2 RUPEES = 0.028 EUROS

"Have you got change", a familiar cry in India - but what is strange is that it is usually the shopkeeper who asks the customer for change !  Frequently, when small change is unavailable, you are offered toffees, or sometimes even a small piece of dairy milk chocolate, instead !

But today I was handed a 2 rupee note - I hadn't seen one before - the coin is more common currency.  This beautiful little note, about half the size of a 10 rupee note, has the image of a magnificent tiger on the back.

MARKET VALUES

A visit to the Market in the main piazza of Le Cure in Florence, was always a high point in the morning.  The stall holders would arrive early - about 4 a.m., to set up their tables.  Depending on the time of year, there would be heaps of artichokes, porcini mushrooms, celery, juicy tomatoes, cucumbers, bunches of onions, a variety of lettuces - a fabulous array of fruit and vegetables.  The quality of this produce has justifiably made Italian cooking famous !  Further down the market, were the olives, bottles of wine, cheeses and cold meats - I admired the way the  proprietor would lovingly slice the thinnest pieces of prosciutto crudo, to lay carefully onto individual paper sheets.  If you were treated with a smile during your purchases, you knew that it would be added to your bill - but it didn't really matter - they would also crunch a bunch of basil and flat leaf parsley and tuck that in with your veggies for free !  What a fragrance - it made everything right with the world.

In India, after an early visit to the central market, the barrow boys come round to your street corner - their vegetable carts supported on huge wheels - they each have their own individual call - everyone has their preferred veggie seller.  They arrive with coconuts, which they obligingly prepare for you by cutting off the top with a huge knife - this makes it easy to store in the fridge - the little plug can be cut out and a straw inserted, when you are ready to drink the coconut water.  They spray the produce with water to make it look more appealing in the surrounding heat and dust.  And instead of a complimentary bunch of parsley and basil, you get the Indian equivalent - coriander and green chillies !

WATER

Access to drinking water is something which concerns everyone and since it is not available on tap, there seem to be a variety of different methods of dealing with this.  There is the portable plastic purifier which needs to be manually filled and the filter changed periodically.  Then the more up-market apartments have electric purifiers - the contraption is connected near the sink in the kitchen and the water automatically flows through and is cleaned and filtered through bottles of chemicals at the back of the purifier, a thin blue tube rests permanently in the sink, to allow excess water to escape from the system.  You can also buy 20 litre bottles of fresh water, which when upturned, on a special pedestal, provide water via a little tap.

But the bungalow was different.  Built in the 1960s with hipped roof and large glass windows, it looked like a typical western style suburban house.  "You'll get fresh drinking water from the right-hand tap in the kitchen between the hours of 8.30 and 9.30 a.m. and you will have to collect this water in containers to supply your needs during the day"  I was told.  I waited in vain, turning the tap on sharply at 8.30 in the morning, but never a trickle of water came through that tap.  I tried leaving the faucet open, permanently, but to no avail.  Giving up on it, I opted to have 20 litres of water delivered to my door every week and forgot about the tap.

One year later, unexpectedly hearing the sound of running water, I walked into the kitchen and to my astonishment found clean water coming from the right-hand tap !  Sure enough, for one hour in the morning, I can now fill various jugs and bowls with clean drinking water until 9.30, when, like clockwork, the phenomenon comes to an abrupt end, until the next morning !

COLOUR

The minute you walk into the Audience Chamber on the upper floor of the Palazzo Vecchio (Florence), Francesco Salviati's frescoes draw you like a magnet.  After the controlled use of symbolic colour in the 15c,  following the protocol laid down in previous times for religious art, these mid-16th c paintings are a thrilling riot of indulgence.  Non religious subjects allowed artists to experiment with different hues in depicting fabric, like shot silk, long before the advent of Impressionism and its  en plein air theories.

But the Renaissance colour palette doesn't prepare you for the explosive force of colour in India - there are no rules - brilliant colours and shouting dissonances, extravagantly jostle together, embellished with shiny sequins and braids, shimering under the hot light of a continuous regime of sunshine and heat - overwhelming to an eye used to the veiled luminosity of pastels in Europe.



Construction workers (left) making cement in Gujarat.....

"....EASIER FOR A CAMEL TO PASS THROUGH THE EYE OF A NEEDLE..."

This Biblical image has always seemed extraordinary to me.  If you were going to think of something impossible - why not an elephant - were the camels' humps of some importance, adding an extra dimension of difficulty in getting it through the eye of the needle ?  But as it turns out,  it was all down to a miss-translation from Greek to Latin - kamelos and kamilos, the latter meaning rope !

The nomadic Fakirani Jats of Kutch are camel breeders and the women are noted for their embroidery - they originated from the Sindh district of Pakistan, but with the partition of India and Pakistan, they became separated from the original tribe and now wander the desert regions of Kutch with their herds of camels, constantly on the move in search of water and grazing.

