Grade 5

God, I love 5th graders! They’re like raw guavas and skinned knees and wet swimsuits and squeaky voices and hot chocolate fudge and Akon and tight hugs and fake burps and real farts all served up at once.

We had 31 of them over for camp at Infinite Souls recently and… well, I lost my voice. Seriously, by Day 2, it was gone. I can pin point the exact moment when it departed – it was 3.45 am, Feb 21st.

I was fast asleep by 11.30 pm having exhausted myself begging kids to get into their tents and hit the sack for we had a 6 am trek the next day. Deep in some wayward dream I heard a huge, piercing scream and rushed out, hair awry and eyes frenzied, only to find all 31 wandering about in Superman pajamas, flashing torches like fireflies and saying “Varun did it, Varun did it” like 30 stuck records. Said Varun kept it up with a contrapuntal “I didn’t, I didn’t”. Turns out they had been awake all the while, the little devils, while innocent I lay asleep and dreaming. Then apparently Varun tripped over a tent cable and fell on one of the girl tents and Vanchika screamed like a banshee and then they all fell to bustling about like 4-foot tall busybodies. Long and the short of it…I lost my voice. It could be terror or else acute laryngitis.

I shone my pathetic Motorola phone light into Varun’s tent balefully, hoping the sight of me would cause the inmates to cower in fright. I opened my mouth to yell at them and here’s what came out “W..gr..h…f..grrr….t.” So they giggled and said, “What’s happened to your voice?” and that was the end of that.

They’re indescribable, this bunch. Like a mouthful of pop-rock; pop-blitz-crackle-spark. Driving you craaaa-zy and then making you collapse laughing. Somewhere in that dreamy liminal space between babies and stroppy teenagers.

Here are 10 wonderful moments from this camp:

1. Watching them play with Bamboo and Mushroom, delighted that the dogs would climb the hill with them.

2. The rounds of fake coughing. It started with one real cough at about 1 am and then continued from tent to tent; a good 30 mins of fake coughing.

3. All of them worrying about not having brushed their teeth before setting off on a trek. “Then how can we drink water on the trek?”

4. The boys rapping “Don’t trust a halli, never trust a halli” and “Meet me at the MTR”

5. One of the boys crying because someone said, as he lay in his sleeping bag in his tent “You look dead, dude”.

6. Shiv telling me his dog’s name is Cosmic Energy, “But we call him C.E.”

7. Watching them try Burma Bridge, try Tyre Wall, try Zip Line – nervous, worried, agrophobic – but not about to let it show too obviously

8. The two bodyguards (one of the children is from a political family) telling Vineeth that they were scared of wildlife and snakes

9. Arya telling me Vineeth’s scary ghost story during the trek with others filling in details

10. Watching them discover that someone had squirted them with Dabur Red toothpaste in the night. Oh, the fury!

11. The incessant questions about food. “What’s for lunch?” soon after they’d eaten breakfast.

12. Watching them try archery and see their hands afraid to let go of the arrow.

13. Their delight at the meal they cooked for us by themselves - wow

14. All of them exhausted and asleep by 9 pm the second night.

15. The moment when they say goodbye and they hug and dog pile you to the ground.

Oh, that’s more than 10…never mind.

Angelica

I knew Angelica only briefly, but quite indelibly. Theatre is a wild and intimate thing that enchants you into thinking you know the heart of a stranger. She wafted, fairy-like - open, soft - across to us from thousands of miles away. Her native, as we say in Karnataka, being Santiago, Chile. Perhaps I should call her the Water Fairy Oolong or the Shui Xian? For Angelica loved tea. The tea pluckers, tea ceremony, tea-houses…she traveled far and wide to learn more about this plant and brew and social ceremony. But on her Facebook page she describes herself as Siri Mukta Kaur… And there is a picture of Tripura Sundari low down on her page! Ha! What worlds might she have visited?

She was a performance artist with a thing for tea…

Tea is the agricultural product of the leaves, leaf buds, and internodes of the Camellia sinensis plant, prepared and cured by various methods. “Tea” also refers to the aromatic beverage prepared from the cured leaves by combination with hot or boiling water, and is the common name for the Camellia sinensis plant itself. After water, tea is the most widely-consumed beverage in the world. It has a cooling, slightly bitter, astringent flavour which many enjoy.

