On a pleasant December afternoon (Yes, December!) take a break from hectic metro life and wander onto the famed Juhu Beach in Mumbai, India. And there, enjoy the sight of the locals drinking Kala Khatta (Indian blackberry juice, spiced with black salt, lemon juice and pepper and eat spicy Bhel (puffed rice, vegges spiced with tangy tamarind juice) or if you are brave enough sample it yourself. 🙂
Whenever I travel back to my homeland, I prepare for a culture shock. The crowds, the noise, the pollution have all increased several fold as the country races forward at breakneck speed to catch up with the rest of the world. But I’ve come here to relive some beautiful memories, to catch up from where I left off–I’ve come to reconnect with the past. How do I do that and where?
There are some places left in the country where it seems that life still goes on as it did a few decades ago, where people are laid back, where nature is not at war with mankind–
COONOOR– is one such place. It is located in the Nilgiri Hills, about 56 kms from the Coimbatore Airport, in the southern Indian State of Tamil Nadu. It is part way from its more well known cousin Ooty which I will advice you to avoid if you can.
Known for its tea plantations, Coonoor is a lovely, rustic little town, which with its abundance of greenery and quaint architecture, is a throw back to India as it used to be. The temperate climate and serene environment helps the restless soul to relax and take a few breaths of peace.
There are several wonderful places to stay in this place. I recommend the Gateway Hotel on Church Road, — a historic hotel which is a wonderful blend of colonial charm and modern amenities and yes, the food is great! 🙂
When you are there, don’t forget to take a ride on the Nilgiris meter gauge train, as well as a personalized tour of the tea estates.
The Bonnet Macaque is a common sight in the hill stations of Southern India. This young one was seen gallivanting around in Coonoor.
Quenching thirst at a temporary stream
Gossip time
2: Compromise
She had lain awake all night, quite unable to digest the shock. Was this really happening to her, Ruhi Sharma, for whom receiv- ing love notes from potential suitors had become as routine and sundry as brushing teeth? Could a man really reject her? It was hard to absorb.
The following morning, Shaan found her sitting in the same position he had left her in the night before. Feeling sorry, he made an offer, “You can opt out right now. I expect you would want to do so. Don’t worry. I will take care of everything.”
Turning to him, with an unusually serene expression in her tired eyes, she said, “No, that is not an option. I can’t be the cause of distress to my parents. I’m willing to carry on with this charade, that is, if it’s all right with you.”
Shaan wasn’t just disappointed, he was taken aback. This was highly unexpected. It was meant to be only a small complication, but now all his plans would turn awry.
He had clearly informed his father about his ongoing affair, but Shiv Ahuja, being who he was, had dismissed it. “Ohh! So you are playing around with a white woman? Well, that happens, my son, and it doesn’t matter.”
“But it matters to me, Dad. I love her!” “And does she love you?” “I think so. Yes, I’m pretty sure about it,” he’d replied, albeit a little doubtfully.
“Then is she willing to marry you and be my bahu?”
Looking down embarrassed, he said, “She can’t, she’s already married. It’s…it’s complicated.”
“So that is the case.” Shiv beamed. “And here I was straining my brains wondering why our son hadn’t hooked up with a girl yet.”
It goes without saying that the youngest Ahuja was by no means lacking in looks. He was unusually handsome, of good build, and above average height who liked to maintain an athletic physique with regular exercise. But despite being inundated with innumerable suitable matches, each willing to part with unbelievable amounts in dowry, he had steadfastly declined. In fact, he had even refused to pay a visit to his hometown until now. His hand finally being forced by the news of his dadaji’s terminal ill- ness, whose final wish was to see his youngest grandson married and settled in life.
But what Shaan lacked in moral makeup, he made up for by his integrity. “I don’t want to live under false pretenses. I do not want to be instrumental in ruining an innocent life!”
“Then are you willing to let Papaji go to his deathbed with his final wish unfulfilled? Do you want the shadow of his regret to cloud the rest of our family’s future?”
Shaan wasn’t too pleased, but his father was leaving him with no real options.
“Just get married to this nice girl, bid farewell to your Dadaji, then you can do whatever you wish. Get a divorce or, if you are a real man, carry on at both ends, neither party need know!” Shiv had winked conspiratorially while giving him a sound thump on his back.