There is something wonderful and exotic seeing them set off with all their tents and belongings loaded onto the top of a camel - walking one behind the other, they create vibrant colour in the barren dusty landscape, as their animals undulate along the road in their unhurried progress.  These 'ships of the desert', with inscrutable expressions, always enlivened Renaissance paintings of the Nativity and the procession of the Three Kings - showing the artist's lack of first-hand knowledge of these animals from the East, in depicting them with random proportions and vague anatomical detail !

Could Gentile da Fabriano, ever have imagined a camel carrying it's calf on its back, wrapped in a hand woven cloth bag ?  Now that would have been a fabulous detail to observe in a 15th c painting of the 'Adoration of the Magi' - how evocative it would have been of the difficulties of a long, long, journey!

NET WORTH

The catch seemed hardly worth the effort.  The beautiful Chinese Fishing Nets at Fort Kochi are a great tourist attraction at sunset - a combination of strong structural lines and delicate fish netting, their immense cantilevered weight looks weightless, as they hang out over the water, with nets 20 metres wide.  They are a permanent land installation, which arrived in Fort Kochi 500 years ago, according to some, introduced by the Chinese Explorer Zheng He.  Others suggest that they were brought in by the Portuguese a couple of centuries ago.

Constructed from bamboo and teak, 10 metres in height, the weight of the structure is counter-balanced by heavy stones at one end and at the other, the delicate curves of the netting.  The 11 remaining fishing nets at Fort Kochi (there used to be 30 between Vypeen and Fort Kochi) are lowered and raised at least 30 times a day by 5 or 6 fishermen and the small catch is sold to passers by.

The nets are expensive to maintain, but it would seem that the real urgency lies in funding the regeneration, nurture and preservation of the fish stocks, to prevent them from dying out completely !  Small fish are a sure sign of over-fishing, therefore a period set aside allowing fish to spawn and grow, would be a way of restoring the balance.

THE WHITE PLASTIC CHAIR

They're as ubiquitous as sunshine and rickshaws.  They have no significance in singularity, but rather in their power as a group.  They seem to be a kind of symbol for the democratic fabric of the society and appear at all sorts of occasions:  the opening of a new business, or the outdoor lecture of a visiting swami, or a lavish housewarming party.....but the event which they almost define, is that great social occasion: the wedding.

Party plots have sprung up all over town and in the wedding season, they are always in use.  Organisers of these occasions are able to create the most exotic venues in a matter of hours, beautifully decorated with flowers, drapes and canopies and the serried ranks of uniform white plastic stack chairs, are an important part of the event planning.  They face the stage or platform, being the focal point of the celebration and their number denotes the importance of the occasion.  Very often these chairs are empty, accommodating the sociable and free spirited nature of the guests, who have wandered off somewhere else - but still they serve as a reminder, about the true purpose of the gathering, a still point in the hullaballoo of loud music and bright lights - they have a certain gravitas, decorum and reliability, like a compass pointing true north !

THE GLUE POT

Dashing to the Night Post Office, I realised that I'd forgotten to bring my own  glue stick - drat, oh drat - a serious oversight !  Nothing sticks in the dry Indian climate - envelopes, stamps etc - every adhesive surface dries out and needs copious quantities of extra glue.  So now I was faced with having to use 'The Glue Pot' provided by the P.O.

This iniquitous object is a dirty shade of blue and is streaked with lava like globules of ancient glue which has dripped down the sides - these have become coated with dust and sticky fingerprints.
The applicator stick pokes out of the pot and is equally embellished with inches of dried glue.  Sometimes the contents are over diluted and this watery solution, when applied to the stamp, causes it to float over the surface of the envelope, without ever staying in one place !  No amount of dabbing makes any difference !  But today the glue had dried out and could be applied in sticky lumps -  she had given me 30 stamps for the Christmas parcel I was posting abroad !  Half an hour later, I regarded my handiwork with some anxiety - the formidable array of stamps, had taken on a three dimensional quality !

DIWALI - SEASON OF KISMIS AND CUSTARD APPLES

There is a general air of expectation and growing excitement as the festive season of lights comes into view - everyone making plans to return to family or village, a week in advance of the festivities - so that one feels as if everything is grinding to a halt, long before the actual dates of 13th and 14th November.  Some businesses close for 5 days or more and everyone is on the move.  Chinese lanterns and coloured lights illuminate the darkest corners and even the city slums are strung with tinsel.

Shops are piled high with elaborately decorated boxes of varying grades of opulence, packed with cashew nuts, almonds, raisins and chocolates, for those who can afford them and the smaller shops carefully weigh out little plastic bags of kismis, (raisins) for those who can only afford a few grams of festive food.

