The knife grinder's visit

The knife  grinder stood at the gate, checking whether  the dog was secure in its cage.  My maid informed me that all the knives had to be sharpened so please let him come in..so he cycled in. 
He asked for my mother in law and was shocked to hear that she was no more. It has been more than two years since he came this way.

O for Onam..

Onam.. synonymous with any Malayali...the legendary story of the just Demon King Mahabali heralds the spirit of happiness, hospitality, and prosperity. Ten days of delightful expectancy for the arrival of our beloved King. Plantains are sliced in thin rounds dipped in turmeric and fried till crisp, and the sweeter version, which is coated in jaggery and spices are even more delicious. Flower carpets adorn the front courtyards, which in olden days are first sanctified with cow dung paste. We used to go flower hunting..a scene which has faded into oblivion.Coir swings dangle merrily from the branches which would  be helplessly  witnessing  a tussle between the numerous little contestants waiting for a chance. .. Now flowers arrive in lorries in loads which busy parents after office haggle and strike a deal.Little girls in white petticoats picking flowers after giving the floral branches a good shake is a sight which has receded from our midst.

Well, thank the Lord that I've been born in this last generation who has witnessed these scenes and then could  write about it.

Attire does matter..

 Any festival..you name it and sparks of joy runs through your spine, even without you knowing it. You want to be a part of it, that is a way of holding on to your own traditions and values. Movies glorify it with  family reunions, doting grand parents waiting in their ancestral house.. a too familiar scene.. Onam is also the harvest festival, though now bungalows have evaded  the endless stretches of paddy fields and plantain groves or vazha thottam in Malayalam. But this younger jet set generation of ours too contribute in their own way and try to live up to them by conceptualizing  and  tying to keep the spirit alive. It is no fault of theirs that the customs are vanishing..

Malabaris do not have much Onam games to boast of, the southern counterparts have a much more active Onam, as they have the boat races, Puli kkali, Ona Thallu (Fight) and so on.

For me Onam has always been at Rama Nilayam( my husband's house), but nobody comes home as Karnataka schools do not have holidays for Onam so it would be just us and my ma in law. A research on the design to be cast in flowers would be done, delving into kolam designs. A mundu veshti would be the yearly Onakkodi from my mother in law. It s'been a year since she passed away, and I had to chose between spending the Onam at the family house alone or leave the family house forlorn and join Malabar Bay Onam celebrations.... Malabar Bay it was..

Malabar Bay's first Onam..a floral design adorned the entrance for ten days.  Onam songs lent the desired spring in our steps feel of Onam in  the air. We bought masks of tigers for the kids and fliers were issued.

Twenty six dishes are the norm of a normal Onam sadya. The number can be doubled or trebled as per your purse strings. Plantain leaves are laid the tips pointing left. North malabaris  are not much adept at the art of  partaking the traditional sadya hence, they are an object of ridicule to their Southern counterparts where it is strictly vegetarian., and they follow the rules of a sadya to the teee. Plantain chips sweet and salt arrive first, and immediately we go for it..but it should not be the case..wait wait wait till the salt is served the very last..Pilckles and tamarind ginger chutney are doled in close to each other which we Malabaris lap up as soon as it lands on the leaf. Pachadis mainly one of ginger and one of white gourd and another one of pine apple, then comes the kootu karis..an amalgamation of vegetables, crushed coconut and vegetables garnished with mustard and chillies , the elegant and mild olan.(.vegtables simmered in cocnut milk), and then the much awaited aviyal..(.veggies spiced with green chillies and laced with curd, cumin,and  coconut, curryleaves, and a liberal dose of of the aromatic coconut oil).

