although it is located in Tamil Nadu, the palace is officially part of the Government of Kerala and about 60 km from Thiruvananthapuram. Named after the presiding deity of the royal family, the palace is presumed to have been originally constructed in the 14^th century and many of the rooms of the now-standing structure were added on subsequently. This palace was the seat of the Travancore kings until the capital was shifted in 1795 to Thiruvananthapuram in today's Kerala. As Indian palaces go, this one is modest, sans the pomp and grandeur one would attribute to Indian palaces. It does have its share of intricate carvings on some pillars, wall murals and an array of artifacts on display. But the palace is noted more as a glorious example of Kerala's architectural heritage and the innate simplicity of traditional Keralan lifestyle. Do ask about about the black flooring you see there. 

15^th CENTURY

GWALIOR FORT PALACE COMPLEX, GWALIOR, MADHYA PRADESH 

While the Gwalior fort has also seen its share of Jauhar and presumed to be the site where the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb ordered the execution of his brother, Murad, there is also a sweet little romantic story that resonates in these precincts. King Maan Singh Tomar was a great patron of music. The king eventually fell in love with a village girl from the Gujar community called Mriganayani and married her on fullfilling her condition that she be built a separate palace with water supply via an aqueduct. Mriganayani's palace in this fort is called Gujari. Do visit Maan Singh's Man Mandir Palace too. Tansen began his journey to being a great composer of Hindustani music, under Maan Singh's patronage and it was here that the musical tradition of Dhrupad began to flourish. The Son-et-Lumeire at the fort recounts, amongst other stories, the story of Maan Singh, Mriganayani and the music that evolved in those times. 

16TH CENTURY

CITY PALACE COMPLEX, UDAIPUR, RAJASTHAN 
 If there is one place that will dominate your visit to Udaipur, it would be the this one. Originally built by Maharana Udai Singh in 1553, the complex has lofty archways, ornate balconies and resplendent halls built in both Mughal and Rajput architectural styles. The museum houses a fine collection of miniature paintings, royal clothing, accessories and armour. Do visit the Mor Chowk with its intricate mosaic work featuring India's national bird, the peacock. 

BAAZ BAHADUR'S PALACE AND RUPMATI'S PAVILION, MANDU, MADHYA PRADESH 

While Mandu has a history that far pre-dates the legend of Rani Rupmati and Baaz Bahadur, it is this romantic story that has seeped into the folk songs of the region. Baaz Bahadur's love for music was rivalled only by his love for Rupmati. When Emperor Akbar's general, Adham Khan invaded the region in 1561, the defeated Baaz Bahadur fled, but Rupmati killed herself before being captured. Ahmad-ul-Umri's 'The Lady of the Lotus – Rupmati, Queen of Mandu' contains a brief recounting of the legend as well as poems of love and longing attributed to Rupmati. Rupmati's Pavilion and Baaz Bahadur's Palace in the complex overlook each other, separated only by the Rewa Kund reservoir. Also explore the other palaces in the complex, like Jahaz Mahal and the Hindola Mahal, not linked to the legend. 

AGRA FORT PALACE, AGRA, UTTAR PRADESH 
While the Taj Mahal garners eyeballs at dusk, a more romantic view can be had from the palace inside the Agra Fort. The fort was built by emperor Akbar, completed in 1573, but the palaces inside have been razed and rebuilt depending on who occupied it. Akbar's grandson, Shah Jahan was imprisoned here by his own son, Aurangzeb. From the exquisite white marble Musamman Burj, a splendid view of the Taj Mahal can be had. This balcony is rumoured to have been where Shah Jahan died, gazing at the Taj Mahal. Do visit the Jahangiri Mahal and the Khas Mahal too. The structures are an interesting mix of Hindu and Islamic architecture. 

