Mud Ganesha, Rasam Water

Yesterday, when Madan said “The mall is Kai’s favourite place in the word”, Kai yelled “No! The farm is my favourite place!” That’s one for the farm :)

I feel I have to “take dhrishti” of the farm…spread my fingers around it, burn red chillies and broomsticks, "buzz the name of God a hundred times”* and pray fervently to Ganesha, who must love the bananas and tamarind and custard apples that so abound, and ask that nothing untoward happen to this blessed land. That no illegal miner cast their eyes on the hill, that no developer comes anywhere near…

But hope has a way of coming around. It’s crazy how some people continue to sparkle, despite the mess of the Commonwealth Games, the anticipated hysteria over the Ayodhya verdict and the general pissing, spitting and corruption that is the state of affairs in India. And this time hope came around in the form of three men, Sumanth, Suresh and Jaishankar, who have started an NGO called VANAMITRA www.vanamitra.org

http://thealternative.in/articles/all-creatures-great-and-small

They specialize in wildlife rescue and awareness and their latest rescue has been of 3 leopard cubs that were handed back to the mother in 4 days flat thanks to aggressive searching by the VANAMITRA team. Totally beats having them stuck a zoo. We’re hoping to start a new series of workshops on wildlife awareness at Infinite Souls, which will be facilitated by VANAMITRA. So anyone who is interested, do get in touch.

But back to Ganesha. Don't you find the toxic painted Ganeshas abhorrent and aren't you shocked at how gigantic the community Ganeshas are growing? Almost as if they wish to challenge the Elephant God himself.

“Mine is bigger than yours.”

“See how great a Hindu I am, I have such a big one and it’s neon pink!”

“Mine is soooo big and I will make soooo much noise with my terrible PA system and faux-Hindu-Ganesha-disco-bhajans that you will be forced to either slash your wrists from despair or convert thanks to visual and auditory oppression.”

Etc

I long for the peace of a silent church or dargah.

Mooshika Vahana, Modaka hastha...

For Ganesh Chathurthi this year, Zui and Kai along with their grandfather made their very own Ganesha and Gowri. Nagamma collected some clay that they squished and messed around with. With mud up till their elbows and pleased as punch, they finally displayed 2 Ganeshas and a Gowri. Aala was the Master of Ceremonies. She got Nagaraj to decorate a space beneath the big Banyan tree. He made it beautiful and elephant-friendly with bunches of fresh tamarind leaves, hanging custard apples, young banana stems. Then we made kadabus on turmeric leaves and thus was spent our day.

Chamara karuna
Vilambitha sutra...

In the evening, we climbed up the hill to immerse Gowri and Ganesha in a rock pool. There we had a crisis, because the pool was a perfect biome, with tree-frog spawn, ferns, algae and tiny water plants, and Zui couldn’t bear to destroy this. And she was right, however ok the clay Ganesha and Gowri were, the accompanying kumkuma/haldi and karpura would definitely mess with this delicate pool.

Man, how do people live with zero carbon footprint? I'm so in awe.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/green-living-blog/2009/oct/28/live-without-money

All my attempts come to nought. In fact I should call this piece “Confessions of a Failed (but not lapsed) Green Activist”. By the time we came to the electricals, we couldn't afford the high price of solar lighting. My togri crop routinely get attacked, despite the chilli powder/neem oil spray. The peacocks love our no-pesticide tomatoes. Prudence still shits in the bedroom. My rainwater harvesting methods...hmmm...let's just say, they leave a lot to be desired.

On the expert advice of gardener Narasimha (who, one Christmas, spilt red enamel paint all over the hall making it more blood bath than Noel) I set about with pipes and buckets and filters to collect water off our really ancient roof with dried leaves strewn all over. End result: water the colour of rasam, redolent of rotting eucalyptus. It would be funny if it were not for my tragic attempts to explain the colour and odour to visitors who are shocked when they look in the commode or open a tap.

But we plod on. Let's see what happens to our cow shed/chicken coop efforts. Lord Ganesha, please be on our side. You did mess with our banana field after all.