However, I think the real treat of this time of year is the 'Custard Apple' !  Never having come across it before, the intricacies of this New World, tropical fruit, need explaining.  They resemble an artichoke in a way, yellowish in colour - with raised cells, a little reptilian, if you think of them as scales, like the pudgy paw of a crocodile or armadillo !  "You have to look for fruit where the raised cells are beginning to divide away, as if ready to split,  then you should feel the fruit - it should be very soft to the touch"  she explained.  "Avoid the hard ones - they won't ever ripen !"

The fruit opens at the slightest pressure, revealing a soft custardy interior, packed with watermelon size seeds. Then with a little spoon, you can scoop out the custardy interior - the flavour is like no other fruit - rich, creamy and delicious !

RULE OF THUMB IN THE RICE PADDY

The regimented rows of the rice paddy in the wetlands of Emakulam, near Kochi, were beautiful in their ordered layout. But rice paddies are becoming something of an emotive subject - with the increasing value of land, many rice paddies are being filled in for building construction, or more cash valuable crops like rubber and coconut palms.  Oxen and water buffalo are ideally adapted to work the paddies, but the labourers, in this labour intensive occupation, are becoming more expensive in terms of wages.  

Interestingly, the local Kerala rice has a tolerance for the salinity of the tidal backwaters of the area - the main cultivation period is between April and November, when salinity is at its lowest, due to the Monsoons.   But in the intervening months, prawn farming takes over - the prawns swim in from the sea, the inflow of water to the area being controlled by sluice gates - they feed on the remnants of the harvested rice - and they in turn, leave fertilizer for the new rice cultivation of the following season.  Needless to say, Kerala rice is rich in protein and has a slightly pinkish colour !

The importance of the rice crop for the socio/cultural life of the people is marked by the ten day  Harvest Festival, Onam, when colourful designs are created with flowers to celebrate the harvest.

MORNING DOWNFALL

DUSSEHRA

Mrs Patel was out early - she held a tray with a burning stick of incense and a bright pile of garlands of yellow and orange flowers - she draped a garland over each and every vehicle belonging to a family member - two scooters and five cars.  This was the day of Dussehra, the tenth day after Navratri, the celebration of Shakti and Divine Energy in the form of garba dancing for nine nights.  Today was the finale of the event and everyone would be celebrating.  It was a day for blessing your machines, I was told - including your computers !  Even the 'tread-mill', 'cross-trainers' and bicycles at the local gym were decorated with a flower.

Every vehicle in the town was draped with garlands, the townscape had been transformed into yellow and orange.  Special sweets were on sale everywhere - yellow fafda and orange jalebi !

Despite the carnival atmosphere and general mood of celebration,  a strict eye is kept on illegal drinking,  Gujarat being a prohibition zone.  As the large 4 x 4 car left the very expensive new district of the town, police flagged it down and the driver was asked to get out of the vehicle and open the trunk,  a man dressed in white kurti and pygamas, officiated:  "they are checking for bootleggers" I was told !!

CHINESE FISHING NETS AT KOCHI

THE AMBASSADOR

The car drew up outside the posh hotel - not a spot of rust on its vintage white and cream chassis, this Hindustan Ambassador gleamed from frequent polishing.  Anthony, the driver, was to take me to the airport an hour away.  He got out and opened the boot of the car for the luggage and then gave the back seat a final dust down and pushed the front seat forward to give me more leg room.  "The body is original" he told me "but I had a new engine put in in 2007 and it's now done 400 000 kms.  They don't make them like this any more" !  (The Hindustan Ambassador is based on the British Morris Oxford III Series of the 1950s - dubbed the 'King of Indian Roads').

As we got under way, he told me a remarkable story.  Some years previously, the hotel had sent him to the airport to pick up a visitor from Switzerland - along the way they had got chatting and as she was staying at the hotel for a couple of weeks, she asked to meet his family, his wife and daughters and so began an unlikely friendship.  She was alone and lonely and liked his family.

One day Anthony told her of his plans to build a new house - "then build it" she said "and add on a room for me, so that whenever I come to India, I can stay with your family - I'll give you a lump sum in Swiss Franks, as my long term investment in the project !"  And so he did just that.  He built a new home in the style of the hotel with the same colour scheme - white, cream and brown woodwork - the colonial style.  He had some of the pictures in the hotel copied to hang on the walls and also the colonial furniture faithfully copied by a friend who was a carpenter - he carefully recreated a smaller version of the hotel.  And into 'her' room, he put all the best pieces of furniture and added air conditioning !

"It's taken two years to build and in a week it'll be inaugurated and 'she' will be the guest of honour, he said proudly.  "She's flying out from Switzerland and will spend 3 days at the hotel and then come to my house.

"I'm not rich, but I'm rich in life....because I have a wife and three daughters, a home, a town and a job at the best hotel in town, I love them all"......and then he added:

"But there's one picture in the new house which isn't a copy from the hotel - I commissioned a large oil painting of my Ambassador Motor Car !!"   With that he gave a joyful chuckle !

