A MONTH IN THE COUNTRY

Mary's Villa, nestling in a valley in Chianti, just outside Florence, with a view of the fabled villa of Mona Lisa in the distance, was an idyllic spot and so when I was invited to come and stay for July/August, I accepted unhesitatingly.   I had not been back to Italy for two years and as I packed my bags, a kaleidoscope of images ran through my mind - cyprus trees, grey green olives, ordered landscapes, a cup of coffee, images frozen in time - like a Renaissance painting, representing a life of refinement, of history and tradition.

Although I have reflected on the many cultural similarities between Italy and India, there are also fundamental differences.  Italy, with its aging population, represents a bygone age, whereas India, with its culture of youth, is vibrant and full of confidence, as it emerges in the new world order - a place of chaos, dirt, noise and energy - a seething mass of humanity.  Beauty, here is not found in what you see, but in what you don't see.  There is a beguiling rhythm of life, which is enveloping.

Yellow turmeric, red chili powder, masala, tea from Assam, a small piece of hand embroidered tribal patchwork, block printed pashminas from Rajasthan, papier mache ornaments from Kashmir, floral kurtis from Gujarat decorated with tiny mirrors.....small gifts to take from one culture to another.

A FAREWELL

Hannelore was leaving - we couldn't believe the news.  She and her husband had been in Gujarat for 4 years - he had come over from Germany as CEO and Managing Director of a German start-up company in India.  They were doing well and expanding fast and so we assumed that they'd always be here, for some reason.  Hannelore was a key member of the expat club - tall, vibrant, positive and athletic - always beautifully dressed, whether in Indian clothes or western dress, she had embraced the colour and exotic dash of the Indian culture and combined it with German cut and polish to create an immaculate image.  For company events she wore wonderful saris with flare and was often out and about in shalwar kameez.

Although so many European economies are in the doldrums, the German economy is growing, fast, largely due to their expansion in developing markets, like India.  They are combining and blending what India has to offer with German precision and organisation.

But now they were going back to Germany and we were saying goodbye at a specially arranged lunch.  We felt a little sad - an image of  Gericault's  'The Raft of Medusa',  crept into my mind,  as I thought of the small expat group, with their common ground, in the midst of a huge foreign culture.

Hannelore arrived with a flourish - the 4 x 4 pulled up outside - instructions called to the driver to unload the van - two enormous industrial size packages were offloaded and dragged into the hall - "they are for you" she told us dramatically !    "Siempre 10 x 160 blatt - Federweich und flauschig"  -  could it be toilet paper ?  It certainly was - imported from Germany !  Ten rolls for each of us !  Now that was some farewell present.  The indigenous toilet arrangements in India are very particular - no paper - instead a small hose or tap and water jug, is most common and so this was a luxury beyond one's wildest expectations !  "160 blatt" is of a softness and refinement unimaginable !

She left a month ago, but we think of her...... every day.

BUILDING BRICKS AND CORNER STONES

"He's a hard core Gujarati", Meera remarked and I wondered what that might mean....Devendra, who speaks only Gujarati brought his young nephew along as a translator - they were taking me out to see their brickworks.  India is the birth place of brick-making and 50% of all structures are made of this basic material.  Gujarat, being an alluvial plain,  is ideal for the industry, whose history goes back to the Indus Valley Civilisation, some 2500 years BC.

The bricks are hand made and kiln fired - 200 workers make 40 000 per day and are paid per brick.  We were sitting under a 'lean to' sipping 7-up and watching the monsoon rain falling.  The industry comes to an end during the monsoon months, as you cannot make mud bricks in the rain - so it's a cyclical industry.  "We'll reopen at Dussehra, a festival in late October celebrating the triumph of Lord Rama over the demon, Ravana - there'll be a puja and fireworks" explained, Devendra.

"Hand made in India" means just that - every brick is hand made by someone who has been doing it for a lifetime, from a family who have been doing it for a lifetime - the bricks are taken to the kiln for firing by donkey.  But their main revenue comes during the monsoon months, when contractors rely on the stockpile of bricks, to keep the building industry going and then the price goes up five-fold.  Devendra grinned, as he remarked that it is an industry which does not require any education, but it does require start up capital, which many don't have.  Workers have to be paid in advance, or they take their labour elsewhere and regulatory officials, too,  have to be paid....!

The key players of this little business were all present - his father aged 82, who had the foresight to buy the land 20 years ago at a knock down price,  Devendra himself, who manages the show,  Atul, his trusted store keeper and caretaker and Bashir, who provides the labour !  "He beats them if they don't work properly" explained Devendra.  Well I guess you need to have some motivation, apart from a tot of the lethal liquor they make illegally from the Mahuda Tree ?

MONSOON

The monsoon has arrived in Gujarat, like some long awaited visit from a distant relative - looked for,  hoped for, waited for and then on arrival chaos with unexpected hiccups, as the deluge drowns everything.  Streets transformed into dams, children splash and swim in the deepest parts, grinning and cavorting and cars aquaplane through roads, sending up bow waves of water.  Whole streets become impassable as they turn into lakes.  Auto-rickshaws erect canvas flaps to the side of their vehicles, creating cosy interiors.  Everyone grins, there's a sense of camaraderie - "the monsoon has arrived",  prefixes every conversation.  Dry, arid Gujarat, the last State in India to receive rain, is awash with water - cleaning, scouring and renewing and the joy is palpable.

JUNGLE WARFARE

My heart was pounding.  I stood watching from the little wrought iron balcony overlooking the vacant land surrounded by tall mango trees.  A pack of young feral street dogs were chasing a large monkey down below, I urged the monkey on, sure that it would be faster than the lead dog, but the hound suddenly made a leap and I was stunned to see his jaws clamp down - he had the monkey - flashes of grey and black as the dog tried to secure its grip on the downed monkey - I feared for the worst and then over the wall, came unexpected help, two monkeys, teeth bared, all tales and legs, came to rescue their fallen comrade.  The dog startled, let go his grip, the backup team of dogs too slow and the monkeys leapt away to safety.

Watching these primates from my window every day, I marvel at the bond and social cohesion between them !  The playful mischievousness of the little ones, the petting and grooming of the older ones and the care of the females, for their young.  The dogs clearly weren't expecting a united and fearless group response, to the dilemma of one !