Lore goes that Mahabali is led here by the aroma of the mustard seeds , chillies and curry leaves spluttering in coconut oil..  Dried chilli kondattams and papapds crushed and crunched into the rice..sambhar which we have borrowed from Tamilnadu occupy the pride of place in a sadya.. Rasam and buttermilk with  a smattering of crushed ginger and green chillies, and  curry leaves are poured into cupped hands..Payasams are poured into paper cups..burppp. one with jaggery and the other rice pasta simmered and simmered to a creamy consistency. It is poured onto the leaf and we take care it does not slide over onto our onakkodis, a delightful way of lapping up the payasam is crushing a ripe plantain into it.. a literally fingerlicking treat..burrp..

Ona Sadya treat given to a Ninety yr old friend.. touched my soul.

The rice (mostly red rice is served and then comes the dal and ghee with salt. papads . The dal ghees and salt mixture is a slice of heaven. I remember attending a wedding in Trivandrum, when they served payasam, which left me wondering..Oh such a large spread and no kaalan (currry made of thick curd<which was my fav), and after the payasams,we  folded the leaf and lo..there camre the Kalan..that was the norm there and we found others throw us an amused look, finding our plantain leaves closed. But for us Malabaris.. fried fishes and chicken rule the roost.. if not , we are lost.

 Onam discussions at Malabar Bay..a tussle ensued veg or non veg? non veg won hands down, and it was decided that chembally fry  and Kerala chicken  fry would  vie with one another.

Who would be Maveli? Deepu of course. Deepu was our Captain from Nepal, round and wobbly, with  a disposition to match..but we asked him to say 'Nan-ni' (thanx) but 'panni'(meaning pig) was all he could stutter. so we cautioned him just to flash his thousand watt smile and bless his subjects.

Onam dawned. flowers were separated, leaves chopped, shredded  coconut,  dried, crushed and colored.. .. a beautiful carpet took shape. strands of marigold wined and twirled around the staircase and hung down from the Kerala style wooden railings... the Kerala boat which we had was filled with orange marigolds..the lamp was lit and then arrived Maveli in all his glory....the crowd started trickling in. ladies, let out their love for their home land..decked up in onnarayum mundum (as malabaris call it, the two piece mundu set of women), the creamy cotton sarees glowed with their subtle golden borders. bejewelled in palakkas and kaashu maalaas, . little girls scrambled holding up their cream skirts, men and boys with   mundus and cream shirts and kurtas ..poovili poovili ponnonamaayi..Salil Chowdury's hit song.. we are proud to be Mallus..it was nostalgic..click clickk..with Maveli  and the splendid and sumptuous sadya..

Malabar Bay family

me in mYsore

At Depth of Green..

 
Being in Mysore is being myself.. only me..a space of my own, ironically, silence, solitude and strains of music for company.  commitments shuttle you to and fro.. no complaints..as I have Mysore to turn to for a whiff of relief, and freedom. Now,the  weather is next best to your skin as it caresses and comforts, with showers of rain choosing to play hide n seek instead of pouring n pouring for hours together.
The house needed my attention as the bills had to be paid, the tv had to be repaired and the cable connection had to be restored, Santhosh left me in Mysore and drove off to Bangalore. The cloudy monsoon weather gifted me an illusory feel..  as though my cosy quilt was inviting me to snuggle in, as it had been lonely for quiet a long time, I obliged with drooping lids and  and slipped into  soft slumber .. n  lo it was past seven. lit the lamp and my sambrani dhoop, I left home to trod on the lanes I used to frequent, to the divine Ganesha who was clothed in creamy butter, with cherries for toenails, peppercorns for eyes, leaves and stems are made to look like garlands and jewellery.( bennai alankara), was soothing beyond words.The theertha was dribbled into my hands and a jasmine flower  given as prasad. I dipped my fingers into the kumkum bowl and streaked it on my forehead. A silent discourse with the Lord, telling him how I miss him, and I m on my way to the vegetable wala and the small crowded grocery store, which cd rival a supermarket, the boy there waved a cheery helloooo," thumba naalayi, kaanthaayillaa "( havent seen you for long). Well.. Im missed,, intoxicating ...Right next used to be a small hotel reeking of sambhar, where i used to inadvertantly quicken my pace.. I stopped short.. it was all done up in creamy ivory white and a man was playing  Yemen Raga on his flute. The small space had a small vertical garden fixed on a wall and small brass pots of indoor plants. seeing me, a lady with Italian features invited me in with folded hands.. namaste.. a very small space.. I sat on the wooden bark of a tree which served as a stool, and they handed me a small cup of phal ras, a banana crush laced with cardamom, and their menu on a on a wooden board.  I looked around, not so comfortable on the wooden stool, I must admit, an antique wooden round book shelf, filled with books, fitted in the centre of the room,(it seemed to be pleading for salvation) and another wall with wooden shelves are arranged with essential oils and herbal powders and potions. sambrani fumes get pathetically diffused amidst the cooking and transit of the staff. black and white photographs of Ramana. Maharshi, Aurobindo, and Jiddu Krihnamurthy lent a holistic feel.   The menu consisted of a variety of pastas, soups and salads sprout sandwiches, and fruit juices. I ordered a soup and sprout salad for Rs 100 and got ready to harness my mind to the ambience they strive to offer. 

