Navaratri - Memories from past

 The below article was first published in ' Financial Express'.

The year 2020 has been extremely overwhelming for all of us. A striking effect of this pandemic has been the social distancing and not getting to socialise in person with our family and friends as before. With Navaratri round the corner, it got me thinking how this year’s festivities would unravel. While each region celebrates this festival in different ways, my region celebrates this Devi festival with an arrangement of dolls called ‘Kolu or Golu’ signifying the Darbar of Devi.

The very name “Navaratri” evokes powerful childhood memories in me. What strikes me the most about these memories are that not one of them is materialistic  but most of them about social bonding. 

With festive time closer, my mind is wandering around Mylapore, an affluent neighbourhood famous for sacred sites and a cultural centre in Madras. Festivals are interwoven into the life of Mylapore and navaratri is no exception. It is in these vacations that I have built many cherish worthy memories which are now my emotional cushions. If you are a person who believes in vibrations and positive energy of a place, then Mylapore is one such divine place. The thought of this magical place beckons me to relive and celebrate my childhood Dussehra vacation and immortalise them in this column .

Growing up in Bangalore, Dussehra vacation was something I looked forward to during my school years. Like to many, vacations meant no regular routine and festivals meant food and fun but I looked forward to the time with my extended family. The last day of mid-term would be Kannada exam that would end by 10.30 a.m and my train to my grandparents home in Madras, the Brindavan express would be at 1.20p.m. This was an annual highlight — a solo travel where my dad would put me onboard and my grandfather would pick me up at Madras Central and the next 15 days would be at thatha-paati’s (grand parents) home in Kutcheri road, Mylapore.

At home, a few days before Navaratri, after dusting and cleaning the whole home, the elders would be busy in the kitchen and in their noon day siesta time, they would climb the attic and pull out biscuit tins, planks and clay dolls. I would zealously wait down looking to unwrap the dolls covered in old clothes and newspapers. The musty smell that came with the wrappings remains fresh in my mind even today. The toys were old heirlooms which the family inherited from one generation to another. The dolls would be cleaned and if need be given a touch-up or repainted.

The big biscuit tins and wooden planks would morph into a ‘golu’ display stand. The square tins would hold the wooden plank and thus 11 steps were formed which almost covered half of paati's room on the ground floor. The whole arrangement would be draped with thatha’s veshti (white dhoti) and pinned with crepe ribbons. All the clay dolls and porcelain dolls would be arranged on the steps by elders symbolising ascension of spiritualism over materialism, so the Gods would be at the top and the material world would be at the bottom,  but only after placing the auspicious kalasham (holy pot) signifying the presence of Devi .

My role, every year, was to set up the park on the ground below the mandatory steps. It was a joy for me to remove the toys from my wicker basket, sourced from the makeshift shops around the nearby teppakulam (temple pond). Tiny chairs, tiny figurines, miniature coconut trees, hand pump, homes would all be landscaped with the beach sand and the soaked ragi (millets) was sprinkled which by the third day would add beauty with their lush micro-greens and give a lawn effect. The roads were laid with used coffee grounds which would be collected and dried before and match sticks would be used to make a fence. It was always so much fun, as a child, to build this beautiful park, leaving me with a sense of pride to flaunt my masterpiece. Just reminiscing and writing about this reminds me how important it is to create festival traditions that establish such positive memories.

In the morning, the pooja rituals were done by the elder ladies; snacks for the invitees would be made in the kitchen like sundal (seasoned legumes) and some finger foods for kids like kai-suttu murukku, thattai (savouries)and laddus.

Evening I would go around with my aunt to visit homes to view others  golu arrangements, while mami and paati would receive the guests at home. It was fun hoarding sundal  from one home to another with small token gifts for us little girls.

It was also mandatory for us to visit the nearby Kapali koil, to participate in the festival. The whole area around the temple would be festive and matching it on ground , around teppakulam and mada veedhi (The lanes around temple), were hawkers selling traditional mann bommais (clay dolls) and other small  items. The regular shops like Srividya, Giri’s, Sukra’s, Vijaya stores, Ambika would be doing brisk business selling flowers, pooja and gift items.

