I think

Summer

It seems that sun god is planning to make up for last year's leniency in our part of the world.  The famed Tamil Agni Nakshatram or Kathri season  begins tomorrow (4th, May) and the past few days have been a glorious preview of what to expect in the next fortnight.

I am a summer person.  I can take any amount of heat.  Or, I can convince myself that I can take any amount of heat.  The moment I feel uncomfortable and irritated with the heat, I automatically remember the few years in Syracuse winter, especially incidents such as this, and I am ready to go dancing in the blazing sun.  A friend and I would argue about which is better - hers being, there is no limit to the number of layers of clothes you can wear on yourself to warm up, but there is a definite limit to the number of clothes you can take off to feel cool.  My argument was that it is much easier to cool both inside and outside the body with something as simple as water, but no matter how many clothes you wear, your nose and eyes need to be bare, and just that much skin exposed to -30 can even kill you. Of course,  this friend was born and bred in upstate New York, while I belong to the tropical paradise of Chennai, so there was nothing unexpected in our viewpoints.

Each region develops its own defense against nature's elements with time.  For example, fatty meat and alcohol are staple in cold countries because of the warmth they offer.  We have our own traditional defense mechanisms.  A few minutes back, we had a dinner of cold dadhyodhanam, a simple curd rice, garnished with cucumber, carrots, mango, cilantro and mustard.  As the first mouthful of the rice reached the stomach,  the body sighed at a perceptible cooling that resulted.

In the afternoon, the kid and I, not wishing to waste sun god's bounty, chose to check out South Asia's largest library, located a hop, skip and jump away from home.  On our way back, we walked and walked for what seems like kilometers, in search of a bus stop.  What saved us and a lot of people like us from sure heat stroke were the many vendors lined along the sidewalk, selling ilaneer (tender coconut water) and water melon.    When we sipped the refreshing drink, straight from its shell, I realized that while coke and pepsi can hoard the "kewl" factor, they can never come anywhere near a simple ilaneer for true "cool"ness.

The only thing that bugs me about our lifestyle in this hot weather is the clothes we traditionally wear.  I suppose "traditionally" is a wrong word to use here, because before the ancient foreign invaders corrupted us with their personal standards of morality, our clothes, as can be seen in the many sculptures in traditional temples, were skimpy. Of course, even if you factor in an element of hyperbole for erotica in art, reality would not have been too far off.   As seen in the sculptures,  both men and women were bare chested, and wore wispy pieces of cloth at their hips. 

Then came the Muslim and British conquest of India. The chest became a bad part of the body that needed to be covered and now, here we are, wearing neck-to-ankle covered salwar kameez or the modern 5 meter saree draped multiple times around the body, with its many layers of blouse/underskirts/underwear underneath.

If the ancient invasions ruined our dress habits that were designed so well to face the tropical weather of the country,  the recent invasion by the West has replaced our natural food habits that were designed to suit the weather here.  So, now pizza, coke and junk food have replaced dadhyodhanam, neer mor and panagam, and we walk in and out of air conditioned enclosures, thereby muddling the hypothalamus and messing the body's natural response to heat.

At least the ancient invasions were by force. The newer invasions have been by our own choice.  There is nothing wrong with adopting alien practices, but when it messes up with our natural proclivity, we need to think and act. 

With that highly egotistical statement I conclude, wishing co-Tamil Nadu dwellers a safe Kathri season.

Stay cool.

 

 

Service

One evening, after college, I was waiting at the bus stop to catch a bus back home.  Standing there, chatting with friends, I noticed a sudden hush that befell the bus stop. A mentally imbalanced destitute woman took off all her clothes, squatted on the floor and started pouring sand over herself, as though she was bathing in sand.  I could see that everyone, like me, was speechless.  Before I could gather my wits, my bus route 10 came, and by force of habit, I got in, reached home and continued with my routine, deliberately pushing disturbing thoughts of the woman away from my mind.

A few years later, on a vacation to India from the US, my eyes caught an interview in the newspaper, with my college senior - Vaishnavi. In the intervening years when I was neck-deep in academia, Vaishnavi and Vandana had co-founded the Banyan, a service organization to rescue, rehabilitate and integrate destitute women. In the interview, Vaishnavi mentioned that her Banyan took root on an evening, outside college, as she saw a mentally unstable woman take off her clothes and throw sand over herself, with the rest of the apparently "normal" crowd merely passing a glance and getting on with their own lives.  At that moment, I wanted the earth to part and swallow me, because I knew I was part of the "normal" crowd.

Of course, as ever, that too, passed.

Today's newspaper carries an article about "Vidyarambam Trust", a non-profit service organization, started by one Vishwanath Ranganathan, to provide education and a decent standard of living to underpriviledged children in the city.  His inspiration came when he saw aluminum plates in the school satchel of kids, and realised that kids go to school, only for the meal.

The orphanage "Udavum Karangal" was started by a single person - Vidyaakar, who responded to his calling, when one day, he rescued a 11-month abandoned baby from a cinema theater.