Mr Tarneiv, came and introduced himself.. a techie from Canada...wanted to give back to his motherland, do business including a social cause... present and promote a holistic lifestyle, a noble idea indeed..but doubts soared in my mind. India.. after Canada..He explained..this was a small start towards building a holistic community..read, write, eat good food, sing and
share ideas.. he wd move over to a larger space later. Just then Rahul Dev, the bollywood villain barged in and here I am... clicked a pic with him. The young boy, a techie too fell in the groove, as he too left his job to dedicate his life to Sangeeth. I wished him all the best and he asked me to sit for some time more..I did and at ten, walked back home with mixed emotions. The road less traveled..is the one Tarneiv chose to live..

Vegas in my eyes.

It was a beautiful day. We had to leave San Francisco behind.. The flowers and the cafes, the lonely hilly roads, and the bright blue sea.. the fresh salad rolls... the gypsies... When will  I see you again? Over to Las Vegas..

The India that was...3

     Each page has something or the other which is fascinating and fabulous. The opulence of our princely class is not anything new, but when you try living it out and experiencing it, it takes a new dimension. The Scindias were one of the richest states.  Jai Vilas, apalce in Gwalior, was built expressly to receive The Prince Of Wales on his visit in1876.

The India that was...cont

What a sight! The Delhi durbar

On to the durbar again.
..the native states...as the British referred to the princely states were supposed to attend, and each had its own campsite.

The India that was...

The scene is Coronation Park of Delhi. The swaying corn fileds have transformed int o a dusty sea of white sails. India is celebrating it's new Emperor. George Fifth. The event had to feature in the historic events map as a star studded event.233 separate camp sites! A railway line with16 mini stations was created. Automobiles were the preferred means of transport. The muddy roads were pressed down with OIL. The electricity used was said to be enough to light up the twin cities of Brighton and Portsmouth. Wow! The eendless powercuts we endure now!Telegraph wires, water connections and Post offices were erected! The wealth of the states were evident by the fleets of cars they flaunted. hyderabad was the richest state and its cars were painted yellow. The King's camp was 83 acres. Rose bushes were shipped from London!!!! The main shamiana was filled with rich rugs and glittering crystal chandeliers. The State Dining tent held 145 British diners and thirty Indian diners...Now let me relax and get a feel of the scene..

lyrics, lores and lullabies

                    This is for those of you who loves, lores and lyrics, and who can lose yourself in those lovely lines, lyrics of songs, sonnets,ballads and bards. Lyrics have always moved me, as a romantic at first, with the Beegees singing.."Words..everlasting words"..or the husky voice of Baccara with "Don't play me a symphony..I'd rather hear a song..hum an old time melody..so I can hum along"

your mothertongue and your food..