Tea was, after all, part of the Ay Ombe Theatre tradition. Like fasting and samba and early morning silent meditations. Many a time, I came on one or the other of them drinking tea in Josefina’s room. Brew, pour, sip, talk.

Around the small rehearsal space Angelica paced, making it her own. Watching intently, as Radha Sullur drew Chitaara and Rangoli on the floor. Painting mandalas using powdered laterite that has remained, as is, on the floor today. She made a tea ceremony for us, patient, as it grew dark and we were lit with only a single lantern beneath the thatch. Then she swept a pile of tea dust, that she bought from the Vardenahalli chai kade, onto a pan and sprinkled it in a ring around the space. She left her hand-prints on the floor.

Angelica is a genus of about 60 species of tall biennial and perennial herbs in the family Apiaceae, native to temperate and subarctic regions of the Northern Hemisphere, reaching as far North as Iceland and Lapland. They grow to 1-3 m tall, with large bipinnate leaves and large compound umbels of white or greenish-white flowers. Some species can be found in Purple Moor and Rush Pastures.

On Febryary 27th 2010, Chile was struck by an earthquake measuring 8.8 on the Richter Scale. The epicentre was near Conćepcion. This quake is said to have changed the earth’s axis and rotational speed thus shortening our days by 1.26 microseconds. It was followed by a tsunami alert. All this was reported in tiny news items buried somewhere in the Bangalore newspapers.

Maria Angelica Perez Germain was on Juan Fernandez Island with her boyfriend when the wave struck. Her boyfriend was found, but her friends and family are still looking for her.

Remember Valparaiso?

On Drinking Tea Alone...


In my own hands I hold a bowl of tea;


I see all of nature represented in its green color.


Closing my eyes I find green mountains and pure water within my own heart.


Silently sitting alone and drinking tea, I feel these become part of me.


On Drinking Tea With Friends...


What is the most wonderful thing for people


like myself who follow the Way of Tea? My answer:


The oneness of host and guest,


created through 'meeting heart to heart',


and sharing a bowl of tea.


- by Soshitsu Sen, Grand Master XIV, Urasenke School of Tea


http://stephcupoftea.blogspot.com/2009/04/some-of-my-favorite-tea-poetry.html


http://artandtea.wordpress.com/

Seeds: Malnad Mela

When we were children and summer meant our grandmother’s rambling, musty home in Adyar, the best quiet-time game of all was The Tamarind Seed game. When the rest of the house shut the green wooden shades against the afternoon heat and slept, us cousins would lounge on the bougainvillea-clad verandah and play Tamarind Seed game. Other seeds figured in our lives as well – pumpkin, bitter gourd, ridge gourd were all carefully collected and laid out to dry in the sun on the terrace. One Rudrakshi seed sat on the back of my mother’s brass tortoise. Tulsi seeds were used in kashayams. Kanakambara seeds were collected, as were lilly seeds, balsam seeds, Bachelor’s Button seeds. In fact my grandmother, Jaya Kumar, was a veritable clearinghouse of every variety of flower, vegetable and fruit seed that grew in her garden.

Decades later, when Konarak and I began farming, we were delighted to get most of our seeds from our neighbours; huruli, avare, halsande and togri. It felt like they were giving us more than just seeds. A glimpse into their kitchens and the kattu saarus and avarekai hulis of yore.

And so life ought to continue, plodding on gently, vis-à-vis seeds and their perpetuation. Except, we’re not in Kansas anymore. A quite insidious (because they come to us in the name of development, poverty-eradication and change) adversary has entered our world - genetically modified and branded seeds.

There are two fundamental issues at stake – the first has to do with the nature of genetic modification. And the second has to do with ownership and Intellectual Property Rights. Genetic modification, very simply, involves the addition or deletion of certain genes from a species. This can happen in nature when exogenous DNA penetrates the cell membrane usually for reasons of evolutionary logic. For instance, the mammalian immune system which is geared to modify so as to protect the body from an infinite array of antigens. Unfortunately, capitalism is not quite as benign. So when a tomato is genetically modified to ripen without softening, it is done so to increase shelf life, storage possibility and eventually profits. Sounds good, except that artificial genetic engineering hasn’t had the benefit of millions of years of testing and fine tuning and can have unpredictable and unrepeatable results with unstable transgenic lines. And rest assured no one will talk about the human and fiscal costs involved (think BT Cotton) while plugging it to poor farmers in India.

