"It's a sad day" she said, "Muslims feel sad today"..... "but what are those structures?"
It had taken my rickshaw twice as long to battle its way up O.P. Road. But it gave me time to gaze in awe, at the endless procession of miniature architectural wonders, on board a flotilla of trucks, with Muslim devotees hanging on and projecting off every angle of the vehicle, drums beating and music blaring out. The structures were quite beautiful, every one different - white as marble with elaborate domes, beautifully lit and decorated. www, takes on a new significance as I ask, 'what, what and why' What were they, what were they made of and why this procession ?
So it has a name ? The material used in packaging electrical goods ? That stiff white stuff packed around a new iron or radio....it's called "thermocol" ! The structures looked as if they were cut from marble, but in fact it was thermocol, intricately carved to create beautiful miniature mausolea - each one about 4-5 foot tall, although size varied - some a little larger !
This was the Day of Ashura, 17th December - a day of mourning for Shia Muslims, commemorating the death of the grandson of Mohammed at the Battle of Karbala in the 7th century. Replicas of his mausoleum, called taziya are carried in the Muharram processions. Every year thousands of taziyas in various shapes and sizes are created and displayed in this way.
In the chaos of O.P. Road, with its heavy traffic, wandering water buffalo, hooting cars, bicycles and traffic police, this amazing spectacle, causing so much further chaos, seemed to reveal India, with its largely Hindu population, at its best - the ability to accept anything and everything, life ambling on, around and in spite of the obstruction.
Saturday 18 December 2010
WEDDINGS
Tuesday 14 December 2010
Saturday 4 December 2010
ULTRAMARINE
"It means: 'over the water'" - I heard one guide explain, about 'ultramarine', in the Uffizi Gallery, in Florence one day. The beautiful Early Renaissance paintings, always glow with this ultramarine blue, and real gold leaf, laid on in sheets so thin, that the slightest puff of wind would blow them away. But the fabulous blue ultramarine pigment, is derived from the semi-precious stone Lapis Lazuli, which came from Afghanistan, as it still does, today.
Ground up, with mortar and pestle, to just the right point and mixed with egg yolk, it became the most prized and expensive colour of Renaissance paintings. Reserved for the robe of the Madonna and the sky of Heaven, the quantity used in the painting, was laid down in a formal contract with the patron. As you wander around the Uffizi, you can see the paintings which have been restored, they are brighter than the rest - over the centuries, the Madonna's blue robe darkened with over glazing and the smoke of a million candles and by removing the dirt, the paintings are revealed in their original form.
Stepping into the pottery workshop in Jaipur, was like walking into a Renaissance painting - the famous Jaipur Blue Pottery, is overwhelming in its radiance - surrounded by shelves and shelves of glazed blue pottery, the colour derived from cobalt oxide, gives the feeling of total immersion - there is something about that blue ! The technique came to India from Persia hundreds of years ago and developed in Jaipur with Rajputana patronage and continues to flourish.
Ground up, with mortar and pestle, to just the right point and mixed with egg yolk, it became the most prized and expensive colour of Renaissance paintings. Reserved for the robe of the Madonna and the sky of Heaven, the quantity used in the painting, was laid down in a formal contract with the patron. As you wander around the Uffizi, you can see the paintings which have been restored, they are brighter than the rest - over the centuries, the Madonna's blue robe darkened with over glazing and the smoke of a million candles and by removing the dirt, the paintings are revealed in their original form.
Stepping into the pottery workshop in Jaipur, was like walking into a Renaissance painting - the famous Jaipur Blue Pottery, is overwhelming in its radiance - surrounded by shelves and shelves of glazed blue pottery, the colour derived from cobalt oxide, gives the feeling of total immersion - there is something about that blue ! The technique came to India from Persia hundreds of years ago and developed in Jaipur with Rajputana patronage and continues to flourish.
Monday 29 November 2010
Friday 26 November 2010
Sunday 21 November 2010
PILGRIMAGE
"Jai Mataji, Jai Mataji" - his face was lined with sweat as he toiled up the steep slope towards the Temple of Savritri, his thin legs exposed, as his dhoti was looped up, a stout stick in his right hand, his loosely folded turban partly shading his face. A group of women went by, "Jai Mataji", they said as they passed. A group of old men sat in the shade of a scrub bush, the oldest wore a large white turban and incongruously, his spectacles were perched on top. He read aloud, out of a book filled with decorative writing in Sanskrit, the other men listened in rapt attention, as he accentuated a point by raising a finger in their direction. A group of children, in bright clothes, the sequins catching the light, as they darted past, shouted "Jai Mataji", with a smile. A group of older women had stopped for a rest, easing themselves down onto the rocks, "Jai Mataji", they said with quiet resolution, as a family group passed, carrying their youngest children on their shoulders. Those coming down vied for a place on the narrow path, with those going up, "Jai Mataji".
The way was rough and the slope got progressively steeper and narrower, as the well cut steps eventually gave way to roughly hewn rocks - high above was the Temple, precariously perched on an outcrop of rock overlooking the huge territory of Pushkar far below. The Temple appeared and disappeared from view, the higher one climbed up the vertical ascent.
Shoes were discarded outside, a small entrance led to the shrine, with an image of the Goddess. It was dark and her small face, with large penetrating eyes, looked out in an unblinking stare, as pilgrims prostrated themselves before her and others waited to take their place. Outside, a slight breeze cooled hot faces, as they contemplated the steep terrain below.
'Jai Mataji' - Victory to the Mother Goddess........but the journey was the thing !
The way was rough and the slope got progressively steeper and narrower, as the well cut steps eventually gave way to roughly hewn rocks - high above was the Temple, precariously perched on an outcrop of rock overlooking the huge territory of Pushkar far below. The Temple appeared and disappeared from view, the higher one climbed up the vertical ascent.
Shoes were discarded outside, a small entrance led to the shrine, with an image of the Goddess. It was dark and her small face, with large penetrating eyes, looked out in an unblinking stare, as pilgrims prostrated themselves before her and others waited to take their place. Outside, a slight breeze cooled hot faces, as they contemplated the steep terrain below.
'Jai Mataji' - Victory to the Mother Goddess........but the journey was the thing !
Saturday 20 November 2010
Sunday 14 November 2010
DETAILS
"I'll send my car for you" she said. At 7.30 p..m. on the dot, the large air conditioned, white, 4 x 4 arrived to pick me up for the gala event. These vehicles are larger, faster and higher than anything else on the road and so one is instantly transported into the world of the 'haves'.
The occasion was a house warming party to inaugurate their new home, some way out of the town. With urban growth and sprawl taking place, this smart, luxurious new housing estate, catering for the tastes of the CEOs of foreign companies and wealthy local business owners, was set some distance from the heart of the city but within a year, the rest of the town will have caught up to it. This is one of the fastest growing cities in India.
Along the way we passed the usual ambling cows, dogs running on three legs, most of them maimed or injured in some way, crowds of people living on the street, eking out a living, their lives in all their entirety spent in the same spot, surviving. They looked with curiosity at the darkened windows of our car, as we swept by.
The Estate was lit up, chairs were set out in the open area, draped in gathered fabric with elegant bows tied behind, the band was striking up, the caterers were getting ready with their stands, white gloved waiters held silver trays. White lilies, decorated every surface, making elegant displays on every table.
We swept on to the house itself - it glowed with lights, the hostess came down the wide staircase, later, dressed in a hand embroidered, red, sari. She was Financial Director of the Company, her husband its CEO - their company supplying machinery to countries world-wide. The house was built on three floors with a glass lift. Every room had been designed by an Interior Decorator with a particular theme. Paintings decorated the walls, along with memorabilia from countries around the world - elaborate masks from Venice, trophy heads from Africa..... The top floor provided an enormous den for the teenage son, just back from a trip to the U.S. and workshop at NASA. Apart from the latest in electric guitars, drums and acoustic equipment, the den was equipped with a sunken bath, filled with rose petals, a jacuzzi, huge overhead shower and flat screen tv at the side.
The bar on the same floor, was straight out of the West End of London, rows of bottles gleamed from the glass shelves and above, a skylight in the ceiling, magnified the sickle moon - a door opened onto a terrace, overlooking the countryside.
These are the new palaces of India - they have replaced those of the Moghuls, just as this is the developing Ruling Class. When asked how she had made it to the top, she said...'good luck, being in the right place at the right time and maintaining the good fortune with hard work'
The occasion was a house warming party to inaugurate their new home, some way out of the town. With urban growth and sprawl taking place, this smart, luxurious new housing estate, catering for the tastes of the CEOs of foreign companies and wealthy local business owners, was set some distance from the heart of the city but within a year, the rest of the town will have caught up to it. This is one of the fastest growing cities in India.
Along the way we passed the usual ambling cows, dogs running on three legs, most of them maimed or injured in some way, crowds of people living on the street, eking out a living, their lives in all their entirety spent in the same spot, surviving. They looked with curiosity at the darkened windows of our car, as we swept by.
The Estate was lit up, chairs were set out in the open area, draped in gathered fabric with elegant bows tied behind, the band was striking up, the caterers were getting ready with their stands, white gloved waiters held silver trays. White lilies, decorated every surface, making elegant displays on every table.
We swept on to the house itself - it glowed with lights, the hostess came down the wide staircase, later, dressed in a hand embroidered, red, sari. She was Financial Director of the Company, her husband its CEO - their company supplying machinery to countries world-wide. The house was built on three floors with a glass lift. Every room had been designed by an Interior Decorator with a particular theme. Paintings decorated the walls, along with memorabilia from countries around the world - elaborate masks from Venice, trophy heads from Africa..... The top floor provided an enormous den for the teenage son, just back from a trip to the U.S. and workshop at NASA. Apart from the latest in electric guitars, drums and acoustic equipment, the den was equipped with a sunken bath, filled with rose petals, a jacuzzi, huge overhead shower and flat screen tv at the side.
The bar on the same floor, was straight out of the West End of London, rows of bottles gleamed from the glass shelves and above, a skylight in the ceiling, magnified the sickle moon - a door opened onto a terrace, overlooking the countryside.
These are the new palaces of India - they have replaced those of the Moghuls, just as this is the developing Ruling Class. When asked how she had made it to the top, she said...'good luck, being in the right place at the right time and maintaining the good fortune with hard work'
Friday 5 November 2010
ARABIAN NIGHTS
Cascades of coloured stars lit the night sky in a constant display. It is Diwali, a five day festival marking the start of the Hindu New Year, according to the Lunar Calendar. The rockets having streaked upwards, would pause momentarily, before the bang and mushroom shaped cloud of twinkling multi-coloured lights would illuminate the sky. Some rockets zigzagged even higher than others, bursting into a canopy of lights. There seemed a never ending supply and by morning, there were still muffled bangs. The street littered with spent cartridges, the only evidence left behind. Diwali, literally means 'row of lights' and celebrates the triumph of light over darkness, good over evil.