FORT PALACE COMPLEX, ORCHHA, MADHYA PRADESH 
Orchha is the land of the Bundelas, a community of Rajput warriors renowned for their great sense of asthetics. It is a region rich with the architectural heritage of numerous temple towers, pavilions, cenotaphs and palaces. Admire the intricate trellises and the fine wall art in the Raj Mahal. The Sunder Mahal is now an Islamic pilgrimage spot. The Jehangir Mahal is by far the most imposing of the structures, built in Mughal style to commemmorate the victory of Mughal emperor, Jehangir over King Vir Singh Deo. The Son-et-Lumeire shows at Orccha include the Jehangir Mahal, the Raj Mahal and the Cenotaphs – do check the timing as it differs by season of the year. 

17TH CENTURY

LEH PALACE, LADAKH, JAMMU and KASHMIR 
 If you feel breathless when you look up at the imposing facade of the Leh Palace and the Victory Tower flanking it, it may not necessarily be altitude sickness. It could be awe. The Palace nestled atop a hill was built by King Semgge Namgyal on similar lines to the Potala Palace of Lhasa, Tibet. The nine-storeyed palace is in ruins and currently undergoing restoration, but there are some spectacular views to be had from the top. 

THIRUMALAI NAYAKAR MAHAL, MADURAI, TAMIL NADU 
Built in 1636 by King Thirumalai Nayak and presumably designed by an Italian architect, what remains today of this once-magnificent palace is only a courtyard and a few pavilions. But this is enough to give an insight into the amalgam of the two styles incorporated here – Islamic and Dravidian. The most striking feature of the palace - the 13 metre tall pillars, using a unique plaster of shell lime and egg white for a smooth finish. The pavilions are exquisite in their stucco work depicting celestial beings and winged beasts. If you stay for the Son-et-Lumeire at 6.30 p.m., do take along mosquito repellent. 

19TH CENTURY

MARBLE PALACE, KOLKATA 
A permit is required in advance from the West Bengal Tourism office, to see this neo-classical residential building. A walk through the Marble Palace, built by Raja Rajendra Mullick Bahadur is a fascinating way of acquainting oneself with the ways of the opulent Bengalis of the 1800s. It has a wonderful collection of art, sculpture, furniture and bric a bracs and the name seems to have come from the profusion and variety of marble used in its construction. Since this is also a private residence, some areas may be off-limits. 

20TH CENTURY

MAHARAJAH'S PALACE, MYSORE, KARNATAKA 
The Mysore palace, after being damaged many times over, was finally reconstructed based on the design by British architect, Henry Irwin in the Indo-Saracenic style in 1912. It is the seat of the Wodeyar dynasty of Mysore. During the spectacular 10-day Dussehra festival in September/October, the Palace and the city come vibrantly alive. Pick up an audio-guide and saunter through the various rooms with their exhibits. Absorb the grandeur of the Courtyard, the Private Audience Room, the Public Durbar Hall and the Marriage Hall. On weekends and festival days, the Mysore Palace is illuminated in the evenings. Do drop in at the Jaganmohana Palace and Art Gallery also in Mysore, whose structure predates the Maharaja's Palace. It now houses a wonderful collection of exhibits collected by the Mysore royal family including art by Raja Ravi Varma and Svetoslav Roerich. 

Pic by author

An edited version of this article was published in the April 2012 issue of At A Glance.

Em and the Big Hoom – Jerry Pinto

What is the book about?

At the heart of the story, is the quirky, irrverently funny Imelda Mendes, also called Em, who is also suicidal when in the throes of bipolar disorder. Her husband, Augustine, also called the big Hoom, is the bulwark of the family. The children - Susan and the narrator son, who stays largely unnamed – are given free access to their beloved Em's letters and diaries wherein we discover more of her story, particularly preceding and following her falling in love with Augustine. Somewhere in the midst of Em's flurry of words and the big Hoom's quiet presence, we sense the deep love and regard they have for each other.

Who is it by?

Jerry Pinto is a poet, writer and journalist, and has edited several anthologies of essays and poems. He is especially known his pieces on Bollywood and his book, Helen: The Life and Times of an H-Bomb, that studies the roles played by Bollywood actor Helen to draw a study of morality and sexuality, particularly in the 1960s, as perceived in Indian cinema and society.

Why should I read it?

This defining account of mental illness in a family, is written with such lucidity, humour and great affection that it could only come from a deeply personal space. 

An edited version appeared in the September 2012 Issue of Culturama

Laya Project

What is this album about?