Finally, to me the biggie is the issue of ownership and community. Why the hell would we give up our birthright to free and unconditional use of a vegetable (brinjal) or a medicial herb (neem) or a spice (turmeric) and begin paying a for-profit company for the right to plant or use it? Where is the logic in that? In Magadi, during the ragi harvest, it’s impossible to get labour on our farm because every hand is needed for work on their own farms. Men, women and children of the family all have unique roles in the harvesting process and rightly so. I heard that in Ladakh the most important man in the village is the one who shares the common water source, moving a dam here, shifting a tributary there so as to facilitate equitable distribution. Water-sharing was traditionally a part of our farming culture as is seed-sharing. So why walk into the trap of dependancy and that too for the profits of some anonymous and gigantic company?

Enter resistance; what a beautiful notion!

In the lush Malenad region, on a farm in Sirsi, lives my old, dear friend Sunita Rao. She is an environmental educator having made the trek from pure science to farming a while ago. In 2001 she started the Malnad Forest Garden and Seed Keepers’ collective as a network of seed exchange groups focused on celebrating and endorsing biodiversity. This activity further developed into Vanastree (Women of the Forest), a collective that promotes forest garden biodiversity and food security through the conservation of traditional seeds.

A legend on their website reads -

A few small seeds have the power within them to feed a family; a fistful of seeds, the whole community. Our future depends on saving the traditional diversity of seeds around us.

This last weekend I attended Malnad Mela organized by Vanastree. Suddenly, in the mall-peppered mindscape of Bangalore, a colourful and diverse exhibition and sale of seeds, home-made produce and patchwork godhdis. It was so lovely that in minutes I had 8 containers of citronella/beeswax insect repellent, pudina and vilva pathra tambuli podi (to mix into curd or buttermilk on a hot summer day), Kai Holige, Malnad pickles, organic turmeric, vanilla bean (that I shall turn into crème brulee), pure apricot oil, wild honey, amla jam, organic cashew nuts and lemon pickle. And all of this for about Rs 1,500/-. Further, the sales from Malnad Mela will go towards nurturing traditional skills, sustaining livelihoods and upholding the idea of community. It blows my mind. It really does only take a spark…

I am drinking a delicious kashyam right now that Manorama Joshi of Vanastree said was good for laryngitis. It cost Rs 40/- for 50 gms as against a bottle of a common cough syrup (not suitable for children, don’t drink and drive) that costs Rs 57/-. The former is soothing and believable, the latter makes one feel like a drowsy elephant coming down off a very bad trip. I mean, seriously, consider the options!

Malnad Mela has been coming to Bangalore, to the home of another old school friend, Mala Dhawan, for the past 3 years and has had tremendous response. Sunita said they had many new faces visit this year and very many children. I have no doubt the idea will spread like wildfire because it’s beauty lies in it’s simplicity. It doesn’t require sponsorship or big funds to start a seed bank, to share seeds, to downsize, to resist. It’s the David and Goliath story, ya’ll.

Small is simply sweeter.

http://www.vanastree.org/

http://www.greenpeace.org/india/campaigns/say-no-to-genetic-engineering/ge-crops-in-india-the-story

http://business.rediff.com/slide-show/2010/jan/27/slide-show-1-all-about-bt-brinjal.htm

Michel

If someone were to say that you could lie on a mat, watch yourself BE (yeah, man, be!) and move a little less than your maximum ability and that this would actually be good for your body, you’d call them a liar, right? Right??!!

Hmmmm…

If there’s one thing I know, there is a time and a place and you can’t drag a horse to the water. What am I talking about? Well, how many people do you know who moan about stress and aches and insomnia, ya? But when the opportunity is in front of them, dancing topless on a table, how many of them actually grab it? Very, very few. For instance, I told my aunt who suffers from spondylitis about the Feldenkrais Workshop at Infinite Souls and she said “Kirtu, I get spondylitis just by driving out there. And right now, touch wood, I’m ok, so I don’t need it.” Go figure. What I probably should have said is that Feldenkrais is a long-term cure for more than just the spine.