TEA

"'Junis' - it's a Biblical name......  I enjoy my work as a Guide - I grew up in Munnar - our family has been here for 5 generations and I have lived here all my life.  My great grandparents, grandparents and parents,  all worked on the tea plantations, picking tea.  But it's not for me.  The work is hard - 8 hours a day, barefoot.  They used to handpick the tea, but now it's done with shears.  But no - not for me - I want to do different things with my life."  He took out his digital camera to snap the panarama and said that he would download it onto his computer later.   "Every time the light changes, you get a different view"!

"They pick tea every 10 - 15 days and the bush is productive for 100 years - nothing eats the leaf because of its bitter taste and they prune the bush every 5 years.  Everything that you see is about 70 years old".

He was able to identify every medicinal herb along the way with its correct botanical name - confirming Kerala's reputation of having the highest rate of literacy in India !   

GANESH IN THE GARDEN CITY - BANGALORE

VICTORIAN BANGALORE

Holy Trinity Church (1851) near Trinity Circle on Mahatma Gandhi Street, in Bangalore, looked like any other English Parish Church, but this one had some how come down to land in India.  It faced East, like all English Parish Churches and the original nineteenth century bell is still rung every Sunday just as it always has.

The Eastern end of the church has an 'Angel Hammer Beam Roof', which must have reminded its English Congregation of some of the finest parish churches back in England.  Sitting in the polished wooden pews, gave a sense of another time in the distant past and one could almost hear the strains of the pipe organ, playing a familiar hymn.  The commemorative slabs around the walls told the story of the men of the British Regiments, who had worshipped in the Church two centuries ago - some had succumbed to cholera, some to battle wounds but the last tablet on the left wall, caught the eye - this gentleman must have been a member of the Regiment carrying out the first geographical survey of India - this necessitated going through unchartered territory in the relentless pursuit of measurement, sometimes with dire consequences !

BANGALORE - I.T. vs HEROIC NATURE

Silicon Valley it might be, but the real wonder of this city, is LalBagh Gardens.  This was Nature putting man in his place.

The giant Tamarind Tree seemed to stretch up into the clouds, it was so tall.  "This is where your 'Worcester Sauce' comes from" Vijay, our guide, informed us.  That tree commanded respect.... after all, a bottle of 'Worcester Sauce' on the breakfast table, no matter what country you were in, imbued the table with Englishness, with home and security, everything in its rightful place, of parents and grandparents and the continuity of lineage and all that is unchanging and best.

With its massive trunk and branches, the huge Candle Tree manages with rugged dexterity, to produce delicate white flowers, which bloom right out of its woody bark, as if by magic.  The Redwood Tree pods are so hard and strong, that only a fire could break them apart to reveal their inner secret, a perfect container,  with an individual compartment for each of its 3 smooth, shiny seeds, cushioned in the softest down, hidden from gaze, until only the most extreme conditions could crack the pod and allow germination to take place.

Fronds hanging in delicate, fragile, vertical wisps, - the Weeping Chinese Cypress, suggested the melancholy trees, wrapped in mist,  in a Chinese scroll painting and then the antidote, the Colville Wonder Tree, with its bright orange blooms, hanging in heavy exotic bunches - a riot of indulgence !

The tall, straight, heroic Talipot Palm, 75 years old and in fruit only once in a lifetime, would die afterwards - a kind of Botanical tragedy.  And the overwhelming Palmyra Palm, providing writing material for all the ancient scriptural texts  and ayurvedic documents from centuries ago - the nature of its palm leaf fibre led man to develop cursive script, because straight lines would cause the leaf to tear !

The wonder of this Garden of Eden !

HISS AND SLAP

I listened to the rhythmic slap of clothing being washed by hand, on the one side and on the other, the loud hiss of a pressure cooker, as food for the day was being prepared in the house next door.  These sounds are as much a part of the morning, as the 'barrow boy',  from the vegetable market, calling out, to advertise his produce.  The pressure cooker is a very important part of every Indian household and some kitchens have as many as six !  In fact most Indian homes don't have an oven, because baking is simply not a part of the routine.

During a recent cooking demonstration by a local baker, who prides herself on providing such Western treats as muffins, scones and chocolate brownies, she began by explaining to her audience of young Indian women, that she would be demonstrating the making of 'pastry'.  With great emphasis on keeping everything very cold, from hands to utensils,  her dough was finally ready, and passed round so everyone could feel its plasticity - she went on to explain that you pricked the pastry before baking and then baked it 'blind' - much to the incredulity of the young women in the audience, who had never ever made pastry.  Looking at it through their eyes, it did seem very complicated.

Other culinary challenges in India, are cooking without eggs, trying to beat thin cream into stiff peaks, cooking with sugar whose crystals are far too large and chocolate, which has a high wax content to stop it from melting in the hot Indian climate !  Of course gelatin, made from animal hoof, is also banned, which means that jellies don't set !  'When in Rome......'  I concluded that it was much easier to just buy a pressure cooker and become vegetarian !