The Laya Project is dedicated to the survivors of the Tsunami of 26th December, 2004. It is a confluence of contemporary sound with originalrecordings of folk music traditions from the South East Asian coastal communities ravaged by the Tsunami.

Who is it by?

The album has 11 tracks featuring folk musicians and vocalists from Sri Lanka, Thailand, Indonesia, Maldives, Myanmar and India. It is produced by Earth Sync, a Chennai-based record label that combines the classical, the folk and the contemporary, and boasts of some unique musical collaborations from different parts of the world.

Why should listen to it?
The album not only documents musical traditions but also maintains the essence of each regional musical tradition within the larger contextual framework of a world music album. The voices of the folk artistes are raw, untrained and soulful in tracks like Ya Allah, Touare and Nium Nium, while the instruments, especially the percussives dominate in tracks like the vibrant Tapatham and Prem Jam.

Available in formats such as CD, DVD as well as downloadable digital audio files.

An edited version of this article appeared in the August 2012 Issue of Culturama

Games Indians Play - Kabaddi

Kabaddi (ka-bad-ddee) is a team sport with seven to ten players in each team on court and a few in reserve. The court is divided into two sides, each team dominating a side until the break when they swap sides for the second half of the match.

If Team A wins the toss, they send out a 'raider' whose objective is to touch as many of Team B's players as possible in their own side, and return to his side within 30 seconds, all while chanting the word 'kabaddi' over and over again. Team B's Defenders try to contain him on their side of the court. If the Team A player is not able to return to the Team A court, he is declared out and the Defending side gets a point. If the Team A player manages to return, he gets a point and the Team B player he touched has to exit the game. The side with the highest points wins the match.

Kabaddi is presumed to have originated in India. It is also known as Chadugudu and Hu-tu-tu and its variations are played across South Asia. It is the National Game of Bangladesh.

An edited version of this article was published in the August 2012 issue of At A Glance.

Indian Textile Traditions - Ponduru Khadi

Khadi (khaa-dee) is the name given to hand-spun and hand-woven fabric, either cotton, silk or wool. Mahatma Gandhi promoted Khadi as part of his movement for Swadesh (self-sustenance) during the Indian freedom struggle.

Ponduru, in the Srikakulam District of the southern Indian state of Andhra Pradesh, is known for its handwoven Khadi dhotis made of fine cotton. The fabric is colloquially called Ponduru Khaddar.

The cotton sourced for Pondur Khadi is known as short-staple hill variety. The Khadi Village Industries Commission refers to the cotton used for the Ponduru variety as being 100% eco-friendly as the crop is grown without fertilizers.

Normally in creating the yarn, the process of loosening the seeds from the fluff of the cotton is carried out mechanically. However, in Ponduru, even this is done by hand using a rather unique instrument - the jaw of a locally available river fish! Once the seeds are separated from the fluff, the yarn is spun on a spinning wheel. The weaving then takes place on a hand loom. The fabric is famous for its fine texture that is attributed to the process of hand-spinning and weaving.

An edited version of this article appeared in Culturama's September 2012 Issue.

Uniquely Indian - Mysore Devaraja Market

There have been at least two fires here, and a section of the roof has given way at least once before, but the Devaraja Market continues to thrive as the nucleaus of the commercial hub in Mysore, Karnataka. The market has a rectangular plan, with many entrances and two distinct arches in the North and the South. The Dufferin Clock Tower, locally called the Chikku Gadiyara (small clock) stands opposite one of the entrances to the Market. All the requirements of every day life in Mysore, from vegetables, fruits and flowers to woks, clocks and medicines are available in and around the Market. There are bakeries, medical stores and fancy shops on the periphery of the market, facing outwards, still in business after decades. Inside the market, there are rows of shops and stalls, selling anything from dessicated coconut to vegetables to fruits to perfume. Strands and garlands of the famous Mysore Mallige (jasmine flowers) are available in the flower stalls here. Leading off the market, nothing exists, sadly, of the streets evocatively called Onduvarane Galli (One-and-a-half Anna Street) and Nalakuaane Galli (Four-Annas Street), perhaps named after the price of the merchandise available on that street in days of yore. 