Lakshmi, Goddess of Wealth, is the main focus of these celebrations and this is when Indians buy gold, so Jewelry Shops remain open. CH, World of Jewels, is lit from top to bottom - it has the appearance of a kind of cathedral - three stories with doormen dressed in turbans. Gold dealing is on the ground floor and this is the main area of interest amongst the customers and where most of the business gets done.
The other floors have collections of traditional jewelry, much of it coming from Rajasthan, like Thewa Jewelry, 23ct gold is fused onto coloured glass, the shapes are always geometric and blue, red and green glass is used to suggest sapphires, rubies and emeralds. Peacocks are a favourite motif !
Lakshmi, Goddess of Wealth, is the main focus of these celebrations and this is when Indians buy gold, so Jewelry Shops remain open. CH, World of Jewels, is lit from top to bottom - it has the appearance of a kind of cathedral - three stories with doormen dressed in turbans. Gold dealing is on the ground floor and this is the main area of interest amongst the customers and where most of the business gets done.
The other floors have collections of traditional jewelry, much of it coming from Rajasthan, like Thewa Jewelry, 23ct gold is fused onto coloured glass, the shapes are always geometric and blue, red and green glass is used to suggest sapphires, rubies and emeralds. Peacocks are a favourite motif !
Saturday 30 October 2010
TAJ MAHAL
"I have to park the car here, some kilometers away because of the threat of pollution - you'll have to take an auto rickshaw to the site" said Satish Kumar, our driver. We had left Delhi early that morning and the drive to Agra had taken four and a half hours with a couple of stops on the way involving breakfast and snake charmers.
The rickshaw ride took us to the ticket office. The 750 rupee entrance ticket for the Taj for foreigners, provided a small bottle of water and socks to put over your shoes. The security was tight, we were carefully checked and then joined the huge crowd heading towards the entrance to the Taj precinct. The heat was intense.
It's interesting confronting something which you have seen a million times in photographs, on tea towels, or advertising something banal. You glance momentarily, bored with the image and look away. Now, here was the original..... It has a presence, an unmistakable personality, like the smile of Mona Lisa, you are not quite sure of her. She is weightless, ethereal, not quite of this world. Complete in herself, down to every detail, perfect, ageless, nothing can be added or taken away, harmonious - like a painting of the Madonna and Child by Raphael, there is serenity and timelessness, changeable in different light and yet unchanging.
The rickshaw ride took us to the ticket office. The 750 rupee entrance ticket for the Taj for foreigners, provided a small bottle of water and socks to put over your shoes. The security was tight, we were carefully checked and then joined the huge crowd heading towards the entrance to the Taj precinct. The heat was intense.
It's interesting confronting something which you have seen a million times in photographs, on tea towels, or advertising something banal. You glance momentarily, bored with the image and look away. Now, here was the original..... It has a presence, an unmistakable personality, like the smile of Mona Lisa, you are not quite sure of her. She is weightless, ethereal, not quite of this world. Complete in herself, down to every detail, perfect, ageless, nothing can be added or taken away, harmonious - like a painting of the Madonna and Child by Raphael, there is serenity and timelessness, changeable in different light and yet unchanging.
Friday 15 October 2010
THE AUTO-RICKSHAW
"She said good morning ! Can you imagine? She greeted an auto-rickshaw", laughed the driver, as he drew level, in the morning traffic, with another driver. They both guffawed with laughter in a good natured way, looking in my direction. I reflected on how 'Buon Giorno' was such a part of the morning ritual in Italy, as one walked along Via Faentina in the morning. It would be unheard of not to greet Alberto, next door, Giovanni, the postman, Liugi, who ran the Bar, Stephano who owned the computer shop, etc.
The morning rickshaw ride along Old Padra Road, known locally as 'O.P. Road', is one of those little morning pleasures, as one can observe, in the relative safety of the rickshaw, life on the street waking up and preparing for a new day. It's an opportunity to reflect on things. Everywhere new buildings are being constructed in various stages of completion. Other buildings, older by a few years, are already showing signs of wear and tear, because of the harshness of the climate. Paintwork turns from white to black, dust coats windows, glass panes break. Things are left to rot and decay - how unkempt it looks - as if nobody cares any more. Piles of litter vie for a place on the street, alongside the man putting out his fruit barrow, for the morning's business. Everything is in a constant state of flux - of rebirth and decay. Nothing is preserved. After the initial energy of creation, it is left to mature and rot - they live in the present. Nothing is fixed. This flexibility of the Eastern mind is difficult to understand - so different to the Western love of order, planning, care and preservation. Does our love of the physical world, prevent us from seeing beyond it ? And yet I think not....the quality of a moment is defined by love and surely care is an aspect of that ?...."Hey this is where I want to get off .... Ha...yes...stop - here's your 25 rupees"
The morning rickshaw ride along Old Padra Road, known locally as 'O.P. Road', is one of those little morning pleasures, as one can observe, in the relative safety of the rickshaw, life on the street waking up and preparing for a new day. It's an opportunity to reflect on things. Everywhere new buildings are being constructed in various stages of completion. Other buildings, older by a few years, are already showing signs of wear and tear, because of the harshness of the climate. Paintwork turns from white to black, dust coats windows, glass panes break. Things are left to rot and decay - how unkempt it looks - as if nobody cares any more. Piles of litter vie for a place on the street, alongside the man putting out his fruit barrow, for the morning's business. Everything is in a constant state of flux - of rebirth and decay. Nothing is preserved. After the initial energy of creation, it is left to mature and rot - they live in the present. Nothing is fixed. This flexibility of the Eastern mind is difficult to understand - so different to the Western love of order, planning, care and preservation. Does our love of the physical world, prevent us from seeing beyond it ? And yet I think not....the quality of a moment is defined by love and surely care is an aspect of that ?...."Hey this is where I want to get off .... Ha...yes...stop - here's your 25 rupees"
Thursday 14 October 2010
ROOM WITH A VIEW
The wrought iron Indian balustrade, created curved geometric arabesques in black, separating the interior space of the room from the scene outside, two floors up. It looked out onto a "jungle" of greenery which stretched towards a distant building. A tall palm tree had struggled above everything else for supremacy and next to it a teak tree with sturdy branches. "Whoooop, whoop", suddenly the branches were weighed down by a tribe of monkeys. You couldn't see them, but the heavily waving branches gave them away, as they played in the early morning freshness. Later they could be seen on the top of a nearby building, lying stretched out lazily on a narrow ledge, turning first one flank to the early sunshine and then the other. Another lay on its stomach, spreadeagled on the edge, while its tail was turned inelegantly upwards, so that its mate could inspect the underside and carry out morning ablutions. Small monkeys raced around doing gymnastics while their parents yawned.
Tuesday 12 October 2010
GARBAR DANCING IN GUJARAT
The sight of 20 000 people dancing in rhythm, barefoot, on the dusty ground, dresses and curtas sparkling with mirrors and sequins, is awe-inspiring. The season of the 9 nights of dancing is religious in origin but the crowd looked like a huge disco party having a good time. Men wore a variety of costumes in bright colours, some with turbans and the girls were dressed in garba skirts, blouses and dupattas. In all the crowd, not one outfit was the same. Helen had come over specially from Germany for the season - "I get home at 1 a.m." she said "and even with my long skirt, I am covered in dust - it takes me 45 minutes to remove all the jewelry and wash off the dust" So what is the attraction ? "It's fun" she said !
The event takes place in every corner of the town - each with its own particular style. In Alkapuri, the arena is small and grassed and the whole family is involved, from little children to grandmothers. The dance starts sedately, but after half an hour, the pace quickens and the dance becames more complicated - women, normally housebound, shine with perspiration, as they gyrate in time to the music. Little children sparkling in their special dresses run in and out of the crowd, trying out the steps, as they go. Some women bravely carry heavy household shrines on their heads, hoping for extra blessings from the Goddess Durga, around whom the dance is performed.
The conversation at the International Women's Club lunch, was all about who had been brave enough to dress up and participate and who had got into the newspaper !
The event takes place in every corner of the town - each with its own particular style. In Alkapuri, the arena is small and grassed and the whole family is involved, from little children to grandmothers. The dance starts sedately, but after half an hour, the pace quickens and the dance becames more complicated - women, normally housebound, shine with perspiration, as they gyrate in time to the music. Little children sparkling in their special dresses run in and out of the crowd, trying out the steps, as they go. Some women bravely carry heavy household shrines on their heads, hoping for extra blessings from the Goddess Durga, around whom the dance is performed.
Saturday 25 September 2010
2 BHK ?
As we flew along on Rajesh's motorbike, I reminded him that I wanted 2 BHK. "That will be difficult because everything is 3 BHK "! He admonished. "And I would like something semi-furnished", I added - thinking that if the kitchen had a fridge, stove and water purifier, and the bedroom had bed bases, I could buy the sofa and chairs and put in some finishing touches - something to my taste. Finally we pulled up outside a huge block of flats. "This is just what you are looking for - semi furnished in a good area" Up we went to the second floor - a mild apprehension set in...and then he flung open the door triumphantly.... Each room was completely empty.........! "But you said it was partly furnished"....... "Yes" he said...... "it has ceiling fans in every room" !!!
On to the next flat. A towering block with at least a hundred flats. The sheer bulk of it against the darkening sky was off-putting - it looked like Al Katraz. We were joined by a second agent - his jet black hair had been slicked back on either side and he wore very dark sunglasses, even though the stars were out and the moon was appearing. Up to the second floor..."they'll be gone by the 1st October" he said. We all took our shoes off before entering - all was chaos as the large family were in the throes of packing up.....from the balcony, you could see the slum dwellers on the other side of the road, beginning to light fires - they sleep under plastic or rude shelters, close to the ground. By now I had a team of 3 agents - they stared at me quizzically...."no I don't think this one" I said....