FULL MOON DAY

It was the Hindu festival of Raksha Bandhan, when a Rakhi (sacred thread) is given by a sister to her brother, signifying the bond of protection and kinship between them - but there is also a delightful story taken from the epic Mahabharat that Draupadi, wife of the Pandavas, tore off a strip from her sari to tie round the wrist of Krishna, to stem the flow of blood, when he was injured in battle, he never forgot her act of kindness and remembered her all his life.  And so it can represent a wider bond.

The workers at the local fine dining restaurant lined up respectfully, as the owner and her delegation moved around from each one to the next tying the Rakhi thread and wishing them good luck, a tika was rubbed onto the forehead and a sweet given to each.  This was a chinese food restaurant and the image of Buddha looked down inscrutably on the proceedings.  Were they given the day off?  Of course not, business as usual !  

A TIN OF SARDINES

The Bengali love of fish is well known - even when they are eating chicken, they try to imagine that it is fish....a Bengali is fairly easy to spot - they have round faces, round eyes and a glowing skin - no doubt helped by their preferred diet of oily fish.

So it was no surprise to hear my Bengali friend talking endlessly about the restaurants he visited.  But one day, he told me a story which was both surprising and touching.  His elderly father was in hospital and very poorly, nobody expected him to survive.  Hearing about this, one of his clients gave him a gift for his father -  a tin of sardines !  My friend recounted this with eyes growing ever rounder....."do you know"  he said  "you don't have to prepare that fish, you simply open the tin and eat the contents straight away !" He'd reached the age of 42 and didn't know about tinned fish!  Needless to say, his father immediately perked up, as you would expect after such a meal !

The pleasure that a tin of sardines brought to a dying man, has transformed my attitude to this maligned fish.  I have now introduced my Bengali friend to the delights of tinned tuna and anchovy paste !!

BEHOLD ! (Italy - Summer)

LUCKY'S

 Lucky's was a popular cafe - packed out whatever the time of day.  But this innocuous sounding corner cafe had some surprises up its sleeve !  "We call it Kabaron Wali Dukan"  Jinesh explained - it means 'Shop with tombs' !  Sure enough there were as many tombs as there were tables and chairs - some of the coffins were covered with decorated cloths.  To add to this intriguing setting a giant Neem Tree grew at an angle through the cafe, exiting through the roof !

This was M.F. Husein's (India's Picasso) favourite cafe - so much so that he painted a picture especially for the place - although M.F. Husein's paintings are displayed in museums around the world, this one is unattended and hangs on a simple wall amongst the clutter....

As we drank our chai and ate our maskabun (a bun with a thick coating of white butter) and looked at the tombs around us, I couldn't help musing on whether this was possibly an ideal final resting place - in amongst the hubbub and clatter of the chai swilling crowd with an original painting by an Old Master overhead !

STREET FOOD

Another scorchingly hot day and the dust seemed inches thick, coating my flat shoes in a thin layer of grey.  The coconut stand stood in the shade of a dusty tree, the green coconuts stacked up row upon row.  To my surprise, when I asked for a coconut drink, the stall owner lifted the coconut out from a bath of water - a very clever way of cooling it.  Lopping off the top with a huge knife, he put a straw into the small hole and handed it to me.  The coconut juice was refreshingly cold - one of summer's little compensations and more thirst quenching than a coke or fanta.


Street food is a part of the urban landscape.  Carts on wheels are quickly set up at around 6 p.m., cheap artificial lights cast their bright blue-white light over the impromptu 'restaurant' and people pull-up in their cars, scooters or bikes and stand round in sociable groups, eating the quickly prepared Chaat -  crisp pancakes with various masala toppings and chutney or Bhel Puri - a puffed rice with 'sev' mixed with chopped onions, tomatoes, boiled potatoes, green chilies and coriander - Pani Poori is made of  little crisp puffs made out of flour and filled with mashed potato, onion, etc. and then filled with spicy water or Pav Bhaji - a bread roll with potato and vegetarian filling!!  All these snacks are delicious and are served on a little paper saucer which you have to support with your hand to stop it from sagging.  Some of the street food vendors on the bigger arterial roads, provide tables and chairs and crowds of people sit out late into the night in family groups enjoying the 'al fresco' food.

By day there is a kind of hierarchy amongst this street fraternity -  from young boys operating the sugar cane press, which requires them to walk round and round turning a long pole, while the attached mangles squeeze and press out the sweet juice into glasses - to old men selling bananas, in what looks like a 'retirement job' - low in stress, but providing an interest.  Cash outlay for the entire stock is probably only 500rs and any leftovers are eaten for dinner!  

MOVIES

The line up of movies at our local cinema showed the usual list of Bollywood titles, but just out was the "Men in Black 3".  The cinema is an excellent way to beat the heat of summer in Gujarat - reclining seats and air conditioning - what could be better?