An edited version of this article appeared in Culturama's September 2012 Issue.

 

Interpretation - Buddhist Monks with Begging Bowls

A ‘patra’ or begging bowl holds symbolic importance for Buddhists, and there are numerous legends about the Buddha having begged for alms. In some sects of Buddhism, groups of monks, like the ones in the picture, head out early in the morning in single file to beg and receive alms of food, money and items of ritual worship. The focus is not so much on the giver or receiver as much as on the act itself, where a monk or nun will receive alms with no ego, expectation or attachment and the lay Buddhist will give alms in the same spirit.

An edited version of the article was published in Culturama's December 2012 Issue.

Selected Stories by Saadat Hasan Manto

What is the book about?

This collection contains some of Saadat Hasan Manto's best-known stories set in India and Pakistan during the period of the Partition in the 1940s, about the forgotten, the displaced and the marginalised in both societies. Women, especially prostitutes, feature prominently in this collection of his stories and he writes about them with none of the lasciviousness of the voyeur.

The Dog of Titwal and The Last Salute reveal the mindset of the border security forces of the two countries. There are wonderfully nuanced stories, like A Wet Afternoon and The Blouse, about the stirrings of sexual awareness. Manto's best loved story is the darkly comic Toba Tek Singh, where he speculates on what would happen if India and Pakistan exchanged mental asylum inmates on the basis of religion.

Who is it by?

Manto has been long regarded as one of the most prolific writers of Urdu fiction. His disdain for hypocrisy and his unvarnished depiction of sexuality earning him as many brickbats as admirers.

Translated from the Urdu originals by Khalid Hassan, the stories preserve the combination of irony, intensity and brevity that has come to be recognized as Manto's writerly voice.

Why should I read it?

The charm of the book is as much in the author's intensely human voice as the milieu in which his stories are set – the political climate bears an eerie resemblance to the testy relationship between the two countries today.

An interesting piece of trivia is that the book cover is of a painting by Iqbal Hussain, renowned for his portraiture of prostitutes in Hira Mandi, Lahore, Pakistan, where he lives.

An edited version of the article was published in Culturama's July 2012 Issue.

The Best of Wadali Brothers

What is this album about?

This is one of the few albums by the Wadali Brothers, well known exponents in the vocal musical tradition inspired by the Sufi poets. This mini-album contains three of their most popular songs - Tu Maane Ya Na Maane, Ghoonghat Chuk O Sajana and Duma Dum Mast Qalandar, giving a glimpse into the raw devotion that their music is renowned for.

Who is it by?

Ustad Puranchand and Ustad Piyarelal Wadali belong to Punjab and are the fifth generation in a line of Sufi singers. While they have sung for film and cut music albums, they have a clear preference for live shows over recordings. They have been awarded the Sangeet Natak Academy award in 1991 and the older of the two brothers, Ustad Puranchand has been awarded the Padmashri in the Arts category by the Indian Government in 2005.

Why should listen to it?

Sufi music has always been traditionally performed at dargahs (shrines) of Sufi saints and they express different forms of longing for the divine. While Bollywood has incorporated a lot of Sufi music into soundtracks, the Wadali brothers believe that their songs are voice offerings to the divine - their music is perhaps the next best thing to hearing a live performance at a Sufi shrine.

An edited version of the article was published in Culturama's July 2012 Issue.

Parzania

What is the movie about?

Cyrus Pithawala (Nasseruddin Shah), a Parsi film projectionist befriends Allan (Corin Nemec) an American on a downward spiral, who is in Ahmedabad, Gujarat, to complete his PhD on Gandhi. Allan becomes witness to the disintegration of the Pithawala family, when Hindu mobs go on a premeditated rampage to kill Muslims in the city. Cyrus' wife, Shernaz (Sarika) escapes with their daughter Dilshad, but gets separated in the melee, from their 10-year old son, Parzan. Cyrus searches futilely for him and finally takes solace in spirituality. Shernaz testifies at the Human Rights Commission hearing, voicing the helpless of being pitted against a blood-thirsty mob even as the police plays mute spectator. She laments not knowing what happened to Parzan and the tragedy of Dilshad being forever emotionally scarred by the violence.