"Well" they said, undeterred by my lack of enthusiasm..."we have just the thing for you - it's fully furnished and in Akota - a very good area"
Perched on the back of Rajesh's motorbike, I felt the warm night air brushing past - we passed the 'Cow Circle', and the Havali house temple - then we turned left - a road I didn't know. Flats everywhere, we pulled up outside a brand new block, freshly painted white. Now this looked promising.... a young man came out to greet us. He turned to me and asked "Are you vegetarian"? My heart sank......surely I wasn't expected to sit down to dinner with the family? After all I was only looking for a 2 BHK and I had planned on going to the local Pizza place to reward myself, when this ordeal was over....I decided to look noncommittal. He shrugged and led us up to the second floor - and unlocked the door - the interior was painted pink, it was empty but there were built-in cupboards and two Art Deco bed bases in the bedrooms.....when and how were they going to serve the meal? I wondered. Then the owner walked in - a severe looking man dressed entirely in white. He introduced himself and then told the agents in Hindi, that whoever rented the flat was not to consume any alcohol or cook or consume non-vegetarian food in the flat.... EVER !! I could feel myself shrinking under his imperious gaze and wondered it he could sense my penchant for boiled eggs ?
I was relieved when Rajesh dropped me outside Pizza Inn - I had clearly asked for the unattainable ..2 BHK, semi-furnished for non-vegetarians, doesn't exist" "I'll show you some more tomorrow" said Rajesh.....I forced a polite smile....hmmmm perhaps.
On to the next flat. A towering block with at least a hundred flats. The sheer bulk of it against the darkening sky was off-putting - it looked like Al Katraz. We were joined by a second agent - his jet black hair had been slicked back on either side and he wore very dark sunglasses, even though the stars were out and the moon was appearing. Up to the second floor..."they'll be gone by the 1st October" he said. We all took our shoes off before entering - all was chaos as the large family were in the throes of packing up.....from the balcony, you could see the slum dwellers on the other side of the road, beginning to light fires - they sleep under plastic or rude shelters, close to the ground. By now I had a team of 3 agents - they stared at me quizzically...."no I don't think this one" I said....
"Well" they said, undeterred by my lack of enthusiasm..."we have just the thing for you - it's fully furnished and in Akota - a very good area"
Perched on the back of Rajesh's motorbike, I felt the warm night air brushing past - we passed the 'Cow Circle', and the Havali house temple - then we turned left - a road I didn't know. Flats everywhere, we pulled up outside a brand new block, freshly painted white. Now this looked promising.... a young man came out to greet us. He turned to me and asked "Are you vegetarian"? My heart sank......surely I wasn't expected to sit down to dinner with the family? After all I was only looking for a 2 BHK and I had planned on going to the local Pizza place to reward myself, when this ordeal was over....I decided to look noncommittal. He shrugged and led us up to the second floor - and unlocked the door - the interior was painted pink, it was empty but there were built-in cupboards and two Art Deco bed bases in the bedrooms.....when and how were they going to serve the meal? I wondered. Then the owner walked in - a severe looking man dressed entirely in white. He introduced himself and then told the agents in Hindi, that whoever rented the flat was not to consume any alcohol or cook or consume non-vegetarian food in the flat.... EVER !! I could feel myself shrinking under his imperious gaze and wondered it he could sense my penchant for boiled eggs ?
I was relieved when Rajesh dropped me outside Pizza Inn - I had clearly asked for the unattainable ..2 BHK, semi-furnished for non-vegetarians, doesn't exist" "I'll show you some more tomorrow" said Rajesh.....I forced a polite smile....hmmmm perhaps.
Wednesday 22 September 2010
9 P.M.
The noise was ear splitting - in the darkness the truck slowly progressed down Jetalpur Road with its loudspeakers blasting out disco music. The huge statue of Ganesha sat enthroned in the back of the truck, lit up with brilliant spotlights which also illuminated the road behind, where hundreds of revelers were dancing and gyrating to the music. Every now and then the truck would stop to allow more revelers to join the crowd from the side lines. They were heading to the river, where the statue of Ganesha would be immersed in water and left to dissolve, bringing this festival to an end....but, this being India, it is just a preparation for another... Ganesha statues from every street and neighbourhood in Vadodara have been progressing, in decorated trucks, down roads all afternoon, bringing traffic to a halt, as well wishers, who have tended him with prayers over the last 10 days, accompany him to his immersion.
The Monsoon is over now and we won't see rain again for another year. And in this strange sequence of seasons, the coolness brought by the rain, has been followed by hot humid weather which will be followed by the cooler 'winter' months....in a rhythm of hot, cooler, hot, cooler.....it doesn't follow the logical patterns of seasons as we know them in the West, with the gradual change of summer into autumn and winter, blending into spring...The hot nights are accompanied by the sound of crickets and the odd explosion of fireworks....
The Monsoon is over now and we won't see rain again for another year. And in this strange sequence of seasons, the coolness brought by the rain, has been followed by hot humid weather which will be followed by the cooler 'winter' months....in a rhythm of hot, cooler, hot, cooler.....it doesn't follow the logical patterns of seasons as we know them in the West, with the gradual change of summer into autumn and winter, blending into spring...The hot nights are accompanied by the sound of crickets and the odd explosion of fireworks....
Tuesday 14 September 2010
BREAKFAST CUISINE
That essentially English idea of a 'boiled egg' for breakfast, is a very foreign concept in India - where it is more usual to have a cup of chai and perhaps a bowl of poha (spicy flat rice) or upma, a spicy porridge or dosa, a Southern Indian dish, which looks rather like a Christmas Cracker, only much much bigger and is filled with potato in the middle, served with a number of hot spicy sauces. Consequently, egg cups are impossible to find in any Indian shop....so, in desperation I checked my kitchen shelves for an alternative and I found that the top of the Eno's Fruit Salts bottle, was just about the right size to hold the egg, though the height was definitely not right - so high up off the saucer, the egg was separated from both it's cut-off 'lid' and the little pile of salt and pepper below - the disproportionate scale, is not pleasing to the eye nor is it practical ! So I went in search of some more appropriate alternative in the shops of Vadodara. On a glass shelf in Landmark, the bookshop, I saw one very small mug, with a smiley face on it and an even smaller cup-like object, which consisted of a truncated body and two legs and said 'good pals' - so with a surge of hope, I bought them.
With great anticipation, I unwrapped my parcel when I got home, to see how well an egg would fit into my two new 'would-be' Indian egg cups - but...alas... they are oval and to my profound disappointment, I found that no amount of turning, will make a round object fit into an oval void ! So it's back to the Eno's bottle !
With great anticipation, I unwrapped my parcel when I got home, to see how well an egg would fit into my two new 'would-be' Indian egg cups - but...alas... they are oval and to my profound disappointment, I found that no amount of turning, will make a round object fit into an oval void ! So it's back to the Eno's bottle !
Saturday 11 September 2010
GANESHA CHATURTHI - 11TH SEPTEMBER
The road was unspeakable, washed away by the Monsoon rains, huge craters made the going rough - the distance wasn't that far, but it took at least 45 minutes to get to the factory, called Danke, which made transformers, used locally in India and also for export. Today was the start of the Ganesha Festival and the statue of Ganesha had been prepared and placed in the factory temple. It was a special day because the spirit of the god would be invoked and would be invited to enter the statue.
The owner of the factory came out to greet us when we arrived and soon his son and daughter-in-law were ensconced on cushions in front of the idol and the puja ceremony began, with all the workers standing in a semi-circle, having first removed their shoes, ready to watch and offer their prayers too. Ganesha is one of the most popular gods in India and cuts across caste and sect, for he is the remover of obstacles and is invoked also for the start of new projects.
The owner of the factory came out to greet us when we arrived and soon his son and daughter-in-law were ensconced on cushions in front of the idol and the puja ceremony began, with all the workers standing in a semi-circle, having first removed their shoes, ready to watch and offer their prayers too. Ganesha is one of the most popular gods in India and cuts across caste and sect, for he is the remover of obstacles and is invoked also for the start of new projects.
This was the first day of the ceremony which will culminate in ten days time, when Ganesha will be taken to the river and immersed in water and left to dissolve. Nandini and her husband, as the chief protagonists in the ceremony, being the son and daughter-in-law of the factory owner, were instructed by the priest in the intensely detailed ritual. The little representations of the god were bathed in five things - curd, water, milk, honey and ghee. Each represented a blessing - longevity, purity, nourishment, happiness and prosperity. Colours too played their part - the rich vibrant orange marigold flower was added to the offering and rice and various spices. Fruit and sweetmeats were placed within reach of the god. The priest intoned the prayers in a mix of Sanskrit and Hindi. The ceremony lasted about 40 minutes and culminated in the hanging of a garland of bright marigolds round the shoulders of the statue. Sweets were handed out to the crowd, everyone smiled and clapped and one could feel the mounting anticipation for the finale of the festival in ten days time, when there will be a good deal of merriment, dancing and music.
Sunday 5 September 2010
THANGKA
What a jewel this was after the rough road and dilapidation of the surroundings - it looked like a little piece of Japan, which had come to land accidentally in Northern India.
The Norbilingka Institute was designed by a Japanese architect and consisted of a collection of buildings, with the Buddhist Temple set at the highest point - the head of a plan based on the body of a many armed Buddhist God. The Tibetan guide led me up a pathway over a little bridge with ponds, full of fish, on either side - an air of serenity prevailed...the Institute had been established to preserve Tibetan culture.
Climbing some stone stairs, we entered the first workroom where the famous Thangka paintings were being produced. 'The artists come from Tibet - they have escaped over the mountains and we give them 3 years of expert tuition in the art of Thangka painting: tson-tang and go-tang, applique work on fabric, depicting the life of Buddha,' he explained.
The artists sat on cushions, with a low table in front of them - all were bent upon their work and barely looked up. The designs are drawn first and then transferred to the canvas, which is prepared, much as a panel was prepared, during the Renaissance. The designs are then painted onto the surface.
The applique work, in a different workroom, was carried out with painstakingly tiny stitches - even individual jewels for a throne, had been cut from fabric and intricately stitched, to create a shimmering effect.
Downstairs the sculptors were creating designs out of wood or beating copper sheets into huge representations of Buddha.
THIS SEAT IS BOOKED
There was a general air of preparation in the Temple Complex on Friday, HH the Dalai Lama was scheduled to stage a 2-day teaching session and people had come from far and wide to claim a bit of space in preparation for the next day - a patchwork quilt of mats !
Tuesday 31 August 2010
LUNG TA
Chai, Reiko's pale cream mongrel, ran ahead, only too glad to be off leash, she dashed up the mountain slope, looking behind every now and then. We had walked up to Daremkot, high above Mcleodganj, with densely forested valleys and slopes - the highest peaks above us appeared and disappeared in the cloud and fog.