But as it turned out, on Day 1 of the Feldenkrais Experience, Michel Casanovas had 13 willing learners, including Vaneeta and Joseph from last year. And by Day 3, we had swelled to 16.

There are some people I know who belong to a certain monk-hood. Let’s call it the Brotherhood of Body & Soul. They practice austerity as easily as hedonism. And are in constant pursuit of that thing called truth or self or the perfect thin crust pizza; the rest be damned. Michel Casanovas, is one such monk. He’d wake up early, work long hours, be infinitely patient and generous with his instruction and then sit alone on the verandah with a cold beer watching the sunset over the hill.

He’s a gypsy and travels very light – a couple t-shirts, a sheet – essentially no material possessions. He likes sleeping outdoors and both times he has been at Infinite Souls, he opted to sleep beneath the thatch in the rehearsal space. It’s a little crazy actually because it’s so cold outdoors in January, but Michel goes for it. Like Konarak and I, he takes his shoes off before he climb the rocks and this time he got the rest to do the same so they could feel that intense energy underfoot.

As I went down to the Rehearsal Space at 6.30 am on the last day, I saw Michel seated on a mat draped in an orange dupatta, quiet in the early morning fog. 14 other bodies settled on mats around him and he began an Awareness Through Movement (ATM)* session “Take a few steps. Be aware…watch your self…”

Sont des mots qui vont très bien ensemble.

Michel.

Monk-nature.

Michel gives the most precise instructions, and in the simplest, most quiet tones. To appreciate this, one has to try giving a group of human beings a set of physical instructions that will be understood in exactly the same way by all of them. I know from experience with Theatre Lab…it’s a challenge, man! To know left from right, to induce a diagonal in someone else’s body, to get us to move… Direction Sky.

Très bien ensemble.

Check out Michel’s website (www.micha.in/)


* From www.feldenkrais.com/ The Feldenkrais Method is expressed in two parallel forms: Awareness Through Movement® and Functional Integration®.


Awareness Through Movement consists of verbally directed movement sequences presented primarily to groups. There are several hundred hours of Awareness Through Movement lessons. A lesson generally lasts from thirty to sixty minutes. Each lesson is usually organized around a particular function.


In Awareness Through Movement lessons, people engage in precisely structured movement explorations that involve thinking, sensing, moving, and imagining. Many are based on developmental movements and ordinary functional activities. Some are based on more abstract explorations of joint, muscle, and postural relationships. The lessons consist of comfortable, easy movements that gradually evolve into movements of greater range and complexity. There are hundreds of Awareness Through Movement lessons contained in the Feldenkrais Method that vary, for all levels of movement ability, from simple in structure and physical demand to more difficult lessons.


Awareness Through Movement lessons attempt to make one aware of his/her habitual neuromuscular patterns and rigidities and to expand options for new ways of moving while increasing sensitivity and improving efficiency.


A major goal of Awareness Through Movement is to learn how one’s most basic functions are organized. By experiencing the details of how one performs any action, the student has the opportunity to learn how to:


· attend to his/her whole self


· eliminate unnecessary energy expenditure


· mobilize his/her intentions into actions


· learn

Infinite Souls: Ashram, Auroville, Arunachala

You could say this particular journey began on Dec 31^st 2009 as we sighted the Blue Moon at Infinite Souls. You could also say it began 50 years ago with the onset of Paabi’s life-long enchantment with Sri Aurobindo’s Savitri. And that it was nurtured by the tales of Neel’s grandfather, Harindranath Chattopadhya, and Chandralekha watching a comet pass slowly the night that Ramana Maharshi attained Samadhi.

Whatever the genesis, it so transpired that on Jan 17^th 2010 we set off again, a rag-tag caravanserai, containing in all 9 adults, 2 babies and a puppy, on our annual pilgrimage to Pondicherry. Our daughter is a Pondy-baby and so finds herself transformed the minute she steps out on Rue Suffrein. She sheds all cares of school and exams and turns into a bare-foot waif with malli poo in her hair, faintly redolent of coconut oil.

But to return to the past for a moment…

What was it you gave us, Paabi, when you started us on this adventure? Is it just the one thing? Your love of car journeys? Or is it that you suggested we take the long route; the crazy, arduous, scenic route. And arrive late. (Stop for a nap on the stone verandah of Chandragiri Palace near Tirupathi, you told us, thus we serendipitously watched the parrots fly home) Or is it that you handed over your obsession with Savitri and trusted that we would make sense of that argument she had with Yama?