Chatting later to a friend in London, on the phone, I urged her to see 'Men in Black 3' - interestingly she replied: "...it's not out here yet" !  Here in India, we get to see certain Hollywood movies long before they are viewed in the West.  Seeing ''The Avengers"  with an Indian audience was quite an experience, shouts and clapping greeted every move the super heroes made, groans and gasps with every protracted duel with the baddies and huge gasp of relief when the foe was vanquished !!

A MEASURE OF CHANGE

Change at the supermarket cash till, is still offered in a mixture of rupees and toffees....occasionally, when I have dashed in quickly to buy something, not having eaten lunch, it's a relief to know that  at least I can eat my change !

Three years ago super markets were very basic offering cleaning products, pickles and spices and then there were the bins of basic food stuffs, rice and legumes with someone on standby to measure, weigh and price.  But as a sign of the astonishing progress India has made in the years from 2009, the supermarket shelves are a very revealing indicator of what is afoot.

I looked at the shelf which normally carries a few expensive imported food items for foreign clientele such as tinned peaches, olives and tabasco sauce.....now to my astonishment, there were three rows of shelves stocked with such unheard of items like tinned tuna, Nescafe gold top, Pringles Crisps, Schweppes Tonic, Schweppes Bitter Lemon and Nutella !   On TV much advertising has been devoted to this new fandangled western social convention of coffee drinking, with well known Bollywood stars drinking coffee with obvious enjoyment and savouring the aroma of the coffee beans.  Chai is being relegated to the lower classes who drink it in little cups on the side of the road from their local chai wallah.

Wandering on to the glass and crockery section, there was further evidence of change - gone are the items of plastic tableware which we had to put up with in the past - replaced by actual breakable china !  Previously, it was practically impossible to find dinner plates in anything but melamine !

The streets are being swept and I see more and more Indian women wearing western clothes.  Soon cows will be banished and I haven't seen a camel for months.  The last elephant walked past a year ago.  India's change from an agrarian economy to an industrial nation is happening with breathtaking speed !  What would Gandhiji have made of this ?  Anyway Gujarat is still a 'dry' State - we're all stone cold sober !

PODCAST - INDIAN SUMMER

ON THE GARDEN WALL

WELL I NEVER

The smell of plastic was overpowering, as was the line up of cheap shoes.  With little choice, I selected a pair......paid for them and took them home.  But no, they really wouldn't make the cut - back into the box they went and the next day I was back in the shoe shop.  "Madam we don't give refunds, but you can have a credit note valid for a month"

A week later I was passing the same shoe shop, when one of the 3 young assistants came running after me, "madam, madam please could you come into the shop?"  I wondered what this could be about and followed him.  "Madam, we are so sorry that you didn't like the shoes, so we have discussed it and agreed that we three are going to pay you out of our salaries at the end of the month - we'll share the cost amongst the three of us and refund you" !  I looked at the young man in front of me, his earnest face full of sincerity......in complete disbelief !  I looked at his two colleagues, who nodded in agreement - this was quite the most amazing act of generosity I had ever encountered in my life - I couldn't quite believe what I was hearing......and then I shook my head.........."no of course you mustn't do that, I can't accept that but thank you...."  

FINAL STUDENT ART EXHIBITION

I'd been invited to view the Final Year Art Exhibition - many years previously the annual show had caused a national controversy about freedom of expression, with a student being arrested and a senior academic leaving the campus.....for good !

The campus is a mirage of dappled sunlight with Banyon Trees providing a canopy overhead.  The studios for Painting are large and sprawling, as they interact with those of Sculpture, Photography and Print making.

The exhibits are manned by the students themselves, so they are readily available to discuss their work.  The subject matter is generally biographical - most students of a certain age are wrapped up in themselves and their place in the world and perhaps their favourite vehicle for expression is through Surrealism (an early 20th century art movement, invented in France).  Some of the work dealt with the theme of 'litter' and some with the environment, expressing concern over India becoming an industrialised nation and moving away from the agrarian ideal of Gandhiji.  But this was a safe show - nothing remotely controversial here.

It's disappointing that there is no platform for really experimental ideas any more.  Art, like everything else, is a commodity with a price tag, so it must conform, it must be salable.  Students demand disproportionately high prices for their work.  It is strange that in a student show such as this, there is no reference to the great tradition of Indian painting.  One struggles to find a connection to the fabulous illustrative techniques of the Moghuls, or the contemplative art of Ajanta, or the vibrant decoration of Mudubhani art, or the sensuousness of Khajuraho.

A senior Indian artist once commented to me that most people are bent on survival and only have time to look at the peacocks in life.  Perhaps that is the matter with art - unless it is in the style of a famous international art movement, it isn't worth pursuing .....?

GREEN TECHNOLOGY OR ANOTHER USE FOR A BICYCLE ?