Everything felt cool and damp in the forest. Ferns and moss covered banks and tiny pale violets grew wild wherever you looked. Following the contour path, going higher and higher, an old shepherd, with his loosely tied top-heavy white turban, sat quietly contemplating the view. Tibetan monks had built simple stone huts, hidden among the trees - they would withdraw to these huts at times for deepest contemplative prayer. All was silent - the prayer flags, came as a visual surprise in this silent place - tied between the trees, so many of them - red, white, blue, green and yellow, each with a mantra, some with the 'Lung Ta' , the wind horse, which would carry the prayers and distribute their benediction. I thought of Gothic Cathedrals, Renaissance Churches, Hindu Temples and Islamic Mosques - the prayer flags, created their own architecture.....
Everything felt cool and damp in the forest. Ferns and moss covered banks and tiny pale violets grew wild wherever you looked. Following the contour path, going higher and higher, an old shepherd, with his loosely tied top-heavy white turban, sat quietly contemplating the view. Tibetan monks had built simple stone huts, hidden among the trees - they would withdraw to these huts at times for deepest contemplative prayer. All was silent - the prayer flags, came as a visual surprise in this silent place - tied between the trees, so many of them - red, white, blue, green and yellow, each with a mantra, some with the 'Lung Ta' , the wind horse, which would carry the prayers and distribute their benediction. I thought of Gothic Cathedrals, Renaissance Churches, Hindu Temples and Islamic Mosques - the prayer flags, created their own architecture.....
MCLEODGANJ
It's high up and Moon Peak in the Northern Himalayas, is visible sometimes, when the clouds permit.
This Hill Station is small, but each of its three main streets is crammed with traders, Indian and Tibetan. Tall Tibetan monks in red robes, sandals and yellow canvas shoulder bags, reminded me of Ancient Greek Philosophers. They would either walk down to their monastery, below the town, or up to the market. Groups of young people, many with backpacks, from a variety of countries, would shop for handicrafts, or drink coffee at sidewalk stalls and in amongst this crowd, 4-wheel drive vehicles would jostle for space, on the narrow roads passing through the town.
Perched high up above the valley, Mcleodganj is usually swathed in cloud, which lifts and drops, constantly, changing everything - fir lined contours, become misty and half-seen, like an oriental painting, or else clearly etched for some moments. Multi view points emerge in the cloud filled depths or up to the misty peaks - a dematerialised world.
Many Tibetan refugees have come over the mountains - grueling journeys, evading Chinese capture and arrive frost-bitten in Katmandu in the Southern Himalayas - when strong enough, they make their way to Mcleodganj, to be near 'His Holiness, the Dalai Lama' - a firm sense of place in the flux of constantly changing perspectives.
TRAIN TRAVEL AND THE MONSOON !
'Coming down', wasn't nearly as fun as 'going up'. Partly due to the driving - the car horn was not working and the driver seemed bent on impressing me with his handling of downhill racing - we were clocking up 80 mph on hairpin bends, above dizzyingly high ravines and he was overtaking goods trucks and buses on blind curves, as we flew down the mountain passes from Mcleodganj, retreat of the Dalai Lama, in the Northern Himalayas....the journey was further complicated by livestock - cows drifted onto the road, then we passed a pack of mules and later dozens of donkeys. Mudslides blocked the path in places - we had to wait as mechanical equipment was used to remove boulders - but at least it slowed up my 'formula one driver' and gave me a couple of minutes to breathe normally and unclench my teeth.
But there at last, was Pathankot and more than that, there was the train station and at 4.45 p.m. I would be on the Muri Express traveling 2AC, to Delhi where I would arrive at 4.30 the next morning - I would be met by a driver who would take me to the airport to catch my plane to Vadodara. We drove up to the entrance with a flourish and spray of gravel, right next to a statue of a grey elephant wearing a small blue cap! I had made it....despite the shocking 3 hour journey in the car. As if summoned, a man came running up to us and tapped on the window.....'it's been cancelled'.... 'what?' ....I looked at him in disbelief ! 'It's been cancelled - your train - go.... cancel your ticket - it's because of the rain last night...there's been flooding' I couldn't take it in....what was I going to do ? 'You can get a train from Amritsar - that's 3 hours away from here by car, or go back to Dharamsala, where you've just come from...also 3 hours and take the luxury bus to Delhi, or take the local bus from here - it's not air conditioned, the seats are'nt padded - it's for local people and will take 12 hours and I can't guarantee safe arrival !'
The horror of these choices presented themselves....each was too awful to contemplate...what was I to do? 'Go and cancel your ticket' the man said. I stepped out the car slowly...like someone going to the guillotine ...now to begin the process of asking how I was to cancel my ticket. Waiting disconsolately at the counter, I was unexpectedly joined by another traveller from Dharamsala, a Frenchman - he and his companion had been to listen to the Dalai Lama teaching and were heading back to Delhi....on the cancelled Muri Express, and on to Paris a couple of days later.
We were passed from one official to the next....everyone shaking their heads. In desperation, I phoned the agent in Delhi...'can you think of any other alternative?' After some even worse solutions, were presented, one of them being to ask my driver to do the 12 hour trip to Delhi - without a horn, driving like a madman, or worse, I could imagine him going to sleep at the wheel, I rejected that idea with contempt. Then she said... ' you could go to Chakki Bank, 4 kms away and take the Jammu Radjhani Express to Delhi - it leaves at 22.00 tonight ?' Bravo! - yes, that was definitely the best idea - waiting 5 hours in a train station at night, was definitely the best option. She offered to fix tickets for the two French Budhists as well, all on trust, as we would have to pay for them when we reached Delhi ! We crammed into a minute taxi with all our luggage balanced on the roof and roared off to find Chakki Bank. It proved to be not much more than 2 platforms in the middle of nowhere.
The Jammu Radjhani Express, did arrive - it was only half-an-hour late....and in the 5 hours wait on a bench on Platform 1, I learned a lot about Buddhism from my companions and watched a near nude Indian Fakir, doing some mighty strange things....! .... We did arrive in Delhi, at 6 o'clock the next morning and I even made it onto the plane !
But there at last, was Pathankot and more than that, there was the train station and at 4.45 p.m. I would be on the Muri Express traveling 2AC, to Delhi where I would arrive at 4.30 the next morning - I would be met by a driver who would take me to the airport to catch my plane to Vadodara. We drove up to the entrance with a flourish and spray of gravel, right next to a statue of a grey elephant wearing a small blue cap! I had made it....despite the shocking 3 hour journey in the car. As if summoned, a man came running up to us and tapped on the window.....'it's been cancelled'.... 'what?' ....I looked at him in disbelief ! 'It's been cancelled - your train - go.... cancel your ticket - it's because of the rain last night...there's been flooding' I couldn't take it in....what was I going to do ? 'You can get a train from Amritsar - that's 3 hours away from here by car, or go back to Dharamsala, where you've just come from...also 3 hours and take the luxury bus to Delhi, or take the local bus from here - it's not air conditioned, the seats are'nt padded - it's for local people and will take 12 hours and I can't guarantee safe arrival !'
The horror of these choices presented themselves....each was too awful to contemplate...what was I to do? 'Go and cancel your ticket' the man said. I stepped out the car slowly...like someone going to the guillotine ...now to begin the process of asking how I was to cancel my ticket. Waiting disconsolately at the counter, I was unexpectedly joined by another traveller from Dharamsala, a Frenchman - he and his companion had been to listen to the Dalai Lama teaching and were heading back to Delhi....on the cancelled Muri Express, and on to Paris a couple of days later.
We were passed from one official to the next....everyone shaking their heads. In desperation, I phoned the agent in Delhi...'can you think of any other alternative?' After some even worse solutions, were presented, one of them being to ask my driver to do the 12 hour trip to Delhi - without a horn, driving like a madman, or worse, I could imagine him going to sleep at the wheel, I rejected that idea with contempt. Then she said... ' you could go to Chakki Bank, 4 kms away and take the Jammu Radjhani Express to Delhi - it leaves at 22.00 tonight ?' Bravo! - yes, that was definitely the best idea - waiting 5 hours in a train station at night, was definitely the best option. She offered to fix tickets for the two French Budhists as well, all on trust, as we would have to pay for them when we reached Delhi ! We crammed into a minute taxi with all our luggage balanced on the roof and roared off to find Chakki Bank. It proved to be not much more than 2 platforms in the middle of nowhere.
The Jammu Radjhani Express, did arrive - it was only half-an-hour late....and in the 5 hours wait on a bench on Platform 1, I learned a lot about Buddhism from my companions and watched a near nude Indian Fakir, doing some mighty strange things....! .... We did arrive in Delhi, at 6 o'clock the next morning and I even made it onto the plane !
Saturday 14 August 2010
SHRI MAHALAKSHMI
Tinned Tuna, Smoked Oysters, Extra Virgin Olive Oil, Green Olives, Black Olives, Milk Powder, Artichokes, Pasta from Italy, Marmalade, Peanut Butter, L'oreal shampoo, Conditioner, Toilet Paper - these were only some of the special treats available in Ismail's small, cramped, shop on R.C. Dutt Road, a mecca for all foreigners living in Vadodara. But the most prized item, in my view, was on the top shelf, near the checkout counter.......a small dark jar of .....MARMITE ! Now that was the real treasure of this shop. This little item, will cost you five times what you would pay for it in the West, but what it represents, is beyond the price of rubies. Unscrewing the cap, instantly one is transported to one's childhood, timelessness, memories of home, security and all that is known and understood, of giving and receiving.....now here was the ultimate 'comfort food' ! 'Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, Marmite you're brown....And I love you'! x
15TH AUGUST
Assumption of the Virgin Day, in Catholic Italy - always a day when everything was closed - a truly National Holiday, but also a time of street parties, especially in Tuscany, where, in Panzano they filled the main street with long tables and chairs and everyone came to dinner ! Much of the food was provided by the famous Butcher of Panzano - beloved and well-known throughout Italy. His, is the only Butchery I've ever encountered, where cuts of meat were celebrated with chamber music and where the owner was often to be seen giving a TV interview on the pavement outside.
Here in India, it is Independence Day - a celebration of India's freedom from Colonial Rule, which ended in 1947 - also a National Holiday, but the shops will be open. The flag will be raised - the very pretty tricolour of saffron, white and green, made of homespun cloth, with a central spinning wheel of 24 spokes, representing, not only the hours of the day, but also the movement of time. The unchanging central hub of the wheel, represents eternity and truth (exactly the same symbolism as a Rose Window in a Gothic Cathedral).