I would walk with elders through the narrow streets to reach the Kapali temple and praying to the God was the last thing on my mind. I was more besotted by the festive atmosphere — the peacocks and the golu at the temple and the decorated deities were a visual feast. After the darshan we would sit and enjoy the cultural concert and walk back home with sundal in our hands.

What can be more special for a child than to have delicious food, fun and token gifts during various golu visits. The bonding time at relatives and friends place are all the rich memories that I would hoard as I returned for home, again on Brindavan Express. That was my childhood navaratri. A couple of years when I did’nt make it to Madras, I ended up in Mysore Dussehra with my parents.

Years later, when my daughter and son were born, I started the tradition of keeping golu. Living in a multi- cultural condominium, this pan Indian festival which charmingly links religions, rituals, social and cultural traditions has given my children a lot more memories and exposure to different cultures. Festivals, besides being an occasion to gather and socialise with family and friends over food and fun, for me is to pass on the baton of our rich culture and tradition to my children to assimilate, absorb and bring a smile on their face.

This pandemic festive time with the new normal, things are going to be different. Maybe virtual golu tours and social media wishes to compensate for the social gatherings? Given all, we must take solace in the environmental recovery of fewer carbon footprints, clean roads, clear skies, breathable environment while recalling the whole bunch of memories and keeping the tradition alive with digital vibes. 

Once upon a time....

• Today on World Storytelling day, I had to share about my journey as a storyteller. Here goes the column published first in financial express.

 Oral Storytelling is one of the oldest and most loved cultural tradition. A tradition that has been passed on from one generation to another. This oral art continues to be relevant, even today in our media-saturated society.

I believe we are all storytellers and are made up of stories. We have grown listening to them. The stories can be folklore, mythology, fiction or stories of family and friends. These stories besides enriching us are the threads that weave our life and we inherit and leave these as a treasured legacy. We may not remember all the stories but we sure remember how we heard the stories from our family and friends.

My earliest memory that I recall of listening to a story is from my  Grandmom’s elder sister who would lie beside me and tell stories of mythology, tales of common man, folk tales, etc. She would gesticulate with her wrinkly hands and modulate her voice as the story changed the settings from a forest to a Kingdom to a faraway land. The story I was told to was a ‘Kozhakattai’ (modak) story in my mother tongue, Tamil. At that age, though storytelling was a bait to retire to bed, today when I look back, I am able to appreciate that art of storytelling in its purest form, oral tradition.

My grandparents, parents, and extended family were all my family storytellers. My parents would make up stories during my bedtime, which when narrated made me feel secure and comfortable. Stories involving the members of our family, our ancestors or some living memory, some amusing incident or something about how the ancestors owned an entire village, their contributions were retold in simple unpolished ways. Many family stories like the ‘Dhanushkodi story’, a town on the east coast of India, which marooned when a killer cyclone with a high tidal wave blew away all structures and almost wiped the whole town. A few survived to tell the tale and one of the surviving family was my mom’s uncle. Another favourite - The ‘Burma story’ was about how my maternal grandfather walked from Burma to India through the forests with 3 bottles of Kim (a malted beverage) in his backpack during the war. The other story from my paternal side was how the famous Saint Ramana Maharishi was saved from the thieves by my great grandfather, then Deputy Superintendent of Police. This story although told to me by my grandfather, it gave me greater joy to hear this from the then ashram president, Sri Ramanananda (grand nephew of the saint). These family stories are like the blueprint for our family identities. I have inherited so many such powerful family stories as a valuable legacy.