Who is it by?

Parzania was directed by Rahul Dholakia who went on to win the Golden Lotus National Award for Best Director in 2005 for Parzania. Dholakia has been accused of being anti-Hindu, choosing to depict only the carnage by the Hindu mobs, without depicting the violence that the Muslim mobs unleashed. Dholakia went on to face immense difficulties in having the film released in Gujarat.

Sarika, who plays Shernaz Pithawala won the Silver Lotus Best Actress award 2005.

Why should I watch it?

Parzania depicts the psyche of terror. It is based on the true story of a boy called Azhar who has been missing from his Gulbarg Society residence, after a massacre on February 28, 2002, much like what is depicted in the film. The scenes before the carnage are of an idyllic cocooned life. The scenes of the carnage and after focus on the fear, nausea and ultimately, the courage of the victims to carry on. 

An edited version of the article was published in Culturama's July 2012 Issue.

Uniquely Indian - Mumbai's Dabbawalas

Dabbawalas (dabba=container, wala=man - also called Tiffinwalas) are people who are in the business of picking up and delivering lunches to workplaces in Mumbai. Office-goers in Mumbai have long commutes and normally leave too early in the morning to carry lunch. At a mere Rs. 300 a month, a dabbawala picks up a packed lunch from the client's home every morning, and transports it to the workplace. In the afternoon, the reverse process takes place. This complex delivery mechanism employs about 5000 dabbawalas delivering 200,000 lunches every day with a coding system to minimise errors. That's approximately 40 containers per dabbawala. The error factor is 1 in 16 million transactions.

It's this high level of efficiency in a highly specialized trade that has earned dabbawalas a Six Sigma Certification from the Forbes group. The processes have also garnered interest in business schools and organizations both in India and abroad. The story goes that when Prince Charles and Richard Branson wanted to observe the process, they had to align their schedules to that of the dabbawalas. At the end of the day, the dabbawala is a triumph of the entrepreneurial spirit. Not bad for an organization where 16% of its members are totally illiterate and only 5% are educated above the SSC level.

Source for numbers data: http://mumbaidabbawala.org/

An edited version of the article was published in Culturama's July 2012 Issue.

Interpretation - Mandala

A group of monks create a sand mandala of myriad colours : A mandala is a sacred representation in geometric form, of the Universe. As per the Buddhist tradition, not only is the representation in the mandala important as a visual concept to focus one's meditation upon, but also the very act of creating the mandala, as a learning tool for monks. At the end of a ceremony, the sand mandala is usually swept away (representing impermanence) and allowed to flow in the waters of a stream.

An edited version of the article was published in Culturama's July 2012 Issue.

Games Indians Play - Mallakhamb

The gravity-defying traditional sport of Mallakhamb has seen not only a revival in recent times, but also widespread popularity. The word 'Mallakhamb' (Malla=wrestling, Khamb=pole/pillar) referred traditionally to a pillar used by Indian wrestlers to exercise stretches and twists to make their bodies lithe and their spines, supple. The name has come to signify a group of gymnastic sports, of which Pole Mallakhamb and Rope Mallakhamb are the most common.

In Pole Mallakhamb, the gymnast must balance on a standing wooden pole with a bulbous head. The gymnast performs twists and yogic asanas while balancing on the pole. Perhaps the most awe-inspiring part of this form of mallakhamb is the transitions betweens asanas and the foot-hold balance where the gymnast balances perpendicular to the pole. In the variant called Hanging Pole Mallakhamb, a shorter pole is suspended vertically from a mount, and the gymnast demonstrates his skill on this constantly moving length of wood. The key here is to maintain the center of gravity. In Rope Mallakhamb, a thick cotton rope is suspended vertically. The rope is grasped in the space between the big toe and second toe of either foot and the gymnast winds it around the body to perform some seemingly impossible balancing exercises and asanas.

The sport has its own National Championship in India and there are training centres primarily in the state of Maharashtra, where the sport originates from.

An edited version of the article was published in Culturama's July 2012 Issue.