Here in India, it is Independence Day - a celebration of India's freedom from Colonial Rule, which ended in 1947 - also a National Holiday, but the shops will be open. The flag will be raised - the very pretty tricolour of saffron, white and green, made of homespun cloth, with a central spinning wheel of 24 spokes, representing, not only the hours of the day, but also the movement of time. The unchanging central hub of the wheel, represents eternity and truth (exactly the same symbolism as a Rose Window in a Gothic Cathedral).
Friday 13 August 2010
Wednesday 11 August 2010
SIRENS
The different bird calls are part of the daily sound scape of India - they are loud and unequivocal - I have also heard monkeys and occasionally the raucous call of a peacock; mingled with these sounds are the cries of the hawkers, who bring their produce round on carts. During the wedding season, you hear fireworks and drums and loud music, as a procession passes. The one sound that you don't hear is a police car siren or ambulance. In London, the sound of screaming sirens is part of daily life and in Italy it was the roar of motorinos tearing down the road at full throttle and the sound of a police car or ambulance shrieking off to some emergency. An ambulance just didn't exist here in Vadodara until about three year's ago and even now, it's rare to actually see one...if you are unlucky enough to need one, you're more likely to hope someone comes to your aid and pays a rickshaw to take you to the nearest hospital - so the sound of sirens is missing here....!
SEASON OF MISTS AND MELLOW FRUITFULNESS
Keats' 'Ode to Autumn' ran through my mind as I was jolting along in the rickshaw...could this be called Autumn ? I suppose it's Autumn, now that the Monsoon rains are over - the sun is shining, the sky is blue and the cows are all in town with their new born calves - they lie in family groups in the road, some suckling their young. The dreamy expression in their eyes, made me think of Keats and his 'Ode'...these cows seemed to be relishing the sunshine, soaking it up...and yet this season is so different to that of Europe, because we haven't experienced any cold, the nights are hot and clammy and the days as hot as any. But everyone is soporific - unoccupied rickshaw drivers sleep in the back of their vehicles with their bare feet projecting out the side - I watched as a cow stretched out its tongue to lick bare toes, thinking they were edible ! The roadside fruit vendor had laid out a sack on the tarmac and was stretched out fast asleep - I looked at my watch, 2 p.m. ! The rains are over and the sun is out again...everyone is lost in this pleasure...was I the only one who thought the sun was too hot and who wished the rain would come back?
Wednesday 4 August 2010
RANGOLI ON A RAINY DAY
Sandeep looked about 12 years old, but he was in fact, half-way through his MA in the Faculty of Fine Arts at the University. He's a quiet person, with a talent for Rangoli - a Hindi word meaning, 'Row of colours'. It's a religious floor art, using fine coloured sand and symbolises the transience of life - it can't be preserved; once created, it's enjoyed and then destroyed. The hand of the artist never touches the ground, so there is no interruption in the flow of creative energy, which passes directly to the design. Apart from chalking out a central circle, no other aids are involved and the design evolves freehand. Traditionally, Rangoli designs are created in front of doorways in buildings and temples, an auspicious sign of welcome ! Sandeep created this design in half-an-hour:
TUESDAY
It was Tuesday and the International Women's Group of Baroda were meeting for their 'Ladies Lunch' at the best restaurant in town, 'Mainland China'. Fifty percent of the women, are of Indian origin, but have lived elsewhere in the world and the other half are living in India, but have their origins elsewhere. Their husbands work for multi-national companies and are on contract in India for one to three years.
Since most of them have been away for the summer, this was an occasion for seeing everyone again, after a break of a couple of months. As each lady arrived, there were shrieks of pleasure from those already at the long table and comments about what each was wearing - all seemed to be dressed in the latest fashions from outside of India, bearing news of far away places such as Mexico, Canada, the U.S. and Europe....!
In between the courses of delicious Chinese food, the conversation drifted to a book many had read: "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert, who traveled to three different countries, Italy, India and Indonesia, in search of the three things in the title of her book....
'Did she go to Indonesia for the food?' asked one...
'No - she would have gone to Italy for that' said another lady..
'No, no she would have gone to Italy for love' remarked another...'think of all those divine Italian men'....
'No'.... said an Indian lady.... 'she came to India for love...she learned to love herself'....
'OK... so where did she learn to pray?' asked another....a thoughtful silence prevailed, as we tucked into our Chop Suey...
'She must have gone to Indonesia, to learn how to pray' ...
Ahem, ladies, have any of you really read the book ? The only thing you've got right so far, is Italy for the food ! ................. She learned to pray in India and found love in Bali !!!
Since most of them have been away for the summer, this was an occasion for seeing everyone again, after a break of a couple of months. As each lady arrived, there were shrieks of pleasure from those already at the long table and comments about what each was wearing - all seemed to be dressed in the latest fashions from outside of India, bearing news of far away places such as Mexico, Canada, the U.S. and Europe....!
In between the courses of delicious Chinese food, the conversation drifted to a book many had read: "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert, who traveled to three different countries, Italy, India and Indonesia, in search of the three things in the title of her book....
'Did she go to Indonesia for the food?' asked one...
'No - she would have gone to Italy for that' said another lady..
'No, no she would have gone to Italy for love' remarked another...'think of all those divine Italian men'....
'No'.... said an Indian lady.... 'she came to India for love...she learned to love herself'....
'OK... so where did she learn to pray?' asked another....a thoughtful silence prevailed, as we tucked into our Chop Suey...
'She must have gone to Indonesia, to learn how to pray' ...
Ahem, ladies, have any of you really read the book ? The only thing you've got right so far, is Italy for the food ! ................. She learned to pray in India and found love in Bali !!!
Monday 2 August 2010
FRIENDSHIP DAY - 1ST AUGUST
Sunday 1st August was Friendship Day. August is a holy month in the Hindu calendar. Special prayers will be said in Shiva temples on Mondays and a lamp will burn continuously to help the prayers heavenward. On the 24th August they will celebrate Raksha Bandhan - the bond between brothers and sisters, when sisters pray for the long life of their brothers and brothers promise to care for their sisters - a rakhi thread is tied onto the wrist, as a token of love and faith. Friendship bangles are being sold everywhere and sms messages are flying around and read:
Spirits r ageless
Dreams r endless,
Memories r timeless,
A friend like u, priceless !
Spirits r ageless
Dreams r endless,
Memories r timeless,
A friend like u, priceless !
Thursday 29 July 2010
AFTERMATH
It was 8.30 p.m., already dark, but the unbelievable noise outside made me glance out of the window - a small vehicle with, what looked like an outsize Harley Davidson exhaust pipe on board, was slowly making its way round the building, pumping out clouds of toxic looking smoke.....! 'They're fumigating', I was told later ...'they do it when everyone is indoors at night' ...'there have been so many cases of maleria in Mumbai already because of all the water lying around, they're trying to kill the breeding mosquitoes and also the flies' !
Another consequence of the Monsoon season, is that the animal population have all moved into town ! Cows prefer walking on tarred roads to slipping around in the watery fields and have taken to lying down in the middle of the highway, sometimes in groups of 8 - 10 and completely blocking the road. It's interesting that when it starts raining, they dash for cover and huddle under buildings and any overhanging roof, to get out of the rain - I'm sure if you left a door open, you'd probably find one in your lounge, unannounced !
It's also the mating season for donkeys, so they're all in town too, checking out availability, and heralding their presence with that strange braying, which sounds like some sort of lament.
Another consequence of the Monsoon season, is that the animal population have all moved into town ! Cows prefer walking on tarred roads to slipping around in the watery fields and have taken to lying down in the middle of the highway, sometimes in groups of 8 - 10 and completely blocking the road. It's interesting that when it starts raining, they dash for cover and huddle under buildings and any overhanging roof, to get out of the rain - I'm sure if you left a door open, you'd probably find one in your lounge, unannounced !
It's also the mating season for donkeys, so they're all in town too, checking out availability, and heralding their presence with that strange braying, which sounds like some sort of lament.
Monday 26 July 2010
POLITICS
He was on his mobile again....he's been trying to sell his property and coming up against one problem after another. He had a buyer and was in the process of getting the paper work under way when things were held up because the prospective buyer's father was ill and taken into hospital. "If this deal goes through", he said, "I'll never have to work again". "It must be like waiting for the Monsoon", I remarked. But a week later, he was looking glum, the father had died and now because of the ritual period of mourning, no further business could be done.
So now, a few weeks later, why was he still looking worried? "How are things going", I asked..."He's now been arrested - he's in prison" he said dramatically ! "Holy smoke - why ?" I asked...."Well he allegedly ordered the slaying of someone who had been caught with illegal firearms, swift justice rather than taking it through the courts, it's quicker just to get rid of the culprit....the courts are overburdened with cases which will take years to clear, but now he has been charged with this and put in prison himself !" Bang goes that property deal !
So now, a few weeks later, why was he still looking worried? "How are things going", I asked..."He's now been arrested - he's in prison" he said dramatically ! "Holy smoke - why ?" I asked...."Well he allegedly ordered the slaying of someone who had been caught with illegal firearms, swift justice rather than taking it through the courts, it's quicker just to get rid of the culprit....the courts are overburdened with cases which will take years to clear, but now he has been charged with this and put in prison himself !" Bang goes that property deal !
Sunday 25 July 2010
BILASENDU AND SWAPNA
The two artists work back to back in a small studio, barely 6' across on the edge of Vadodara. They come from West Bengal and make the long journey home, once a year. 40 Hours on the train to Calcutta and then another 12 hours before they reach their villages. The whole area is crisscrossed with rivers, lakes and ponds, all stocked with fish. I had once been told that Bengalis love eating fish so much, that even when they're eating chicken, they keep a picture of a fish in their mind's eye !
"It's true" said Bilas, "...the ponds are stocked with fish and every village has a pond - the fish are caught with nets and fishing rods" The chief delicacy is a fish called 'hilsa'. It's an oily sea water fish, but swims up river to lay its eggs and this is when it is at its best. With the rapture of true connoisseurs, they told me that once you have tasted this fish, you will never forget the flavour. It's full of bones, but Bilas assured me that Bengalis have an inbred skill, of being able to eat fish whilst at the same time spitting out the bones ! And they have 150 ways of preparing hilsa.