In early school days, we had an exclusive oral storytelling period. In English, we listened to fairy tales like Thumbelina, folk and mythological tales and; during Kannada class we heard stories of powerful women like  Onakke Obavva, Rani Abbakka of Ullal, the poignant Punyakoti’s story. At the homefront, besides family stories, I was dragged to the traditional storytelling sessions in temples like pravachans, Harikathas and kathakalakshepam (stories and lectures on mythology) by Paati. Our Sanskrit pandit would narrate stories from Malavikagnimitra, Abhignana Shakunthala, Kumarasambhavam, etc. So many oral story listening and hearing opportunities when mass and satellite communication was not popular.

My storytellers must have had a profound influence on me that even today wherever I see the word “Storytelling” in print or in e-media my eyes stop there and throw me back in time. The morals or values did not sink into my little brain then, it was more entertainment, but I guess, I was besotted with the art of storytelling like gesticulations, the emotions, body language, expressions, the bonding, etc.

I was educated for a career in electronics but these storytellers somewhere must have left such a deep influence in me that many years later my passion for stories lured me to take up a profession of a storyteller. When an opportunity came my way, I grabbed it. I practiced voice diction, modulation, body language and with experience, I built my repertoire and slowly found what stories made an impact on young, evolving minds. Gradually I developed into a life-skill facilitator (visiting faculty) which involved teaching life skills through interactive stories, conducting theatre workshops for children. My students taught me more than what I learned in my student life.

I found the choice of the stories was important, while I chose simple interactive stories with repetitive lines for lower classes. Little children loved hearing the same story and would even mindlessly repeat the catchy words as they skipped and hopped out of the class.  Middle school children were more interested in fun stories and stories of wisdom but honestly as a storyteller, I let the magic of the story unfold, I never put forth the moral or made it sound preachy, the moral was always brought out by the children and not all stories had to teach or have a moral. They were inquisitive and were open to thinking out of the box. Teenagers in higher classes were interested in historical stories and real-life stories. They were able to empathize and understand the stories better.

The stories I told them not just entertained, enchanted and delighted them but the ideas molded the young minds. The children would embellish the sessions with their own experiences, thoughts, and ideas. The storytelling sessions in fact, turned into story listening sessions for me since the communication became two way. I believe stories have that power. Apart from teaching and enriching with tangibles like vocabulary, expression, modulation; they teach values like empathy, perseverance, to inspire, to dream, and to imagine possible worlds. We cannot evaluate them in grades but they add value to their living to raise them as empathetic and compassionate humans.

It is often said that that today’s children rely more on visual mediums and refuse to sit and listen. From my experience, I have seen children and even elders to whom stories are told, sit and learn to listen. An invaluable skill that will see them through school, college, work, and  life. Storytelling is all about communicating, listening, interacting which are important ingredients of a healthy family or community. Besides family and educational institution, today storytelling is also part of organisations, corporates, associations. They improve social inclusion, people management, team building, leadership skills. Oral storytelling is a fascinating art to bring people together.  I believe it enriches family life, fosters communities and fraternity.

Here is the link.

My love for strung words

The below column was first published in the Financial Express dated March 5, 2020 for World Book Day. Link at the end.

My mother's library book lying above the newspapers pile is due for exchange. In fact, it has been due for the past three weeks.

It is close to three weeks since dear appa passed away peacefully. The ever active selfless, generous, helpful, people's person, charmer (the adjectives awarded to appa by his relatives, friends & neighbours), Appa, would go all around the town to buy groceries, pay bills not only for his family but also for his neighbours. He would zip off on his Scooty Zest to the library 2 kms away to exchange the book, & come back home in the noon with bags of groceries. He would lay the grocery bag on the dining table, while Amma would be ready with a hot cup of tea for him. While it was Amma, a voracious reader who inspired me to read, it was dear Appa who introduced and encouraged me to the world of books.


I still remember the day I picked up my first comic book at the IBH exhibition in glass house at Lalbagh in Bangalore. I was around 6 years at that time. My appa, amma and I walked to Lalbagh which was a few metres from home. Appa got me my first Amar Chitra Katha - ‘Lord Ganesha’ and it costed just Rs. 2 back then.
From then on, whenever I passed by the book store near my house or the Higginbothams store at Railway stations while travelling, I would buy them and add it to my personal collection of ACKs. Even the gift money that I would get from family elders would be spent on buying books. I believe, ACKs are windows to our culture and our Indian kids must be brought up on this pictorial and word diet.