 Bangalore is a stone's throw away from malabar, and almost everybody is in and out of Bangalore. Malayalam echoes everywhere. Malayalam eateries abound and Malayalam magazines flourish. English has been the language which comes from my heart and if I have to make my point felt..it has to be in English. But I see language in a different light now, how it s related to food, the food you grew up with..the food your  grandmother gave you, the food you find in your pathways and streets back home.

Fried plantains and Pazham pori are one and the same...but are poles apart...  It has to echo as Pazham pori to be  comfort food..These past few weeks at Malabar Bay paved the way for many basic revelations...Our friend Dinesh is married to a Telugu and his children speak Telugu and I found Dinesh cajoling  his son, "malayalathil parayedaa" (speak in Malayalam) to no avail. Malayali waiters are a rarity, so the Nepali boys create havoc, to the chagrin of our Malayali customers. Chemmeen undo..Reply" No," they order chicken and they overhear an order for prawn roast being placed from the very next table!. I had to answer the call for a delivery order.. I snatched the receiver from the Indonesian girl who spoke with utmost indifference about squid masala and meen mulakittathu. I snatched the phone to the customer's delight.." Oh.. Malayaliyalle? Ningaloru malayaliyine aaakaappaa. Ithu shariyaooolaa." It has to be chemmeen roast, kozhi varutharachathu and meen mulakittathu..it tugs at your heartstrings.. a revelation of how soothing your mothertongue can be..

                          

That's it for foood, but music too plays a part.. a large part. My son Sarang..a new gen kid.. does not heed my pleas to play good ole Malayalam songs. and finally , he had it. when he played Malayalam songs, guests started appreciating and once a guest requested, "Malayalam paattu vekkappaa".. Kannur slang!. Kerala chuva yulla airy open space..,  thani naadan food, topped with malyalam pattu... Malabar Bay is getting there.. for the Bangalore Malayali.

Here are some pictures from  .. 

Sunitha and Sariyu.

  Inauguration by Transport Minister Sri Ramalinga Reddy

 Remola aunty, Romi ad Shine

Elegant ladies indeed !

Family at Malabar Bay

Vegetaranism...or rather non vegetarianism..

                             The transition to Vegetarianism from waddling in fiery fish curries and succulent  chicken curries, happened in a split second. The change was not foreseen..it happened before I knew it. My most favorite exercise  on holidays was smearing a small quantity of rice in the pans in which fish was fried, taking care the rice was just the correct amount, lest the flavor is lost.. How could I leave the spicy arikadukkas, ( Rice balls coating large mussels, which was coated in chilli paste and fried), the tuna sandwiches, meat balls and a host of other delicacies which was always given much thought, and gorged on with much delight. Vegetables had never crossed the threshold of my mind except on any religious day which demanded a vegetarian diet..

Beautiful deities

I cannot put my finger on the moment I became interested in observing the costumes of the various deities in  temples.  Here in Kannur, my younger days, it was just a customary, hai, a hurried pranam and then bye. .I could never pray from a temple, and the sooner I got out, the better. Fleeting references from friends or relatives about the yellow Konam(under garment) of lord Krishna, and the alankaram of Sri Mookambika Devi, just kindled a spark, which died down as quick as it had glowed. Moreover in Kannur, they never used to dress up deities. It was the tantric form which is different from the mantra rituals in other states. The idol is most often than not, of black stone and at the most embellished with a couple of gold strands. But now, having stumbled upon the joy I am filled with, while seeing  the deities in a completely different frame of mind.. the rewards are bountiful. I look forward to it. First and foremost.. our minds are forever prying and prancing on a myriads of scenes, imaginary dialogues, pent up emotions, the amount of pending work to be done, and much more... Stillness of the mind is something which is very desirable, but it is like the proverbial sour grapes. It definitely stills the mind. As Keats said" A thing of beauty is a joy forever". I remember going to Thiruppathi temple where the Lord wears the finest and the most opulent jewels, being the most resplendant  God In the universe.  At the time, I wasn't even remotely interested, but as I came face to face with Balaji, I was dumbstruck by the effulgence and sheer beauty radiating from Him. But in  a flash, I was throbbed to move along and it was gone leaving a desolateness I c'd n't fathom. Slowly I started to take notice .. of the nose studs, the antique jewellery around the neck, the arched eyebrows and the black kohl lined eyes. The brilliant color of the sareees which was  neatly pleated to  form a large fan. The  crown and the head gear, the vermillion on her forehead, and the black hair which sometimes cascades down to her feet. swords, conch shells, scrolls, coins,peac ock feathers, and fans,..  The dainty feet and the anklets started tinkling in the inner recesses of my mind and all I wanted was to gaze and gaze and gaze. The Nimishamba temple is on the banks of the Cauvery in Srirangpatna. This temple was built by the Wodeyars around four hundred years back. Nimishamba ..she gratifies your wishes in minutes. You enter the lane and you find ladies selling green and red bangles. However many times I see this I never get tired of the sight. Glass bangles signify the transience of life. and the message.. Handle with care..Life is like the multi hued shimmering glass bangle. you have to handle it as you w'd a glass bangle. Garlands of lime, and baskets with coconuts and flowers are thrust into your hands. I brush them away and settle for glass bangles. the variety of greens, fresh vegetables, seasonal fruits all vie for your attention. a large peepal tree with navagrahas is a quaint sight. 