"It's true" said Bilas, "...the ponds are stocked with fish and every village has a pond - the fish are caught with nets and fishing rods" The chief delicacy is a fish called 'hilsa'. It's an oily sea water fish, but swims up river to lay its eggs and this is when it is at its best. With the rapture of true connoisseurs, they told me that once you have tasted this fish, you will never forget the flavour. It's full of bones, but Bilas assured me that Bengalis have an inbred skill, of being able to eat fish whilst at the same time spitting out the bones ! And they have 150 ways of preparing hilsa.
Wednesday 14 July 2010
CHAKLI CIRCLE
Then there is the 'Rhinoceros round-about ' - the enormous animal is entirely made of thin strips of iron - so that this weightiest of animals becomes 'see through' ! By contrast the 'Banyan tree', which in nature is made up of weird hanging tendrils and roots, is depicted in a sculpture on the round-about as a solid lump of impenetrable concrete.
By far the strangest sculpture is the one on an intersection in Productivity Road - a startling white, glazed terracotta life-size cow and suckling calf ! Cows wander the streets and are protected and revered in all towns - I wonder what they think of this pristine beast, as they amble past ?
PANIPURI !
The table was laden with little bowls, Parul had been busy all day preparing for the snack fest. 'Come after 8.30 p.m.' she said. Her parents had come up from Mumbai and her brother and his wife lived round the corner. A neat row of shoes outside her door, indicated that the others were already there.
Now I was in for a new experience. I had seen panipuri vendors on the street, but had always been advised not to try it for reasons of hygiene ! The puri is a spherical shape rather like a golf ball made of a paper-thin, very crisp layer of fried bread, bit like a potato crisp. Parul showed me how to tap the top with a spoon to make a small hole. Then fill it with a few bean sprouts, some pieces of potato and sweet chutney. Finally, you ladle in mint water until the puri is filled up and then pop the whole thing in your mouth and crunch - bit like eating a flavored water bomb ! But what an explosion of flavors and textures - the crisp puri, the liquid pani, mint, potato and sweet chutney !
The sev puri was quite different - this consisted of round flat discs (puri) topped with layers of potato, tamarind, chutney, cumin and chilly powder, chopped onions, sev and chopped coriander, all piled into an impossible pyramid ! The closest thing to it would be Italian crostini - but the taste is definitely different !
Sev puri is actually on sale inside the cinema, to chomp on while you watch a three hour Hindi movie. Glad they don't serve panipuri - that would be tempting fate and I would hate to be the cleaner after the show !
Now I was in for a new experience. I had seen panipuri vendors on the street, but had always been advised not to try it for reasons of hygiene ! The puri is a spherical shape rather like a golf ball made of a paper-thin, very crisp layer of fried bread, bit like a potato crisp. Parul showed me how to tap the top with a spoon to make a small hole. Then fill it with a few bean sprouts, some pieces of potato and sweet chutney. Finally, you ladle in mint water until the puri is filled up and then pop the whole thing in your mouth and crunch - bit like eating a flavored water bomb ! But what an explosion of flavors and textures - the crisp puri, the liquid pani, mint, potato and sweet chutney !
The sev puri was quite different - this consisted of round flat discs (puri) topped with layers of potato, tamarind, chutney, cumin and chilly powder, chopped onions, sev and chopped coriander, all piled into an impossible pyramid ! The closest thing to it would be Italian crostini - but the taste is definitely different !
Sev puri is actually on sale inside the cinema, to chomp on while you watch a three hour Hindi movie. Glad they don't serve panipuri - that would be tempting fate and I would hate to be the cleaner after the show !
Sunday 4 July 2010
THE WAY IT WORKS - MONDAY 5TH JULY
The iron gates clanged shut just as I arrived at 8.45 a.m. "What's up"? I asked. "We were open, we opened at 6 a.m., but they have just told us to close everything for the day" ! "It's a political protest - a strike - all businesses will be closed for the day" "It's because of the hike in fuel prices - the BJP/NDA opposition parties have ordered a nation wide 'bandh' strike in protest - keep indoors this morning, there may be riots - you know, stone throwing" !!
Thursday 1 July 2010
2ND JULY, 10.00 - IT'S ARRIVED: 5" IN 3 HOURS !
Wednesday 23 June 2010
WAITING
It should have been here ten days ago.....the Monsoon ! The rain is stuck in Mumbai and those clouds just aren't moving north. A good example of Indian time.....nothing ever happens when it's supposed to. Another sunny day in Gujarat with temperatures around 40 C ! And so the heat and dust continue and everyone seems a little frustrated.
Sunday 20 June 2010
GOLD
She had an almost permanent air of melancholy about her - I was told that she came from a Royal family in Rajasthan and she reinforced this by letting slip little stories about how she was taught as a child to hold her hand in a certain way when putting on bangles, so that her hand would always remain slender and bangles would slip on and off easily. "You should begin collecting jewelery" she told me one day..."I'm expected to wear it - it's part of my image, but all Indians collect gold, because you can raise a loan on the amount of gold jewelery you possess" Years ago a Hindu woman could not own property but she could own jewelery, so it represented security for her.
The jewelery shops in India abound and many are vast three floor structures with liveried guards with turbans, to open the doors. There are particular seasons for buying gold, auspicious periods, when it will bring good luck, usually around Diwali and as I was to find out...shopping with my friend of royal blood, gold jewelery is not the 9 carat, I'm used to, but 24 and 22 carat....pure gold. The idea of shopping for jewelery seemed an absurd pastime, before I came to India, but here it is taken very seriously....you sit down to it and might be offered a little glass of tea, to help you make up your mind.
Gold jewelry is worn even by the lower castes and forms part of the wedding gift exchange....the elaborate nose ring is a sign of marriage...
The jewelery shops in India abound and many are vast three floor structures with liveried guards with turbans, to open the doors. There are particular seasons for buying gold, auspicious periods, when it will bring good luck, usually around Diwali and as I was to find out...shopping with my friend of royal blood, gold jewelery is not the 9 carat, I'm used to, but 24 and 22 carat....pure gold. The idea of shopping for jewelery seemed an absurd pastime, before I came to India, but here it is taken very seriously....you sit down to it and might be offered a little glass of tea, to help you make up your mind.
Gold jewelry is worn even by the lower castes and forms part of the wedding gift exchange....the elaborate nose ring is a sign of marriage...
JEHANGIR ART GALLERY
The animals were life size - cheetahs waking up at dawn, quartets of zebra drinking, lions staring straight ahead, crocodiles basking and so each wall was covered in amazing photography, bringing the animal kingdom right into the room - the pulse of Africa right there in that gallery space. "I'm a Med. student in London" the tall girl remarked to me...."these are my grandfather's pictures - I was on safari with him in Africa". Kunj Trevedi, was born in Tanzania, but moved to India as a school boy and started taking pictures on a box brownie...later he went into business and became the owner of the Indian Card Clothing Company" "He's 80 now" his granddaughter continued, "...and hoping to become a professional photography - it's what he has always wanted to do !"
MUMBAI IN THE RAIN
5 p.m. and the sky suddenly darkened, jagged lines of lightening ripped vertically through the sky, claps of thunder followed and then the swollen clouds burst apart and a deluge of water dropped out of the sky. The flimsy windscreen wiper on the taxi couldn't cope, the windows clouded over and everything ahead was water. The gutters at the side of the road soon filled and became dams, the taxi aquaplaned valiantly through sending up more sheets of water, I sat in the back unable to make out where we were....and then it happened....chug...chug..chug and the engine cut out. The driver skillfully pulled over to the side and we stopped. Stunned, I realised the predicament I was in ....in the middle of Mumbai in the Monsoon in a broken down taxi without an umbrella and not knowing where I was. I frantically turned over the options in my mind....there seemed only two....I either stayed in the car....or got out into the traffic and got soaked to the skin in a few seconds....to my amazement, the driver had no idea how to open the bonnet of the car nor any idea what could be wrong with it...he didn't speak English and I didn't know enough Hindi. The rain poured down - it was rather like being under a waterfall. The driver tried turning the key in the ignition again and pumping the accelerator - but it wouldn't catch. After 20 minutes or so the rain slackened off a bit - it was now or never, I yanked the door open and fled across the road - a man was selling umbrellas, I bought one without bothering to bargain, grateful for the protection and miraculously found myself in a street I recognised. Half-an-hour later, I was back at the hotel, my jeans soaking wet up to the knee !
The next day, walking around Colaba, you could see the havoc caused - some trees, bone dry for nine months of the year, have branches which overreach and extend themselves, in search of water, but with the torrential rains, the wood swells and branches become too heavy, to bear their own weight and come crashing down. Only the Banyan trees, seemed unaffected by the vagaries of nature.
The air is so laden with moisture, that my leather watch strap, bone dry and stiff in Gujarat, became as malleable as putty and wet to the touch and impossible to wear - so the Monsoon season brings a whole new set of challenges, requiring adaptation in order to survive !
The next day, walking around Colaba, you could see the havoc caused - some trees, bone dry for nine months of the year, have branches which overreach and extend themselves, in search of water, but with the torrential rains, the wood swells and branches become too heavy, to bear their own weight and come crashing down. Only the Banyan trees, seemed unaffected by the vagaries of nature.
The air is so laden with moisture, that my leather watch strap, bone dry and stiff in Gujarat, became as malleable as putty and wet to the touch and impossible to wear - so the Monsoon season brings a whole new set of challenges, requiring adaptation in order to survive !
Wednesday 16 June 2010
CLOUDS
Cloud cover and cooler.....the Monsoon has reached Mumbai - it's been raining cats and dogs there for 3 days and traffic came to a standstill - it should reach Gujarat in the next week....you can feel the proximity of the Monsoon.....everyone is waiting for the deluge.
Sunday 13 June 2010
SUNDAY
The day heats up and by midday the light and heat, entering every crack, feel like a blast from the open door of a furnace. I feel drowsy and find my eyelids drooping, moving around, causes waves of sweating - I pin my hair up on my head and wet tendrils stick to my neck. Everything is quiet outside, even the birds are silent and in the background, only the hum of Christmas bees - nobody is on the white hot street, even the dogs are silent and all shutters and doors are closed. The strange emptiness seems to intensify the stifling heat, as if everything is panting and waiting for a reprieve at sunset. I rouse myself and glance out and see two lone women walking slowly in opposite directions, their sari veils covering their heads and shielding their faces from the sun. I try and concentrate again on the pantheon of Hindu Gods and Goddesses, the page is damp under my hand, Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva, the Triad, they remind me of the Three Graces in Botticelli's painting of the 'Primavera' and the Platonic idea of the Giving, Receiving and Returning of Blessings, in an eternal dance, then there are the Goddesses Devi, Lakshmi, Sita, Radha, Parvati, Durga, Kali.....