 My fond love for  ACK, was followed by Champak, Gokulam and Tinkle. One of my favourite places to read the book, was under the shade of the gooseberry tree in my house in Bangalore. It was in the corner of the compound and under that was a granite stone. I had formed my own book club in which I was the lone and founding member. I would take a fallen gooseberry and write ‘TINKLE BOOK CLUB’ (TBC), the acidic berry would leave its mark on the textured compound wall. I would then sit under the tree, open my book, stamp them as TBC with ink and continue with my reading. Besides the shade of gooseberry tree, I would  sometimes also sit on the door step, by the bed room window, under the dim lights of the kitchen dining table or under the covers of my blanket with a torch light.


After comics, Enid Blytons and classics followed. My mind wanders to those times when Appa took me on his Enfield bullet or Crusader bike to book stores to buy new books or from road side book sellers.
Oh, the joy of discovering Pickwick papers, Pride & Prejudice, Little Women! I recall reading passages aloud, relishing the sentence construction, new words, experiencing and traveling to new worlds that I had never seen.

Further to encourage my reading habit, Appa enrolled me in the City Central Library in Bangalore. I vividly remember the hard bound, well- worn books neatly stacked on the metal shelfs creating an enchanting space that draws you. I would pick the book and wait excitedly to get to the end of the book to unravel  the journey of the protagonist or mysterious plots.

All these books I read, introduced me to fancy words like blitzkrieg, stentorian, fusillade, treacle tart, marmalade, promenade. I would attempt to decipher their meaning in that context and very often I would make up those meanings myself. Many a times, I have also underlined those complex words to hunt for their meaning in the dictionary later on, which helped me expand my word bank. And yes, these additions to my vocabulary made me feel like a slightly smart child in school.

I realise a lot of my growing up years have featured books and it is all because of my parents. I have always been a voracious reader, devouring books.

Studying away from my home state, my mother language was not part of the school curriculum. Appa would buy me the Tamil newspaper 'Dina Thanthi' so that I could learn the language. So grateful for that, today I can speak, read & write Tamil fluently. My knowledge of current affairs and other general affairs were periodically updated, a lot of which I owe to my Appa who got me news papers and general knowledge books regularly.

Of late, my genre has narrowed. What absorbs me these days are the historical or surreal spiritual books. These books are not light racy reads. There are times when I pause, read, re-read to understand. They make me re-think my existence, helps me to stay grounded & contemplate.
Reading isn’t like before now, my reading is shifted to the screens. Yes, Kindle has replaced the physical books. Right now, ‘The Ivory Throne’ by Manu Nair is flickering on my screen, while the book ‘Thus spake the Divine' is beside me.

On this World book day, can't thank enough my appa and amma who encouraged me to fall in love with strung words.

The  link to the paper is here.

My dear appa!

Dear Appa!

I wanted to store my column written  for  world book day on my blog....suddenly I remembered how I write less about my love for loved ones. All the letters & words in English language are not enough to express my love for loved ones illaya pa? I am so protective about you all, that you & Amma often tell me my love chokes you all. So you know I have never made posts for father's day or mother's day or whatever day. But I have shared a few anecdotes & you have also read my blog posts. I scrolled back to read the post I wrote about all you men folk of our family.  I remember I got a Bottle green T- shirt  with ' 'soldier for women' written over it. It was one less size tight T-shirt & yet you proudly wore it telling everyone about the blog post.

Appa, you know words fail me, but I have so many anecdotes to share. I can't write about you in the past tense dear Appa, I am tearing up. 

One  of  my biggest fear of my life is losing you appa. You know what a sensitive person I am & I would be shattered to pieces if ever I lost you. But,you prepared me for the eventuality yet you were stronger & active till the last hour.