The Cauvery beckons. Round boats swirl in the current. You dip your feet to cleanse yourself, not only your feet, but your mind and your soul is scrubbed clean and emptied of all the debris, to fill yourself with the divine effulgence. There is a belief, that if you have something which is a source of worry, you take a lime and take it into the shrine and pray to Nimishamba, holding the lime close to your heart, and visualise all your worries enter the lime, and go out and throw it into the Cauvery, woes and all!! 

Nimishamba Devi is beautiful beyond words.. She stands clad in traditional kanjeevaram colors... adorned with exquisite jewelry, floral garlands abound..roses, marigolds, jasmine, khakra... lime garlands lend a touch of the sun.The sri chakra in front of her turns into heap of vermillion kumkum, from the archana which is performed reciting the thousand names to woo her, flatter her, beseech her to shower her blessings and grace on us, mere mortals. 

I exclaim to my son and husband to see how beautiful she looks... and they too have discovered the beauty this exercise renders. I observe her saree, her nose studs, her nose studs, her hair, her crown, her garlands, her eyes...A tranquility seeps in.. and I am alone with the beautiful Goddess. My crinkled forehead smoothens and I am filled with pure serene joy. The theertha is dribbled over my head and it drizzles down my face. A pair of green and red bangles, deep red kum kum and ajasmine strand is hurriedly placed in my hand.  We circumambulate the temple, buy the laddoos as prasad and troop out to sit on the banks of the Cauvery. A sprightly young girl, around eight yrs come to sell her masala vadas which costed only three rupees. We sit on the steps and watch the flurry of activity, the business transactions, the brand new couples and to be weds too. An atheist asked me.. Why do you spend so much time, money and effort and hopes on these temples. channelise your energies to more productive things" Yes  we do not need the rituals, temples or poojas or flowers or candles... The human race just needs money, food, water to live your life till death. you don't need music, you dont need art, you dont need branded stuff, you dont need to travel, discotheques, beauty and beer parlours..pubs and bars.. Maybe in earlier times when techies, and professional and vocational colleges did not and exist, the post of a poojari must have been a coveted one.

Feel the fabric and the texture of your life..snuggling in the comfort of your cosy quilt, in the early dewy morning, you miss the camphor infused theertha which is dribbled into your hands, and a few leaves of the tulsi and  marigold petals which is offered to the Lord or  a blob of the creamy God's own scented sandalwood paste. The warm feel of the burning camphor which is swished before the deity and the soft glow of the lamps, and if you are lucky to notice.. the quivering lips of old hunch backed  ladies clad in worn out Kanjeevarams or mundu veshti if in Kerala, chanting the Lord's name in pure devotion.