Being yourself

the heart of bombay

Bombay has grown, rapidly and uncontrolably. Not only has the population grown, the infrastructure and amenities have too. The city has become increasingly westernized with international brand names plastering every product industry -- from clothes to cars and of course, information technology. The entertainment industry is a unique blend of Bollywood (the Indian Hindi film industry) laced with amusement from the US. Bowling alleys, coffee shops, multiplex cinemas and malls abound. Mall hopping is common place entertainment enjoyed by all. Added to all of that is the theatre and music scene that has always been active; now topped with western artists.

All of these changes have made this, my home city, feel less and less like home. It has changed much and in a direction that is different from where I feel like I am headed. So, when I got to Bombay 4 days ago, I felt a little out of my skin. The contrast from being on the farm was a little too much to take. I wasn't however surprised when I felt right back in my groove as I began getting around the city, running errands. As I looked past the skin, I felt in beat with the heart of Bombay, once again.

Bombay has a beat all its own, unlike any other place in India. It moves fast, the people are efficient and professional. The 2 day recovery after the devasting floods this monsoon are testimony to the fast paced, quick to return to normal nature of this metropolis. It has a highly accurate train system and the best ranked bus transport in all of Asia. Of course, the city's dabbawalla (luncbox) service, a 6 sigma certified efficiency icon speaks best to all of this. The city is safe, even late at night. My just-turned-adult sister, who routinely travels after 10 pm can attest to this. This is however how it has always been -- I too traveled late in my early 20s and never batted an eye-lid about it. Then there is the attitude of Bombayites (or Mumbaikars, as they are now known -- a name I don't identify with because of its communal nature) move quick and help you move quick, they are willing to listen when you ask for something, even when you bargain. You can bargain pretty much everywhere, other than in restaurants and most of the time you will get your way -- yes, things being overly priced it what makes this possible, but every once in a while it is simply because people are reasonable. Bombayites love their city and fight to make sure it is the city they want it to be. The community beach cleaning and beachside promenades along the entire city coastline speak to this. They have big hearts. Those that can, give very generously. I bumped into a teacher who gathers a group of street kids every morning to teach them painting and other forms of self-expression. They meet on one of the city's beach promenades. Morning joggers smile and adjust to make space for the group of 8 kids and their teacher. Those that cannot give, however, struggle and work hard to survive in the most populated city of the world (at 12,778,721 per the 2005 census and ranking of the most populated cities in the world). Above all, I am most touched by the tremendous diversity and cosmopolitan nature of Bombay. It holds within its city limits, people from all Indian communities and non-Indians. It is routine to see foreigners walking the streets. That means a lot to me -- it speaks to the tolerant and accepting nature of the people of Bombay. 

All of these characteristics make the heart of Bombay and define its unique beat. It has been heartening to feel the city as I have always known it..

the perfect sunday morning

A gentle chill, warm sun, glistening leaves, swaying fields, smell of the earth, an unhurried pace and a piece of tamrind in my mouth -- a perfect sunday morning. We visited an award-winning farm in the area. It has an orange orchard and paddy fields. We walked amidst the 14 feet tall orange trees, touching fruit that will be ripe in another 6 weeks. We feasted on the not-so-ripe oranges, tamrind and custard apples. Some folks climbed the trees. My eyes caught a spider's web glisten in the warm morning sun. I filled my lungs with the village air and watched the 4 day old calf of a buffalo suckle away. As the morning wore on, 30+ local village women arrived to help harvest the paddy fields. The sound of their sickles hitting the crop stem mixed with their chatter filled the air. In less an 1/2 hour they had cleared away more than an acre. The morning moved along at an unhurried pace.

We settled in the shade of a Neem tree, broke a small branch and cleaned our teeth. As the bitter juices filled my mouth, I cringed but some unknown calm made me felt comforted. This is how generations of my forefathers had cleaned their teeth. Some little gene within my DNA knows this and it rose to accept the bitterness.

Two little girls chased each other around. The younger one (3.5 years old) sang away as she ran between the trees, "tingle bell, tingle bell ...". My heart warmed as she paused to see the little calf suckling away. I quietly realized that in terms of growth, they are both peers of each other :-). The family gathered to drink a fermented coconut drink and feast on the fresh treats made yesterday. Laughter and the casual banter of people that are comfortable with each other ensued. I paused to thank the "just right" nature of my life.