Appa, I will not  frame you in a photograph as our relatives & friends suggest.  I will not garland you appa, you will live with me in spirit.

You were a lovely role model who was always flexible , & adapted to changes easily so much so that you were comfortable with people across all ages , one can find you playing cricket with kids on the street as well as talking to old people & comforting them in their homes or with young men & women. You shared such a beautiful rapport with your grand children, teasing, playing , guiding them and you would wish them teacher's day as they taught you to handle mobiles & gadgets. You would Pride in your children's & grandchildren's talent so much so that my kids would tease me. I chuckle whenever I think of 'Edward Iyer'.

While tears welled up, Did you notice appa, I stood a proud girl beside you ,when people paid glowing tributes to you as selfless, generous, people's person, friendly, adaptable,helping tendency 'jaasti' but all people shared one common thing that you would never let go of whoever visits home without giving them to eat or drink, and you would make them yourself many a time .. & much much more with anecdotes.  Many people tell how they  were inspired by  you to take up a career in Sales , Marketing & people management because of you. Many talk of how you got them their career breaks.  generally people say glowing things after people pass away, I was surprised when all friends, neighbors took leave from work, pitched in to help and ensured smooth  functioning of rituals, till yesterday's 13th day.

Appa, I am so glad you helped me & your younger one to conduct the rituals comfortably. I will not miss you,we are from the same gene pool & we miss only those  whom we  lose. you will bewithme in spirit , while you are happy on the other side of rainbow with your parents & elders and I sure will look for you amongst the stars till we meet again.

Your words to me when I argue with you while you dole out things was 'Dharmam thalai kaakum' & ' oorar veetu kozhandail valartha than kuzhandai thaana valarum'. ( Something like you rise while you lift others)

Everyone says I already have inherited your values like punctuality, being organised, munkovam (anger) , will try to be like you appa in helping , feeding others, donating  & in generosity.  you will guide me dear appa


Always your
Kutty

Call of the Lord !

We all know Shiva, from whom Yoga originated, the first Guru of Yoga, Adiyogi, symbolizes the balancing and calming effect of all Yoga practices.

Yoga as a spiritual practice rests upon building the Shiva consciousness of the awareness and bliss.

On the night of Mahashivratri, as a yoga  practitioner & spiritual seeker, I recall my tryst  with the Lord.  #Don'tYawnTillDawn

The below article was written for & first appeared Financial Express dated 21 Feb.

There are times in our life when we plan much, and work hard but things don’t fall in 

place and then there are times when things effortlessly fall in place. Our recent trip to 

Sringeri in Western ghats was one such. It was not in our itinerary when we left home, 

but the spiritual monastery beckoned us and we drove from Chikmagalur through the 

hairpin bends flanked by scenic coffee estates to Sringeri.

 It was sheer grace that we had a comfortable vision of the beautiful deity of 

Sharadamba and other shrines within the complex. After the darshan, we were heading 

towards the exit to our room, suddenly my children decided to take a look at River 

Tunga. We walked by the beautiful 14th century Vidyashankara temple and reached the 

bridge over the river. Soaking the beauty of the moonlit river under the star-spangled 

sky, we walked on the bridge aimlessly in silence not knowing where we were heading. 

We saw a handful of men in traditional wear of dhoti and a few women in nine yards 

saree walking ahead of us. We followed them on the bridge into the woody orchard 

Narsimhavana and saw it opening into the portico of Guru Nivas. Traditionally dressed 

devotees, less than 100 in number, were seated in a well- lit hall. Unknowingly, we had 

walked into the home, where the spiritual head, His Holiness Bharati Theertha Swamiji

was to begin a pooja in a few minutes.

 What followed after that was one of the most divine experiences I have had in recent 

times. It was a surreal feeling to watch the Chandramouleeswara pooja in the night to 

the invigorating Vedic chants by the young students of the Vedic school. The 

Chandramouleeswara is a crystal linga, the principal idol of worship not only in Sringeri 

but also the other monasteries — Badri, Dwaraka, and Puri established by Adi 

Shankara. Legend has it that this spatika linga along with the other three was handed 

over by Lord Shiva himself to Adi Shankara, who in turn gave to his 4 disciples, one of 

whom was Mandana Misra, his first disciple and the first Acharya of the Sringeri Mutt. 