My late mother, was part of a "ladies club" whose founder, Mrs. Savithri Vaithi, led her ladies to start a "home" for the uncared and abandoned aged, - Vishranthi. I remember that my mother found a lot of satisfaction serving there thrice a week, not minding the gruelling travel to get there, twenty years ago, when Palavaakam was a very inhospitable distant outpost of Chennai.  Fate snatched her away too soon, but I believe that if she had lived longer, she would have continued to serve at Vishranthi with all her heart.  Mrs. Vaithi is an octagenarian now, and lives in her own home, and is still dedicated enough to run the show with ample help from her ladies club women, who have stuck to the cause for more than two decades now.

What is it that makes a few special people stand apart from the rest to serve humanity?  Is it how we are hard-wired?   For example, I consider myself very soft-hearted, a begger on the road can bring tears to my eyes, but I cannot see myself serving less-fortunate co-humans.  Even when I hear of Prabakar or Savithri or Vishwanath, my first thought always is "what makes them do this?".  It could not have been easy.  For example, where did their daily meal come from?  Obviously if they had to plunge headlong into their service, it would leave them very little time to earn their lving. With a personal bank balance hovering around bare minimum, will they feel secure enough to help others? The societal obstacles they would have had to face must have been tremendous - Prabhakar was in his early twenties when he decided to dedicate his life to supporting orphans, which means he had set aside the normal course of life - job, marriage, kids, LKG admission, house, retirement benefits - everything, in order to give a few kids a chance to live.  Or is it just my own sad lack of passion that makes me think that. Perhaps the incredible commitment, driven by the passion to make a difference,over-rides any other obstacles that you'd otherwise consider crippling.

I can never be a Prabhkar, or Savithri Vaithi or Vaishnavi.  But I am grateful to them and hope that they will be blessed amply for doing what the rest of us should rightfully have done. 

 

 

 

 

Navarathri 2010 - First day

Some pictures from dude's cool camera with panaromic view, bells and whistles..

We had a pattu class today.  I like to kick start my navarathri with the pattu class kids,  because the kids have been V's friends since she remembers - a couple of them, even earlier than that. Navarathri is especially blessed with the songs of little goddess of our neighbourhood.

Our paatu class will be entering its fourth year this Vijayadasami. 

 

Navarathri

Last year, my big deadline ended the night before Navarathri began, and so I could not prepare much in advance.  This year, I've been more lucky.  The big deadline is over. The next one is not for another 20 days and so I can actually help my little one gear up for Navarathri.

Thanks to two bags of "cotton snow" sent by the aunt, this year's side-show theme was easy to decide.  Last year, I believe it was a park/jungle/garden.

Due to the deadline and lack of time, we used ready-made plastic animals.  This year we got more ambitious.  So, we are making the Tundra landscape with home-made animals.  We started making the models yesterday. These are little puppet type paper animals with a toothpick to fix on to a (probably thermocol) base.  I hope they stand.  Little V painted the animals.

Excuse the half-clad eskimo.  He still needs footwear and I just figured out (in my sleep) how to make them.

Pretty thrilled with how the other animals turned out.

Still have a lot more to make - an igloo, more eskimoes, more animals...

We also need to figure out how to make a sled.

More as preparations get underway.

Update on 29/9/2010

Eskimo friends

Brighadeeshwara Temple

This year marks the 1000th year of the Brighadeeshwara temple in Tanjavur. It was built in 1010 by a Chozha king called Raja Raja Chozhan, it stands 216-feet tall, apparently visible from any part of the town - I don't think that is true anymore with the high rises, but I am sure 20 years earlier, it would have indeed been so.

I visited this temple when I was 10 years old, and remember being awed by its splendour.  The memories are rather fuzzy now, I only remember small snippets like the huge nandhi, an idol of a "very European looking man with a hat" on the tower - remember, this was the eleventh century A.D. much before the British came to India. The more superstitious believe that the builders had a future vision of Europeans visiting, but I suspect there must have been trade with the West, and that's how the idol came about.

The temple is dedicated to Lord Shiva.  Unlinke other temples in South India that come under the Department of Religious works of the State Government, this temple is maintained by the Archeological Survey of India. It is also part of Unesco's Great Living Chola Temples.

The reason for the post is this.  This weekend  will be a celebration of the thousand years of the temple.  Renouned Bharathnatyam danseuse, Ms. Padma Subramaniam has choreographed a dance, which will be performed by ONE THOUSAND dancers inside the temple.  Why a dance-celebration? Maybe because, in 1956, sculptures of 108 dance poses were discovered inside the first tier of the tower.   General public are not allowed inside the temple to watch the show thanks to the CM attending the function and the tight security measures involved. But it seems, that it will be aired on one or more of the local Tamil channels, live.  Given the setting, I am sure it will be a grand event.

We do not have a television at home. So, if anyone knows of a website that might air it live or later, please let me know.

Read more about the event here.

There is a 360 degree view of the temple here.  It takes some time to load. (To be honest, it did not load at all at my system, because I had some outdated flash software or something, but I have seen the 360 picture of the Meenakshi temple in the past, and this can only look grander, if and when it loads)

 Update:

Source: The Hindu