THAT TIME OF YEAR

They were holding a puja (prayer session) in the adjacent road - plastic chairs were grouped in rows, under an awning, in the heat of the midday sun.  The sound of their chanting wafted across, as it rose and fell, in an endless monotony of enveloping sound.  I hoped the rewards for this sacrifice, would be immense for all the participants.

The heat is unbearable - every day the mercury rises up through the 40s C and you move from one AC to the next or alternatively from one overhead fan to the next.  The climate strips you of all artifice - hair has to be swept back into a pony tail, whether it suits you or not, make-up melts, so there is no point in wearing it - lipstick has to be kept in the fridge.  Jewelry has ro be removed, it burns rather than decorates.  This includes the wrist watch which causes an unsightly rash as the heat and sweat combine with the leather to cause an allergy.  

Recumbent forms are draped over every horizontal surface as people choose to sleep through the heat of the day.  Cows lie down in whatever shade they can find.  And women walk slowly with their saris pulled over their heads, hiding their faces.  In a couple of months the monsoon will come.

SCIENTIFIC BRUSHING

"We start with 'scientific brushing'".....she said.  I was immediately interested....this was a lesson in Indian Head Massage and I was about to learn something fundamental to the art......she picked up the brush and began brushing my hair back from my face - this continued for a few minutes.  It dawned on me that this simple every day action, was being given a special significance just through the way it was presented "

She then rubbed some geranium oil on her hands - this is a pungent, aromatic oil - she closed her eyes momentarily - "you see there is an outer energy and we are all part of it - this fragrance should relax you"  She went on to explain that she wouldn't rub the oil directly into my hair, as that made such a mess but a suggestion of it would linger.....more illusion I thought.  Interestingly, they use a number of oils, including sandalwood, which is very expensive, but never lavender oil which is not considered Indian - it's seen as essentially from Europe.

The massage continued and afterwards as I wafted out of the salon on a cloud of geranium oil, I reflected on the experience as being essentially Indian, in its illusory nature - it is what it is, it's what you make it.  You can't really pin it down in a series of sub titles, after all how can you define the energy of a moment of bliss.

"....dappled things..."

The words of Gerard Manley Hopkins' poem ran through my mind......the mutable in the presence of the immutable....

FAKE

The paper might be old, but with its scattering of gold, I doubt it,  the official stamp, "Jaypoor Government Stamp, one rupee", is fake and the flower motif was painted recently.  These decorative sheets are sold on the street as genuinely old  pieces, with a suitably impressive price tag !  

FASTING LUNCH

"Join me for a fasting lunch", she said - "it's Chaitra Navratri" - this festival is in honour of Shakti or Durga and requires nine days of fasting.  Spicy food, garlic and onions are avoided, sago, curd and potatoes are permitted.  Nothing is eaten for breakfast or dinner.  It seemed extreme and I secretly wondered if she wasn't tempted to cheat a bit.  Surprisingly, my gift of a box of Kaju Bafi sweets made with edible silver was on the list of 'do's' rather than don't s.

Apart from the religious connotations to do with good behaviour, pujas and prayers for a fruitful financial year, it is scientifically good for the health, prior to the heat of the long summer season - several kilos would be lost over 9 days and the digestive system is given a complete rest as the seasons change.  I found myself marveling at the handing over of power for self-determination, to an external Hindu system of belief.  Hinduism is not a religion, it is a way of life, an Indian friend explained to me - it requires a sacrifice of the self for a group identity.  No matter how long an Indian lives outside of India, on returning to India, they become Indian.   Even though my friend had lived in Florida in the US. for many years, she had slipped back into her Indian identity immediately on her return and adhered to all the traditions unequivocally !

HEADSTRONG

WHERE HAVE ALL THE CAMELS GONE ?

Camels, the 'Ships of the Desert',  their movements undulate as they make their way round a traffic circle in town, pulling a farmer and his cart behind, so tall that as we navigate the traffic together, we have to crane our necks and look upwards to see their stoical, inscrutable expressions, high above us.  But that was last year.  We don't see camels any more in town and there are less cows.  Traffic has increased.  Dusty Old Padra Road has been converted into a 6 lane highway, almost over night.  The streets are cleaner and there are less plastic bags  around.  A few months ago, they started charging for plastic bags in all the big shops.  This policy has been applied across the board and it has become a kind of desirable status symbol.   'We charge for plastic bags' - it is said with pride.

The urbanisation of India is happening so quickly that it is breathtaking.  The old ways are being replaced by an unstoppable machine of progress.   What next ?  We seem to be moving from the 19th century to the 21st century without the intervening years !!

HOLI - 8TH MARCH

Happy Holi !  They had arrived on their motor bikes transformed by colour.  Last night bonfires were lit - old kites from the kite festival placed on top, branches of trees gathered together to form tepees - the old was torched, making way for the new.  Good triumphing over evil, spring following winter....and the day of Holi, when water pistols and powder paints rule the day - identity obliterated - a day of joyful renewal !