...Vaamana roopa

Maheshwara Puthra

Sri Vigna Vinayaka

Paadha Namasthe

* Night of the Scorpion
I remember the night my mother was stung by a scorpion.
Ten hours of steady rain had driven him
to crawl beneath a sack of rice.
Parting with his poison - flash
of diabolic tail in the dark room -
he risked the rain again.
The peasants came like swarms of flies
and buzzed the name of God a hundred times
to paralyse the Evil One.
With candles and with lanterns
throwing giant scorpion shadows
on the mud-baked walls
they searched for him: he was not found.
They clicked their tongues.
With every movement that the scorpion made
his poison moved in Mother's blood, they said.
May he sit still, they said.
May the sins of your previous birth
be burned away tonight, they said.
May your suffering decrease
the misfortunes of your next birth, they said.
May the sum of all evil
balanced in this unreal world
against the sum of good
become diminished by your pain.
May the poison purify your flesh
of desire, and your spirit of ambition,
they said, and they sat around
on the floor with my mother in the centre,
the peace of understanding on each face.
More candles, more lanterns, more neighbours,
more insects, and the endless rain.
My mother twisted through and through,
groaning on a mat.
My father, sceptic, rationalist,
trying every curse and blessing,
powder, mixture, herb and hybrid.
He even poured a little paraffin
upon the bitten toe and put a match to it.
I watched the flame feeding on my mother.
I watched the holy man perform his rites
to tame the poison with an incantation.
After twenty hours
it lost its sting.
My mother only said
Thank God the scorpion picked on me
And spared my children.
 
- Nissim Ezekiel

Custard Apples

The first time we set eyes on the land, in March/April 2006, the light was perfect. The sun was about to dip and there was that dreamy blue haze that made everything fairy-like. The big Banyan was the Enchanted Tree, Moonface was around somewhere and the light rain could only be the work of Dame Washalot. And what were those tall-ish shrub-trees all over? OMG, they're custard apple trees! Another good omen, this is a sign. So we sat beneath the Tamarind tree and talked about the price with Hanumanthappa and gang. We quoted, they refuted and we agreed and so it was done.

Within a few months, we started getting ripe custard apples off the trees. What does one say about this fruit? Google it and you get nothing. Well, you do get a Wiki description - apparently it's called a bullock's heart, coeur de boeuf... How gross! How unsettling! That such a delicate piece of architecture, requiring both tongue and teeth to work in tandem should be named so. Oh well, new histories shall be created. Let it be known that the custard apple was Pattabhi Rama Reddy's favourite fruit. Let it be known that the botanical name that it goes by is Annona Reticulata. Lovely Annona. Distant cousin, surely, of Ananas. But in temperament, more Melanie than Scarlet. Let it be known that some make an ice cream from custard apples. Let it not be asked how they get the flesh off the seeds.

Oh horror! Elsewhere it is said that the custard apple is generally rated as the mediocre one, the "ugly duckling" of its species... Fie! What a ghastly lack of imagination.

Dig this. A hot afternoon and a perfect custard apple. Firm, not squishy and oh yes, ripe. You open it tenderly not wanting it to fall apart. Behold two halves. You are wearing shorts and a grey tank top. You sit on the steps and stare out wondering if there will be rain in the afternoon. You scoop one lovely section into your mouth. Slowly you seperate seed from flesh, swallow, spit the seeds as far as you can...and so it goes. By the time you've finished it, your mind has wandered past Woody Allen to Allen Shore, Boston Legal, Death by Chocolate at Corner House, swimming in the Bangalore Club pool, potato chips, warm legs, your grandmother, summer holidays, your first cycle, The Big Lebowski, sloth bears, why do people grow up, Ullyses, Mel Brooks...

Not a bad trip, no? So don't diss them custard apples. They're they stuff dreams are made of.

The Water Channels - Oct 6th 2009

I should have started doing this in 2006. Anyway...

We were at the farm yesterday and as always by the time we reach Taverekere, we're all anticipation. Have the trees grown? What's blooming? Is the cormorant by the pond? Are there mulberries on the fence shrubs? The weather has been lovely, particularly when there is an afternoon drizzle.

Once there, we went for our usual wander - Kuki, me and Bamboo. The fields near the cottage and rehearsal space looked red because of a tiny, pretty little grass flower that is in full bloom. We were walking along, checking the direction and course of water flow to see where to dig the channels leading to the (still imaginary) final check dam. It looks like we start near the gate and go alongside the west fence, through the bamboo and over the first stone check dam, past the banyan with the swing, past the banana grove on the left - till the nalla. Another channel that starts in the neighbbours field and that runs between the El will meet and feed this. So the two will fill the sandy low lying area just before we climb the ridge, to the right of the nalla. And this in turn will spill over into the nalla where we can dam the full flow. It's shady and pretty here because of a young Tamarind besides several other low hanging trees. Ooooh! Kuki's already got dreams of a Huckleberry type raft or dingy for the kids to play with.

The ivy has taken root on the S shaped loos near the large rehearsal space, so they should be covered in a couple months. And in the meanwhile the creeping roses are blooming in all manner of hot pink and red. We loaded the jeep with our Carvin PA so we can rehearse in town for a bit. We also loaded about 200Kg of late Yelakki bananas and some custard apples, leaving just enough space for Bamboo to get in and headed back to the city.