Saturday 12 June 2010
56 C
The thermometer on his terrace registered 56 degree C today ! Tomorrow he will try the experiment of leaving an egg in a frying pan on the terrace at 3 p.m. to see if it will actually cook ! The temperature keeps rising and when the rains come, there will be a deluge with low-lying buildings flooded by meters - then they will wait for the level of the water to go down and begin the job of cleaning all the mud away...everything is so labour-intensive ! Do they exchange their summer flip-flops for wellington boots ?
ORMILA
She has bells around her ankles, Ormila, the new floor and dusting wallah. Poor Lily, had to go off to have a stomach operation ! Lily is so tiny and concave, that I hope they find her stomach and fix it ! Ormila is quite the opposite, well-built and wears leggings, kurta and dupatta. I am able to track her, whereabouts around the apartment by the tinkling of bells and so keep out of the way of her charu broom - the motion of the handle-less charu, not only sweeps the dust, but according to some, sweeps away negative energy! Sweeping is a national pastime in India, I have never encountered a vacuum cleaner ! I have observed the woman who sweeps the street outside, her hair tied in a tight bun and her colourful sari draped and folded around her - she holds the broom in her right hand, whilst the left arm is held lightly behind her back, to give her balance and grace - when I pass in the rickshaw, she looks up and smiles....
Monday 7 June 2010
RAIN
It rained today in long stripes. The herald of the Monsoon season. It's cooler. There are puddles everywhere which, with more rain, will presumably turn into great dams and acres of mud, as there is no drainage. Life on the street adjusts to the new phenomenon....a man stands under a shelter with just a towel round his waist and a gaggle of near naked children run laughing from puddle to puddle.
Saturday 5 June 2010
DINNER AT 8.30 P.M.
Are you free Friday night? "Come to dinner - the Maharajah will be there and the Deputy High Commissioner from Mumbai and the Chancellor of the University - just let me check the seating plan" !
Knowing that the rickshaw would take ages to find the address, I set off early - winding our way through the maze of dark streets, I wondered if we would ever find the place and then there it unmistakably was - lights sparkled from every tree, fairy lights decorated every corner - this was definitely it ! I paid the rickshaw and walked through the gates, a smiling guard ushered me through.
Aladdin's Cave ? The house glowed - walking through the front door, I was met by an expansive hug and introductions - paintings covered every inch of every wall and even the ceilings. Enormous vases with flowers lit up every corner. The doors of the drinks cabinet were thrown open to reveal a host of back-lit, shining bottles with everything from Whiskey to Gin. I was handed a glass of chilled white wine from his Estate in Southern India - the tallest wine glass I'd ever seen, with a stem which was achingly slim. Set out on a carved circular table, were a tempting display of olives, stuffed chillies and assorted h'orderves. Guests filtered in, some were industrialists who made machinery of different types - threshing machines, ball bearings, etc., there were also artists and writers and of course the Maharajah and his wife. A guest, dressed in a sari with large bindi, stood in front of one of her canvases - bold figurative work with large slashing brush strokes, she pointed out several other of her works in the room. Dinner was served at 9.30 p.m.- mutton, chicken, stuffed aubergines, briyani and paneer, served in exotic ceramic bowls. We were seated on chairs draped with silk ribbon bows, white table cloths and gold-plated cutlery. Wine was served from two headed decanters, lamps glowed, opera played in the background. A toast was raised, "To the honoured guest", laughter abounded. Our host looked after every little detail. Desert was served. The High Commissioner raised a toast to our host, who looked pleased - the air conditioning kept everything cool. Waiters refilled glasses. And then it was time to go.....unlike Italy, where people linger after a meal, here in India, they leave directly !
Was that what it feels like to be whisked along to a fairy kingdom on a magic carpet ?
Knowing that the rickshaw would take ages to find the address, I set off early - winding our way through the maze of dark streets, I wondered if we would ever find the place and then there it unmistakably was - lights sparkled from every tree, fairy lights decorated every corner - this was definitely it ! I paid the rickshaw and walked through the gates, a smiling guard ushered me through.
Aladdin's Cave ? The house glowed - walking through the front door, I was met by an expansive hug and introductions - paintings covered every inch of every wall and even the ceilings. Enormous vases with flowers lit up every corner. The doors of the drinks cabinet were thrown open to reveal a host of back-lit, shining bottles with everything from Whiskey to Gin. I was handed a glass of chilled white wine from his Estate in Southern India - the tallest wine glass I'd ever seen, with a stem which was achingly slim. Set out on a carved circular table, were a tempting display of olives, stuffed chillies and assorted h'orderves. Guests filtered in, some were industrialists who made machinery of different types - threshing machines, ball bearings, etc., there were also artists and writers and of course the Maharajah and his wife. A guest, dressed in a sari with large bindi, stood in front of one of her canvases - bold figurative work with large slashing brush strokes, she pointed out several other of her works in the room. Dinner was served at 9.30 p.m.- mutton, chicken, stuffed aubergines, briyani and paneer, served in exotic ceramic bowls. We were seated on chairs draped with silk ribbon bows, white table cloths and gold-plated cutlery. Wine was served from two headed decanters, lamps glowed, opera played in the background. A toast was raised, "To the honoured guest", laughter abounded. Our host looked after every little detail. Desert was served. The High Commissioner raised a toast to our host, who looked pleased - the air conditioning kept everything cool. Waiters refilled glasses. And then it was time to go.....unlike Italy, where people linger after a meal, here in India, they leave directly !
Was that what it feels like to be whisked along to a fairy kingdom on a magic carpet ?
Thursday 3 June 2010
THE VIEW FROM THE 11TH FLOOR
His offices occupied the whole of the top floor - a circular tower in the middle of the town. Huge windows provided an uninterrupted view of the city and its domes and temples and the vast expanse of typical flat topped buildings, which give Baroda its distinctive appearance. He pointed out the Maharajah's palace through one window, then the Victorian red brick museum and through another window, the dome of MS University. But the view from the last window was the most interesting.... the river was down below, choked with river weed and mangroves..... then to my astonishment, brazenly swimming amongst it, were the most enormous crocodiles I've ever seen. So the stories were true - crocodiles were seen in the middle of town, some years back, during the severe Monsoon floods and furthermore, many animals from the city zoo had gone missing at the time....!
Sunday 30 May 2010
Friday 28 May 2010
SURESH BLOSSOM
'You've come, you've come', Suresh ran towards me. He seemed even thinner than the last time I'd seen him, his eyes even larger and a smile of sheer delight spread over his entire face. He'd won the scholarship and was now a Junior Research Fellow at the Contemporary Art Society Library for a month - he was to read his paper on "Monsters in Indian Art" to an invited audience, at 4 p.m. Indian Time. The last time he had tried to read a paper, at a conference, it was a dismal flop because he hadn't slept for 4 days and had read 150 books ! So this time, the first thing I asked, was whether he had slept. 'No', the other students chorused', even worse' ! How could it be worse, I wondered...... 'He deleted not the file, but the contents of the file, on the computer....there was no way of retrieving it'. 'What! ? You mean... Monsters in Indian Art by Suresh Blossom was empty?' 'Yes, yes' they chorused again, 'he had to sit up all night and write it again.' !
I was expecting the worst, but the reading of the paper, apart from a few stumbles and re-positioning of the mic...and minor problems with the wrong images appearing at unexpected times, so that one was whisked from 20th c Brancusi to paleolithic art in a few uncomfortable seconds and back again, it passed without incident. We all clapped and Suresh looked relieved to have it over and done with.
And now to celebrate the occasion, smoke a 'bidi' and drink a cup of chai from the chai wallah down on the street below. A chair was found for me and dusted off, it had a split right across it and I hoped I wouldn't fall through,. An old emaciated man, looking for all the world like an Old Testament Prophet, with flowing caftan and only one arm, the empty sleeve of the missing arm, was neatly pinned across his chest to the right shoulder - in a permanent 'cross my heart' gesture, directed operations and told them to move the chair into the shade, so that I was protected from the sun - he then retired into a corner and opened a book, the Koran perhaps and was soon lost in its contents. A young boy, about 10 years old, sucking a plastic tube filled with ice, was told to bring us tea.. Tea was brewed in a large aluminum kettle over a fire and then strained through muslin into little glasses. In the corner a woman in a sari sat on her haunches, her face partly obscured by her sari veil, grinding Marsala tea spice with pestle and mortar.
We chatted about philosophy and the differences between art in the East and West....then it was time to go - I offered to pay for tea but my purse was shooed away by Suresh, Junior Research Fellow, who said that I was his honoured guest ! I swear he's grown a couple of inches....?
I was expecting the worst, but the reading of the paper, apart from a few stumbles and re-positioning of the mic...and minor problems with the wrong images appearing at unexpected times, so that one was whisked from 20th c Brancusi to paleolithic art in a few uncomfortable seconds and back again, it passed without incident. We all clapped and Suresh looked relieved to have it over and done with.
And now to celebrate the occasion, smoke a 'bidi' and drink a cup of chai from the chai wallah down on the street below. A chair was found for me and dusted off, it had a split right across it and I hoped I wouldn't fall through,. An old emaciated man, looking for all the world like an Old Testament Prophet, with flowing caftan and only one arm, the empty sleeve of the missing arm, was neatly pinned across his chest to the right shoulder - in a permanent 'cross my heart' gesture, directed operations and told them to move the chair into the shade, so that I was protected from the sun - he then retired into a corner and opened a book, the Koran perhaps and was soon lost in its contents. A young boy, about 10 years old, sucking a plastic tube filled with ice, was told to bring us tea.. Tea was brewed in a large aluminum kettle over a fire and then strained through muslin into little glasses. In the corner a woman in a sari sat on her haunches, her face partly obscured by her sari veil, grinding Marsala tea spice with pestle and mortar.
We chatted about philosophy and the differences between art in the East and West....then it was time to go - I offered to pay for tea but my purse was shooed away by Suresh, Junior Research Fellow, who said that I was his honoured guest ! I swear he's grown a couple of inches....?