Since then, the linga has been propitiated by the various Acharyas who have adorned 

the peetams and what I saw was the pooja performed by the present Acharya, a 

renowned scholar, the 36th in the line of Guru Parampara. The ambience, the rhythmic 

chants, the vibrations I felt here are inexplicable. 

After the pooja when we crossed over the river bridge, I felt I was charged with supreme 

bliss. It is what one calls as a spiritual moment that has to be internalized. Spiritual can 

mean many things to many, it is a broad concept with room for many perspectives, as in 

connecting with the self, the supreme, blissful solitude, a belief that tells you to give up 

your anger, ego, hate and many more.

Though temples are God’s abode, there are a few temples where one has that feeling. 

The older the temple, the more such intangible feeling. I sense such vibes in a few 

ancient temples which are built according to Agamic principles (temple architecture). 

Here I would like to recall a visit to an old temple again by default.

One of my favourite travel routes is the Thanjavur-Trichy belt in Southern Tamil Nadu. 

The numerous criss-crossing canals and the tributaries of River Cauvery which 

meander around the little villages adorned with lush green fields are a sight to behold. 

The river banks are home to many world heritage sites like the Brihadeeswarar temple, 

Gangaikonda Cholapuram, Darasuram etc., 

I have often traveled this route and each time I visit, I am enriched. It was during one 

such travel, on the main road from Kumbakonam to Thanjavur, we found a temple arch 

with 108 Shiva temple written on it. Intrigued, we stopped by the temple. At first glance, 

it didn’t seem like a big temple and did not have a ‘tall temple tower’ characteristic of the 

other temples in the region. We walked into the temple and saw the main deity named 

Ramalinga Swamy, another one called Hanumathlingam and the rest of the 106 lingams 

were in 3 rows.

The temple priest in the unpretentious temple where only we were the devotees said 

that worshipping Lord Shiva here would remove one of all sins, hence the name of the 

place, Papanasam. 

He went on to tell the sthala puranam (history of the place). Lord Rama, after 

worshipping at Rameswaram to ward off the evil effects of killing Ravana, found the sins 

were still following him due to the killing of Kara and Dhooshana in the war. He 

instructed Lord Hanuman to bring one Shivalinga from Kashi. Since it got delayed, 

Rama and Sita themselves collected sand from nearby river Kudamurutty (a branch of 

Cauvery) and made 107 Shiva lingams under a vilva tree. Meanwhile, Hanuman 

brought the Shivalinga, it was named Hanumanlinga. Thus the total lingas numbered 

108. This place is also called Keezh Rameswaram and possibly the only ancient place 

in the world where 108 big separate lingams are present in one place. It is believed that 

one’s wish is realized if one circumambulates the outer praharam by 108 times and 

during Mahashivarathri nearly 10,000 people circumambulate this temple. 

The idols in ancient temple built according to agama shastra are said to have esoteric 

power due to chantings than the newly constructed designer temples. One need not be 

spiritual or a theist to visit such temples, but if one loves history, art, heritage, 

architecture, such temples will be deeply appreciated.

The link is here. 

(Will adjust alignment when I touch my base)

Stop and smell the roses!

Valentine's day - some company decided to sell their greeting cards and the idea turned into a good business......seriously, it has done our economy well.

The below article was first published in Financial express dated 12 feb,2020


Stop and smell the roses – I literally follow this age old good advice when I travel to Hosur via Bangalore or Salem. Every time I travel this route, I stop by the many rose farms and poly houses, to soak in the beauty of every whorl and colour of the beautiful roses. The gardeners and farmers are very warm and welcoming. Each time I stop by, we share conversations, they invite us home for lunch or offer a glass of butter milk. They are also very generous to give me bonus in the form of a rose plant, tomatoes, chayote, Brinjals or whatever they grow.