His son wasn’t surprised. For a long time, he had suspected that his father ran more than one household, and his long-suffering mother probably knew about it but was too tired to fight. He went through with the farce, and no one raised a finger.
Fortunately for Shaan, it appeared that his grandfather had been holding on to his last breath for this particular event before he gave up and was declared free from this world.
Therefore, undoubtedly the extent of his alarm was immeasurable when Ruhi refused his offer of an amicable separation. He was flummoxed!
Why did he have to carry on living a pained existence with this girl till she made up her mind to set him free? She was being unreasonable.
“But, but I can’t—”
“Carry out the duties of a normal husband?” she asked without hesitation.
Shaan looked surprised. “Yes.”
“I don’t expect you to, especially after what you told me last night. But can we maybe give us a chance?” There was a clear and desperate note of plea in her voice.
Not exactly enjoying the exchange, he retorted, “No, that’s impossible. I was forced into this.” It came out sounding brutal, but he couldn’t take it back.
“But I wasn’t. What about me? Where is my fault in all this?” Why was he being made to feel guilty?
“Well, that was the reason for my offer. We can end this now, and you will be free to start a new life again.” He looked eagerly at her; this was the opportune time to get his way.
She laughed. “That’s easy for you to say. You are a man! But in this society, a woman rejected after marriage is like a pariah. All the men who at one time used to flock around me would not even consider looking at me again.” Smiling wryly, she continued, “Besides, what about my parents, their dreams? What about all that my father had to go through to get the best possible match for his only daughter?”
Shaan closed his eyes…He hadn’t realized, but things were much more complicated than he had imagined.
Then she said in a much calmer tone, “I request you to think it over because this doesn’t affect just the two of us, it does a lot of others—those whom I love and care for above and beyond myself. Perhaps if we give it a month or two we could develop differences? I could tell my father that I can’t stay with you, that we don’t get along, and he’d understand. It won’t be as harsh, and you would be free to do as you please.” Looking at her, he wondered. Did she really mean what she said?
“It’s just a request.”
tbc
1: DISILLUSION
Ruhi Sharma was a blushing bride, practically a newlywed, locked up in this glittering cage for almost a month, twenty-nine days to be exact; an object of envy of all her friends and family.
Twenty-nine days ago, she had signed her name beside his on the marriage certificate. She had gone through all the miscellaneous ceremonies associated with the typical grand Indian wedding—the engagement, the Mehendi, the Sangeet, the Haldi, and the grand finale (her father had spared no expense) until finally her betrothed had staked his claim by placing the Sindoor on her forehead and tying the Mangalsutra around her neck, and she had quietly and blissfully followed him around the sacred fire carefully listening to and reciting the Saath Pheras in her mind.
She was the very beautiful and accomplished daughter of Amrit and Devyani Sharma, the apple of their eye, and they had left no stone unturned in raising her the best way they possibly could.
Friends and family were surprised for not only had Ruhi been provided with a very good education, she held an MBA from a leading institution, but her parents had also made sure that she was adept in all other various skills, which a well-bred traditional Indian girl is desired to be proficient in. Therefore, nobody marveled when marriage proposals came pouring in from all directions.
But the Sharmas were choosy; they wanted only the best for their golden child, and they did get it, or so they surmised.
The idea of giving their daughter’s hand in marriage to the well-accomplished son of the most well-known family in Chandigarh was beyond their wildest imagination. It was wilder because they hadn’t gone in search of it, rather it had come and landed on their lap.
Shaan, the youngest and most eligible of the Ahuja clan, was twenty-seven, a fresh aerospace masters grad from a premier engineering institute located in the Los Angeles county of United States, California, who had already bagged a plum job in a leading aeronautics and space exploration company in sunny LA.
“My son makes interplanetary spacecraft. He’s the man of the future” had become the proud and frequent rant of Mr. Shiv Ahuja, who for some odd reason seemed to be trying to paint his son in the most rosy of tones even though he really didn’t need to, for as soon as Ruhi saw her future husband’s likeness, she lost her heart, and there was no question of a retrieval.
~~0~~
“Chai?”
“Huh? Yes please with just a pinch of sugar. Thanks!” He took the cup from her hands, careful not to touch her fingers.
Ruhi closed her eyes; she could now repeat every movement, every word by rote. He was a creature of habit…and she was bored.