Wednesday 26 May 2010
ONE FINGER FOR RICE
"You have to learn the language" said Dhamaraj, the owner of the Thali Restaurant on Jetalpur Road. We. were surrounded by tables gleaming with the typical stainless steel Thali trays and bowls. The bowls are filled with two different curried vegetables, one curried pulse, one dahl and and 4 rotis, a little starter, a salad, a little bowl of something sweet and a glass of buttermilk. These trays are constantly re-filled by waiters who watch to see which of your little bowls is looking a little low! Ultimately, rice is served, using a special ladle and is eaten with dahl.. But today Dhamaraj was teaching me the sign language of Thali communication - I felt rather honoured at being admitted to this trade secret ! If you want more of anything, having first caught the waiter's eye, ( rather like being at an auction at Sothebys), it's one finger for rice, two crooked fingers for dahl, four fingers for curried veg., chopping motion with the blade of the hand for salad and a paddling motion, like a wave gone wrong if you want more rotis ! No more waiting to be noticed....!
Friday 21 May 2010
IT'S ARRIVED !
You could feel it in the air two days ago, the humidity.....the MONSOON!... it's arrived ! It's raining in Southern India ! Everyone's talking about it...it hit Kerala and Kanataka a few days ago. It'll reach Mumbai by mid-June, so everyone thinks and Vadodara by the end of June - then we'll all run out and enjoy getting wet. We haven't even seen a cloud for a year ! Dry, arid, Gujarat is waiting for the deluge !
Bilas can't wait, the commissioned oil painting is finished, but with the humidity, it'll take a month to dry - so he's heading for the Himalayas - 'I can't wait to feel the cool air of the forests, in the foothills of the mountains.' he said with conviction, and you could almost hear him putting down his paintbrush and running out the door.
Bilas can't wait, the commissioned oil painting is finished, but with the humidity, it'll take a month to dry - so he's heading for the Himalayas - 'I can't wait to feel the cool air of the forests, in the foothills of the mountains.' he said with conviction, and you could almost hear him putting down his paintbrush and running out the door.
Thursday 20 May 2010
DEBUNKING BANKIM
Bankim sat behind his desk looking urbane and satisfied. An easy smile creased his face every now and then. He looked like an ex public school boy, tall, medium build, nice looking, without it being worrying and above all, confident. I sat on the other side of the desk. Bankim is a property developer cum house agent and I'd come to talk to him about finding an apartment. His 'office' is situated on the ground floor of a three-story structure which he built 3 years ago. The interesting thing is that it is just a concrete shell with no front to it. Bankim occupies the whole of the vast ground floor - and in this huge space there is only Bankim's desk and 2 chairs ! The building has no walls so a pleasant breeze passes through this wind sock, making air conditioning unnecessary.
'The value of this property has increased by 100%,and it's increasing in value as I sit here' ! He quoted square meter prices to me and converted them into dollar and pound value with the help of his Blackberry. We talked about property as an investment and he spoke with the easy assurance of someone in the 'know'. 'Well you can make a lot of money out of property, but some people don't' 'But how can you be sure of making a profit in the property business', I asked. 'It's all written in your horoscope - we have one drawn up when we are born' he replied !
Why worry, when it's all written in the stars ?
'The value of this property has increased by 100%,and it's increasing in value as I sit here' ! He quoted square meter prices to me and converted them into dollar and pound value with the help of his Blackberry. We talked about property as an investment and he spoke with the easy assurance of someone in the 'know'. 'Well you can make a lot of money out of property, but some people don't' 'But how can you be sure of making a profit in the property business', I asked. 'It's all written in your horoscope - we have one drawn up when we are born' he replied !
Why worry, when it's all written in the stars ?
Saturday 15 May 2010
IN A NUT SHELL
One tall Italian technician not speaking one word of English, having arrived 10 days earlier, a group of puzzled Indian factory managers and me, versed in the arts of the Italian Renaissance, holding the key to it all. Could I translate his technical know-how into English for the factory owners and their questions into Italian for the specialist - this would involve a whole pantheon of new vocabulary involving words like cast iron, molds, conveyor belts, nickel and chrome to add to my 'contrapposto' 'sfumato' and chiaroscuro !
'We want to be better than the best in the world', the Manager explained. The machines around us hissed and steamed, the noise was terrible. We retreated from the factory floor into an air conditioned cubicle. As they explained their aspirations, the technician explained the limitations....'you need to change the equipment - it needs to be upgraded...you need also then to change the training and thinking of the work force from the lowest to the highest....you cannot have machines breaking down and stopping for one hour here and two hours there...you need to spend more on raw materials..if you want to enhance the quality.....this will be expensive...we had to do it in Italy in 1962...it was tedious and took time and a lot of effort...your staff need to be dedicated and put in many working hours...to achieve this improved target'
Now I looked for a reply from the factory managers...'hmmmm, but the equipment is old...it is always breaking down...we cannot change from cast iron to steel overnight....it will cost a lot and more than this...... it is the marriage season at the moment and a lot of the workers are not here, even our factory manager is not here - he is attending a wedding and weddings can take days, here in India' ..... 'La stagione di amore', said the Italian admiringly.....'si..... quella e una grossa problema - difficile, non si puo fare niente'! !?
'We want to be better than the best in the world', the Manager explained. The machines around us hissed and steamed, the noise was terrible. We retreated from the factory floor into an air conditioned cubicle. As they explained their aspirations, the technician explained the limitations....'you need to change the equipment - it needs to be upgraded...you need also then to change the training and thinking of the work force from the lowest to the highest....you cannot have machines breaking down and stopping for one hour here and two hours there...you need to spend more on raw materials..if you want to enhance the quality.....this will be expensive...we had to do it in Italy in 1962...it was tedious and took time and a lot of effort...your staff need to be dedicated and put in many working hours...to achieve this improved target'
Now I looked for a reply from the factory managers...'hmmmm, but the equipment is old...it is always breaking down...we cannot change from cast iron to steel overnight....it will cost a lot and more than this...... it is the marriage season at the moment and a lot of the workers are not here, even our factory manager is not here - he is attending a wedding and weddings can take days, here in India' ..... 'La stagione di amore', said the Italian admiringly.....'si..... quella e una grossa problema - difficile, non si puo fare niente'! !?
BRANDING
They all had to come off - the gold bracelet, which has never left my wrist, was first, then gold necklace, rings and earrings and finally my watch. Walking around in temperatures of 45 C plus, is lethal, if you are wearing metal and I have scorch marks and wheals to show for it - so the little pile of branding irons has been relegated to a cupboard, awaiting the Monsoon and cooler weather !
Having only had cold water in the hot taps in winter, we now have only hot water in the cold taps in summer - the water tanks are stored out on the roof !
Having only had cold water in the hot taps in winter, we now have only hot water in the cold taps in summer - the water tanks are stored out on the roof !
Wednesday 12 May 2010
INFERNO
Clouds of dust created a smokey haze over the road as sari clad women, bearing basins of sand on their heads, threw the contents onto the road and returned to a seemingly never diminishing pile to repeat the process. To one side, three barrels of tar boiled on an open wood fire sending up plumes of smoke to add to the haze. Women carrying basins of tar stepped over the rough stones in their slip slops, while others prepared for their shift at the cauldron. Piles of stones of different grades waited to be tipped onto the road. This image of human toil, heat and dust, blazing fires and 45 C temperatures, seemed worthy of Dante ! Jetalpur Road is under construction - every inch of it hand made.
In sharp contrast to this mayhem is the suspension bridge which connects north and south Mumbai, opened by Sonia Gandhi last year. Suspended above the Arabian Sea, its elegant lines soar overhead and stretch for over 5 kms, the thin steel cables beautifully lit at night, look ethereal and suffuse, as one flies over a surface, seemingly held up effortlessly, by gossamer threads, with the glittering lights of the city, as a backdrop. The changing face of India.
In sharp contrast to this mayhem is the suspension bridge which connects north and south Mumbai, opened by Sonia Gandhi last year. Suspended above the Arabian Sea, its elegant lines soar overhead and stretch for over 5 kms, the thin steel cables beautifully lit at night, look ethereal and suffuse, as one flies over a surface, seemingly held up effortlessly, by gossamer threads, with the glittering lights of the city, as a backdrop. The changing face of India.
Friday 7 May 2010
Thursday 6 May 2010
TWO STRANGE TALES
"I was looking at this tree when all of a sudden, for about 18 seconds, leaves started falling from it. After a few minutes, the same thing happened again and leaves began falling to the ground - what do you think of that ?" "Are you sure there wasn't a monkey in the tree or a crow ?" I asked skeptically. The business man and owner of the Thali Restaurant, where I had just eaten lunch, looked at me and shook his head. "No it was Autumn and because there is no wind to shake the leaves down, the tree has devised a way of doing it" It was 45 C outside, the fan whirled behind me, could this serious man seriously believe that a tree could shed its leaves at will, as if it had a mind ?
"There was a small shrine in our garden, where I grew up, dedicated to the snake god and a viper, lived near that shrine - it had white whiskers or white markings which looked like whiskers. Every evening it would come into the centre of our yard and lie there for all to see. My great grandfather first noticed it and the story was handed down the family generation by generation, I saw it myself as a boy...the same snake....which means it was 150 years old ! We believed it protected our family... And it did. One day my brother's son, who ran a motorbike business in a private complex, had his business closed after a dispute with the residents of the complex. They locked the doors of the shop and put padlocks on all entrances. My nephew was very upset and went to the shrine to pray to the snake god. That night the watchman reported seeing a snake which was unafraid of his stick, it approached him and then after a few moments, slithered off to the premises where the shop was and wound itself around each padlock and then left, as silently as it had come. First thing the next morning the locks were taken off the doors, the residents said the dispute was over, he would be allowed to continue to run his business. His prayer was answered." In the heat of the day, I was mesmerized, feeling transfixed by his unblinking gaze - had I imagined these stories ?
"There was a small shrine in our garden, where I grew up, dedicated to the snake god and a viper, lived near that shrine - it had white whiskers or white markings which looked like whiskers. Every evening it would come into the centre of our yard and lie there for all to see. My great grandfather first noticed it and the story was handed down the family generation by generation, I saw it myself as a boy...the same snake....which means it was 150 years old ! We believed it protected our family... And it did. One day my brother's son, who ran a motorbike business in a private complex, had his business closed after a dispute with the residents of the complex. They locked the doors of the shop and put padlocks on all entrances. My nephew was very upset and went to the shrine to pray to the snake god. That night the watchman reported seeing a snake which was unafraid of his stick, it approached him and then after a few moments, slithered off to the premises where the shop was and wound itself around each padlock and then left, as silently as it had come. First thing the next morning the locks were taken off the doors, the residents said the dispute was over, he would be allowed to continue to run his business. His prayer was answered." In the heat of the day, I was mesmerized, feeling transfixed by his unblinking gaze - had I imagined these stories ?
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