“And what are you?” Yama asks Savitri, “A dream of brief emotions, glittering thoughts, a sparkling ferment in life’s sunlit mire? Against the eternal witness, would you claim immortality? Only Death is eternal.”

Did you want us to challenge this? Is that why we drove to Goa for your birthday on February 19^th just 2 months before you would leave us on May 6^th 2006? Ostensibly to check out a colour lab where we could potentially colourize Samskara. We drank champagne and feni, ate at Valerio’s and Souza Lobo… Even at Longuinho’s Bar in Margao as if to stretch the feeling as long as possible…

But back to the present…

There was no room in the inn. Not in Pondy or Auroville, at least not in our usual haunts. So we called Shanthi (Paabi’s nephew) and he said “Come on over.” To all of us! And Mushroom – the Golden Retriever pup!! Easy and utterly hospitable, that’s Shanthi. He has a wonderful pack of dogs, tough-living Brandos to our blonde and booby Marilyn Mushroom. Boxers, Rottweillers and the newest addition - a Great Dane puppy called Thor. (He’s Danish, innit?!) One night the three of us stayed back at Shanthi’s farm. He made us coffee at 6 am before taking Zui out in his canoe for 2 hours on the lake.

It was lovely taking my parents and 4 year old Kai, to the Mother & Sri Aurobindo’s Samadhi. I’m sure Kai felt, as he witnessed the silence and the flowers, another aspect of his heritage. And subliminally got the magic of the moment. And knew that he and us and Paabi and our Savitri play and Shanthi were joined as clearly as in a game of Join the Dots.

I told Kai that Mirra Alfasa came to India and on seeing the young Aurobindo decided to stay on saying to her husband “I have seen in him the Krishna of my dreams.” He listened, wide eyed, as he's really into the Krishna stories that Amma tells him and likes that Krishna’s a naughty boy.

Warm nights at Satsanga, eating prawns and drinking cold beer… Debi drops by and we yearn to listen to him play.

When Konarak first came to Auroville some 35 odd years ago, when it was still all red mud and sans trees, when Matrimandir was still a dream, he stayed in Aurodam. Paabi and B.S.Achar showed up one time and were given a great time by Nadaka and others there. On this trip, Shanthi had a party one night and Taddy/Erissa the luthier and Bob who makes Mesa Boogie style amps came over to his farm.  And a surprise for my parents – Angath came by too - they were thrilled. And so it was that the next day we trudged off to Aurodam to visit Taddy & Bob and try a steel string acoustic and a little 7 watt amp.

It’s always inspiring to be at Auroville. If it’s not the pond at Afsanah, it could be the salads at Ripos, or the fact of the Solar Kitchen serving up 300 lunches and an additional 600 school meals, or chatting with Rauf Ali, or just looking at the interesting constructions… I dunno, but there’s never a dull moment. This time too, we met old friends and were re-charged. Quiet artistry. Homes tucked away, interesting with shells and beads and koi ponds and hammocks. The lushness of cashew and casuarina.

It’s been our thing to stop at Tiruvanamalai on the way back to Bangalore. Just to peep into Ramana Maharshi’s room and wonder at his simplicity or perhaps to check out the peacocks. And to eat a thali at Arunai Anantha. This time I also wanted Kai to see the samadhis of his deer and dog and crow and cow. Sweetness personified... I remember Ammama always had a picture of Ramana Maharshi and Sharada in her clinic.  More dots to join, Kai!

Our hill at Magadi may not have the austerity of Ramana’s Arunachala, but it makes us want to stare at it and be close to it nonetheless. Maybe it’s the nearby presence of Savandurga. Shiva at hand.

“Arunachala! Thou dost root out the ego of those who meditate on Thee in the heart, Oh Arunachala!

Arunachala! Thou dost root out the ego of those who dwell on their identity with Thee, Oh Arunachala!”

Why is it called Infinite Souls we’ve been asked. The truth is practical rather than profound. It was our email password for the longest time. Having said that, where is the nasha without the infinite brushes we’ve had with others? Friends, strangers, lovers. Time shared. Unexpected kindnesses. Warmth. Nurture. Journeying folks all. Infinite Souls.