What was supposed to be the most exciting time in every young woman’s life had turned out to be the worst…Well, not really. He wasn’t mean. rather he was the perfect gentleman, too perfect!
Oh how she wished he would rather be screaming mean and nasty. At least that would bring some excitement into her not- so-happening life! She laughed, pausing as she brushed her long black hair, rather hysterically.
The bombshell had dropped on their wedding night.
He had walked into the room late as she sat there, a shy bride in all her wedding finery waiting, nervous yet excited at the same time, to meet the man she had hardly spoken to or looked at. What would he say, talk about, or do?
She had heard a lot of stories about what to expect, some factual and some fabricated (her friends had prepared her well), but she wanted her own to be special, unique, and it was…
Sitting down on the bed in front of her, he had taken her hand in his and said very gently, as if to tone down the trauma, “I bet you are one of the most beautiful brides in the world, but I’m sorry I cannot make love to you. There is someone else.”
Not sure if she’d heard right, Ruhi had watched puzzled as he lay down on the mattress and turned his back to her. Is that it? A plain and blunt dismissal of her dreams, her life? Was that all?
tbc
Glossary:
Mangalsutra: Sacred thread that a married woman wears around her neck.
Mehendi, Sangeet, Haldi: Traditional marriage rituals conducted during a North Indian Hindu marriage ceremony. During the Mehendi ceremony, henna is applied to the bride’s hands to strengthen the bond of love in the mar- riage. During the Sangeet or music ceremony, the families of the bride and groom celebrate the upcoming wedding with music and dance. During the Haldi or turmeric ceremony, turmeric is applied to the bride and groom in their respective homes as part of the cleansing and beautification process.
Saat Phera: Seven sacred vows taken during a traditional Hindu wedding ceremony by the bride and groom.
Sindoor: Red vermillion powder worn by married women along the parting of their hair.
One of the most stunning examples of Southern India’s Dravidian architecture is The Brihadisvara Temple located in the city of Thanjavur in the state of Tamil Nadu. Completed in 1010 CE, it was built by Rajaraja Chola 1, one of the most powerful rulers of South India and is dedicated to Lord Shiva. It is built almost entirely of granite blocks. The circumabulatory passage along the periphery of the temple feature some exquisite sculpture and paintings from the Chola period.
celebrating Holi in India (Courtesy National Geo)
When Holika burned, Good won over evil
When Krishna playfully colored Radha’s face, he ensured the purity of love
Holi invokes Spring, the genesis of new hope and relationships
Let’s celebrate it’s spirit and forget and forgive
HAPPY HOLI
When the simple act of partaking food becomes a sacred event, one just doesn’t feed the stomach but feeds the soul.
A very good example is the traditional South Indian meal that is served on a banana leaf (biodegradable and lends a special flavor). The food is simple and wholesome, prepared from scratch, with love and devotion. The distinct aroma and flavors achieved by the correct blend of fresh spices such as curry leaves, mustard seeds, coriander, ginger, garlic, chili, pepper, cinnamon,cloves, green cardamom, cumin, nutmeg, coconut and rosewater.
Whenever I travel back to my homeland, I have the pleasure of savoring such meals in the homes of my family members where tradition is still adhered to especially during festivals and formal occasions. The above picture shows a very basic South Indian vegetarian meal that consists of cooked white rice, banana chips, lentil papadam (thin, crisp, disc shaped, deep fried appetizers), beetroot poriyal (vegetable), savory lentil vada (fritter), yogurt and payasam (pudding made by boiling rice, cracked wheat or vermicelli with milk and sugar).
The wooden man is dressed in traditional South Indian attire of cotton dhoti (long loincloth) and angavastram (upper garment).
Children in Rome on a field trip to the Colosseum
Children in Delhi on a field trip to the Red Fort
Our future imbibing our history
Original art by Sneha (oil pastel)
Under the Shade of the Banyan
`
Banias conduct business
Gods meditate and recline
My leaves dispense knowledge
My structure reflects the world
Material and Spiritual
Study me
I am the eternal tree
`
The Banyan tree is the national tree of India and Bangladesh. The word Banyan comes from the Gujarati word Bania or trader. The word was picked up by the Portugese to refer to the Hindu traders who used to sit under the shade of these trees to conduct their business and passed it on to the English who began to refer to the ‘Banyan’ trees. 🙂
Interesting? Learn more here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Banyan