And, then, I silently declared that this had been the most perfect sunday morning for me this year! So far, anyway ...

everyday adventures

It is easy to think that excitement and adventure exists in places that are bustling, where lots seems to be happening and that places that move at a slower pace don't have much happening. Along these lines, I think we often imagine that more excitement and adventure exists in the cities and that not much happens in rural places. Being on the farm and living in a rural setting for almost 2 weeks now has taught me otherwise. I think adventure and excitement are the result of a state of mind, an attitude and less a result of the actual events. To me, the farm has been tremendously exciting.

Following the chic revival 2 days ago, we have had some more drama. Yesterday, one of the buffalo did not return at the end of the day. Every day as the sun sets, we go out looking for the cattle. For the most part they are close to the fenced area of the farm and promptly return as dusk sets in. Yesterday, the buffalo was nowhere to be found. Search parties went out but when there was no sign for over 2 hours, folks decided to take a break. What was surprising was that the buffalo was gone leaving behind its calf. This morning, the hunt resulted in finding the buffalo a few villages away. Apparently, it went off grazing on newly harvested paddy and got kicked off every farm that it invaded. This resulted in it following the railway line and ending up a few villages away. The local milk center for the group of villages located it when they didn't receive milk from our farm today and learnt that it was because the buffalo had gone missing. I love the low-tech, word-of-mouth search that resulted in the safe return of the buffalo.

Just as the buffalo returned to the farm, attention moved onto other animals, only to discover that the chicken had got chicken pox. I guess that is only appropriate :-). They have developed it around their eyes and beaks. Tumeric has been applied and they are being fed onions, the phosphorous from which should help with the healing.

I wonder what adventure lies ahead next ...

khana khazana (food treasure)

Over the years, I have come to realize that I am quite a food fan. I like eating good food, I love trying new cuisines/dishes and above all, I love to cook. If you had told me about that one when I was 17, I would have protested like every liberal teenage girl in India was doing then. Cooking has and is still dominantly a female activity and when I was growing up, I protested having to do it. Circumstances however forced me to start cooking at the age of 10. At age 18, I was thrown into a situation where I had to cook for 16 people for 4 days in the Himalayas. So, despite all my resistance I was introduced into the world of cooking. Once I got there, I stumbled, bumbled and slowly but surely learnt to do what I had watched my mother and grandmother do so well for years. Now, I have been teaching a cooking class for 1.5 years and have had many an Indian cooking session for non-Indian friends. Hard as it is to admit, I really enjoy cooking and won't spare a single opportunity to learn something new.

All of this came to the forefront yesterday as I was reflecting on how I tend to spend my time -- what I do when I have no pressure to do anything -- cooking was right at the top of the list. I was surprised then that despite the avid interest, I have no consistent mention of it on my blog. So, the new list on the left. It is my hope that it will serve as a place for me to share my new explorations with food and in return invite contributions from fellow food lovers.

abey baju hatt (hey, move aside)!

I just realized that I hadn't written about the most chaotic Indian phenomenon there is. Indian traffic is everywhere and its chaotic - everywhere!  So, what makes it so chaotic?

To begin with, the roads are at least 50% smaller than the traffic they serve. A "highway" in this south central part of the country is about as wide as an arterial street in a US city. It's primary traffic load is trucks and trolleys transporting goods across the country. Of course that is alongside the regular flow of rickshaws, private cars, bicycles, motorcycles, pedestrians (which often includes children playing on the street) and the occassional housewife drying her grains on this only piece of flat land she can find.

Next, there are no lanes. A seregated white line separates the two directions, which means that vehicles from either side can cross over whenever they want, and indeed they do. In fact, it looks like the state transport buses have decided they have a greater right over the roads than everyone else. The drivers of these buses insist on straddling the white line or driving in the dead center -- all the time! The lack of lane observation happens all through the day and night. You need a solid pair of night vision goggles to drive in the dark. Ask why? Because nobody uses anything but high beam lights. With trucks, jeeps, sedans, auto-rickshaws, motorcycles and bicycles all riding side-by-side, you are dodging a steady stream of high beam lights at varying heights. It is nothing short of a psychadellic experience.

As if all of this is not challenging enough, there is the added layer of human attitude that laces this experience. Vehicular traffic and pedestrians don't move until you are no more than a lethal foot from them. What's more, even then, you need to explicitly "ask" them to move by honking. Only then do they give way. Next, it is common to drive on the wrong side of the street where a divider exists. The  divider is really an obstacle; not a deterrent and certainly no guarantee of road safety. Then there is the "nudge and they will budge" attitude. In a traffic jam, everyone insists on nudging forward, one inch at a time, everyone around you has to budge if you nudge. Surprisingly, that is exactly what happens.