Hosur is a little historical, industrial and agricultural town in the state of Tamil Nadu. A very humble town which is not proud of its various honours, perhaps the reason it is not so popular.  All around the town if you observe, you will find historical and archaeological evidences that pre-dates this town to 2000 years. During Sangam-age it was called ‘Muraasu nadu’ and ruled by King Adiyamaan, the King who gave gooseberry to Tamil poetess Avaiyaar to prolong her life. The Cholas, Rajputs, Nayaks, Hoysalas, British East India during Lord Cornwallis time, Tipu sultan and many more have ruled this place.


This town is home to many small scale and large scale industries producing automobile bodies, automotive spares, high precision aero parts, watches, bio-tech, agriculture, tissue culture, pharmaceuticals and many more. A place which cannot be classified as a 'laid back' town or a 'hyper-active' town, It takes a middle path. From what I have observed generally, people here have the approach of ‘Work while you work, play while you play’. Maybe because majority of them have jobs with 9-5 schedules in Industries unlike many MNCs which work across different time zones.


One of its prime revenue generator is through its horticulture and floriculture exports. Hosur soil is said to be very fertile and ideal to grow European vegetables like broccoli, carrot, beets, bell peppers, asparagus etc. This is possible not only because of the fertile soil but also because this place is elevated 3000ft above sea level and thus enjoys a compatible and salubrious climate, all round the year. The weather is the reason why the Britishers called this place as “India’s Little England” during their rule. Tons of vegetables are exported to other parts of the country and this town also houses prime floriculture companies.

Many agri-export companies based here have their project sites around the main town like Denkanikottai, Bagalur, Thally etc. They breed, cultivate and export flowers like carnation, lilies, gerbera and the world famous valentine red rose called ‘Taj Mahal’. This variety created by a rose breeder in Holland is patented and cultivated in Hosur. It is a deep red budded rose with long stalk and big leaves. Another rose by name ‘Kohinoor’ which is a baby orange-pink rose is also cultivated here. The main markets for these flowers are Europe, Australia, The Middle East and Japan. The valentine rose was patented in 2009 and the exports have been doubled, tripled and some years they dip too.


Talking to a rose grower, in Bagalur (near Hosur), who was growing the Damask rose popularly called ‘Paneer rose’, said he also grows cassandra, chrysanthemum, marigold, tuberose for domestic and international markets. The flowers he grows are auctioned in the famous Hosur flower markets to retailers where they reach homes for daily pooja or special occasions like wedding. 


But with passage of time, flowers have gone beyond decorating gods, sacred spaces and many other places. They now decorate office establishments, living rooms, as gifts etc. He said growing flowers now is a highly competitive industry. With introduction of new techniques, cultivators now grow and develop new flowers which leads to change in the trend of consumers. The new generation employ modern technology, maximise the production and offer better quality of flowers and thereby, a better price. He said the developed cut flowers like the valentine roses are grown in poly houses under controlled conditions. The buds are covered with netted bud caps so their shape  remains in the bud form. Their petals are also thick so that they can withstand long distance travels. The flowers grown here travel in refrigerated vans to Bangalore and then are airlifted to various countries like Amsterdam, Germany, Abu Dhabi, Singapore, Australia etc. Recently, an Intellectual property attorney has also applied for GI tag for the “Hosur roses”.



As I type this looking at the rose plant in my balcony garden; the subtle fragrance, its rich colour and artistry of whorls reminds of Emperor Jahangir’s quote “No other scent of equal excellence…It lifts the spirit and refreshes the soul”.