RHYTHM OF LIFE

The tenth century temple sculptures were a riot of energy - coming face to face, as you circumnavigate the pyramidal structures in a clockwise direction for good luck, with....warring soldiers, warring elephants, hunting, daily life and lust...  Not an inch of the towering walls was left without decoration, in a dizzying display of every aspect of life in all its sheer energy - India, as much then, as it is now.....a seething mass of humanity with the focus on living and surviving every minute.  This was a celebration of life on earth - reminding me of  'The Garden of Earthly Delights' by Hironymus Bosch, painted about 400 years later, but without the consequence of a fall from grace !

The temples are one of India's chief tourist attractions and the tourists seem to out-number the local population by at least five to one.  Being a World Heritage Site, the temples are now set in the midst of manicured lawns with paths for easy access - it's difficult to imagine that centuries ago they would have been a part of the arid natural terrain.

IN THE TEMPLE GARDEN

Faintly in the air I could hear 'Lakme' by Delibes - but it could have been my imagination......

MAN WITH A PINK PAGRI

I noticed him immediately - tall... refined features....standing waiting at the baggage carousel at Delhi Airport.....but what was most eye-catching about him, was what he was wearing.....his crisp pink shirt was set off by a deeper pink turban (pagri).  This sikh stood out from the crowd - nobility etched in every crisp fold.

Although blue, black, saffron and white are the predominant colours for the turban - white for peace, saffron for rallies, etc., colours can simply refer to a time of year - pink for spring !  The turban is 6m long and is manually tied, but can be lifted off the head like a hat and I have noticed what distinction they confer - a man who has taken off his turban loses inches in height, both metaphorically as well as physically.

I imagined a new painting for Titian - instead of 'Man with a blue sleeve' - this would be 'Man with a pink pagri'   

POTS

The clay pots were stacked at the side of the road in an unruly heap - they are used for holding water, especially for villagers who go to the well to draw their daily water supplies.  They've been made in the same way ever since India began and keep water cool because of the process of slow evaporation through the surface.  Decoration is kept to a minimum - a wavy line - perhaps indicating their watery function  But I was puzzled by the pot painted yellow - presumably the layer of paint would stop evaporation - so was this pot then a thing of beauty ?  Strangely, these pots are not beautiful - their crudeness relegates them to the merely functional.

ABUNDANCE

The sheer opulence of the display never fails to amaze me.  It seems that nothing is ever in half measures - there can be no doubt that this is the grape harvest - after the winter,  'Mother India' has given us grapes, to replenish our sugar reserves and prepare us for the searing heat of summer.

ROLLING OUT THE FLORAL CARPET IN INDIA

SLIP SLOP CULTURE

She was wearing slip-slops - I noticed this with complete astonishment !  This was a flight from London to India, from winter to winter....one has a preconceived image of an Air Hostess, from their tightly pulled back hair, to their pencil slim skirts and no nonsense high heel court shoes, so the casualness of this footwear in the context of an international flight was 'shocking'.  But I reasoned idly, while listening to the usual pre-take-off blurb, that in fact everyone wears slip-slops in India, rain or shine, winter or summer, daytime or evening, casual or smart, it is the standard footwear for every Indian.  It is also the first thing they look at when meeting you for the first time - it would seem that for them, the soul is in the feet, rather than the eyes.  I've also noticed that they don't suffer from the usual foot problems that we have in the west.

Ferragamo, in Italy is credited with democratising shoes, which previously had been the preserve of the privileged class.  He made fashion shoes for the masses and started a footwear revolution.  Shoes have been a symbol for class struggle or political statement, in many countries and seem to define you, like no other bar code.

ELECTRIC CITY.....!

"Madam wait !"  Ramesh, the watchman, came running out to meet me, as I walked up the driveway of the luxury apartment block.  He was immensely thin and tall and was the major domus of the building,  responsible for cleaning, gardening and guarding - I would hear him with his stick at night, chasing away stray dogs and during the day, vagrant monkeys.   He and his wife slept on an iron bed in an empty parking bay, in the undercroft of the building.  But now he held out a printed sheet of A4.

"It's from Electric City" he said, bristling with importance - I was mystified - this sounded like some sort of space station.  I scrutinised the page - there were dates, consumption units and totals, with one final figure, hand-written with a flourish.   "It's normal" - he added, as I continued to scan the page....then it dawned on me that this was the monthly electricity bill from the corporation.  Electricity is very expensive in India and meters are sometimes found to be faulty, running more quickly than they should so you can pay to have them checked.  Anyone running their air conditioning units on a regular basis has to pay the consequences.  

But the image of an 'Electric City' stayed with me - I felt privileged to be a customer of this magical place and happy to contribute towards their profits.  "Yes, Ramesh, I'll pay it immediately !" I said.....