So, what is the end result of all of this? Simply that it takes forever to get from one place to another and when you do arrive your destination you are exhausted and highly frustrated. The only way you may not be frustrated is if you have been driving a luxury car like a Mercedes and listening to good music. Oh, I forgot to explain what "forever" means -- it means 60 miles take 2.5 hours to cover or as I experienced in Bombay, it takes an hour and a half to cover a distance of 7 miles when you are stuck in peak traffic. And, no, running the distance is not a realistic option unless you want to be sick with a cold due to all the carbon dioxide you would breathe.

All of this has made us start designing a car for Indian traffic conditions. More on that when we have a final design...

internet telephones

Technology is great for "some" things -- like internet telephones. We have been using internet telephones for a while now. So, when we came away to India, we took our phone with us. With broadband reaching the corners of India, we now have a local US phone number with us in a village in India. I have been rollicking in the excitement of being able to make local phone calls to people I miss in the US. The most avid technology basher would have to acknowledge that this is a brilliant technological inventions!

barbeque, indian ishtyle

It was time for a barbeque. The call came and we were all excited. We scurried about gathering all the materials -- lamb meat, charcoal, the few skewers we had, spices, drinks and off we went. As the sun began to set, an iron skillet (that doubles for carrying farm soil) was pulled out. It was placed on a brick platform and the coals were put on it. The coals were set afire and the process of building a coal fire started. Blowing, poking and the coals were smouldering. I built a contraption to hold the skewers across the coal fire. That was however not how it does is done indian rural ishtyle. Teak tree leaves were brought and the marinated meat was placed in them. Layers of leaves were wrapped and then the bundle was tied with a rope. This bundle was then placed on the simmering coals to cook for about 30 minutes. Tender, succelently cooked meat emerged. As we felt the breeze of a cool Indian winter evening, spiced lamb warmed our mouths. It was accompanied with jawar roti made by the local workers. I downed it with Thumbs Up (Indian coca-cola). The moon was out, the stars twinkled, not a mosquito was in sight, the bulls sat watched us, the pups had fallen asleep and the ducks walked about scavenging on what we dropped. The family cooked and laughed together. It was perfect!

chic revival

It was getting close to sunset when we came across the little thing. It was wet, cold, limp and unable stand up. It looked minutes away from passing away. I was stunned didn't know what to do. As the initial stun subsided, it struck me that a chic's body couldn't be very different from my own and so we started stroking its underside. I tried to massage its heart, pump out water from the area that seemed to house its lungs and Vamshi tried to give it mouth-to-mouth. Yes, mouth-to-mouth! That was the part that helped right away. Its tongue moved and it shook its head on its own. We continued to warm it, drying its feathers with our hands and mouth-to-mouth continued. Then we heard a weak cheep! Aha, that was a good sign! Next, one of the locals suggested we light a fire and warm its body. That really woke it up -- its eyes glistening as it felt the warmth. Next I checked its eyes -- they were still twinkling and the eye balls moved. All good signs. The warming continued for a while to come. Finally, we tried laying it down and it stayed on its feet instead of falling to the side like it was when we first found it. The sun had set and the chic was fluffy and cheepy again. We left it next to its mom for the night.

I came away moved and questioning once again why I am a non-vegetarian. I recently went back to eating meat due to health reasons. The decision has never fully settled with me on a philosophical level. I still believe that I need to find the least violent way of living. I find that often I eat non-vegetarian food because it is convenient to do so -- it takes away the hassel in being accounted for especially and the stress of explaining why I eat only vegetarian. All of those seem like cowardly reasons. Touching that chic and warming its body has put me in touch with "chicken" in a way that I had not experienced before. I don't think I can look at chicken curry the same way ever again. The question is, what am I going to do when someone offers to serve it to me to eat? Will I be a coward once again?

sounds of india

Many things make India, India for me. One being the various sounds I hear throughout the day. They are consistent, omnipresent across the country and never-aging. I have heard them since I was a baby. Smells remind us of places. Tastes certainly do. Songs can take us back to specific moments in the past. These sounds make India, India to me ..

• Chirping of birds, especially sparrows
• Doorbell rings
• Beeping horns
• Chimes of local temple bells
• Radio, especially when it says "yeh hai aakashvani" -- from the neighbour's home
• Bai (maid) washing clothes and beating them
• Steel utensils clanging in the kitchen
• Bhajans playing in the distance
• Trrring of a passing bicycle
• Reversing horn of a car
• Engine sound of a starting scooter
• Women's payals (anklets)
• Knife sharpner working at his machine
• Vegetable vendor calling out his wares
• Buzzing of crickets and mosquitoes as dusk wears on

I will add more as I hear them ...