So the next time you happen to pass this route, do stop by to smell the roses - a soothing balm for city souls. If lucky, you could also relish the refreshing buttermilk, enjoy a lively conversation and also carry home a lovely rose plant to adorn your garden along with some fragrant memories

The link to the article is here 

An ancient festival to honor & thank nature

Pongal or Indra vizha. Another of my column which I happily wrote when Swapna  requested. Thanks again for trusting me , Swapna. This was written for  & was first published in financial express. Here goes,

Pongal – An ancient festival to honor and thank Nature

Soaking in the beautiful view of the Western Ghats during our annual family road trip to

Agumbe, this winter vacation, I stopped by a farm land to pick up a few golden-hued rice stalks for dry décor. One of the farmers who was harvesting, generously gave me a few stalks and refused to take any money in return. The small talk I had with him made me realize farming is physically and mentally demanding with minimal returns. It also depends on handling uncertainties like weather and pests. So, when their toil yields, their first harvest is to the visible god, Mother Nature in the form of the thanksgiving festival — Pongal.

Origin

Most of us who grew up in cities with no village connection have not witnessed the real “Pongal” and it's festive vibes. The celebrations are rooted and followed ritually in the rural homes. Pongal in Tamizh means ‘overflow’. This festival dates back to the Sangam age when forms of nature were revered by man. Social Historians say, Pongal was referred as “Indra Vizha” in the ancient Chola sea port of Poompuhaar which is considered the birthplace of the festival.

Bhogi -The first day of the multi day festival is Bhogi Pongal. All things old are disposed and are burnt outside the house in a bonfire suggesting the end of the old and birth of the new. Houses are cleaned, whitewashed and decorated with first cut of paddy, mango leaves and kolams. This day Lord Indra, the rain god, is honoured whose other name is 'Bhogi’ . The festive spread for the day is payasam, vada and Puran poli along with the regular menu. Spiritually, this day defines that it is not enough to clean externally alone but, one has to clean the mind by burning old bad habits or thoughts and take a firm resolve to tread the path of love and purity.

Surya Pongal -The second day, the main day is Surya Pongal, thanksgiving to the Sun god and beginning of Tamizh month, Thai. The Sun enters the sign of Capricorn (Makara), marking end of winter and the arrival of spring. On this day, Chakkara Pongal (sweet) and Ven Pongal (spiced rice) are made with freshly harvested rice in a mud pot (pongu paanai) cooked on a mud stove (aduppu) in open courtyard where the whole family gathers. The neck of the pot is tied with turmeric and ginger plants, signifying auspiciousness and spice of life respectively. On either side of the pot two fully grown sugarcane plants are kept to signify the arrival of sweetness in life. When the cooked rice broth overflows out of the pot, it is called ‘Pongal’ (Tamizh for overflowing). The overflowing represents abundance and rich harvest. In joy, the people gathered around the pot unite and shout ‘Pongal-O-Pongal’. Some also chant the‘Aditya Hrudayam’ and do Surya Namaskar to the Sun God. To  accompany the pongal, a tangy spicy dish called ‘Ezhu Thaan Kootu’ (7 vegetable stew) is made of 7 seasonal native vegetables. The landlord distributes food, clothes, and money among the labourers who work for him. By being generous, sharing and treating workers well he, in turn, earns their loyalty and love. A noble act which should be our ideal at all times not just on Pongal, one of the key take aways from the festival.

Spiritually, the Sun itself symbolises all that the Pongal festival stands for. The message of light, unity, and impartiality. Without the Sun, life would perish on earth. It is regular in its work, and never claims any recognition. If we imbibe these virtues, we shall shine with equal divine lustre! The Sun joyously turns northward (Utttarayan) and moves towards us shedding light, warmth and infuses more life and energy.

Mattu pongal -The third day, Mattu Pongal, is to pay our thanks to the cow, revered as the mother of the universe. The cow is decorated, the horns are painted in vibrant colours. Mixed rice like lemon rice, coconut rice, and curd rice are made along with aviyal (vegetable medley in coconut gravy), and vadams(fryums). These dishes are arranged into a picnic hamper and carried to feast on the beaches, river banks or any picnic spots. Outing events like this helps in forging bonds between people. In the southern districts of Tamil Nadu, a bull taming contest called ‘Jalli kattu' is organized where strong men compete in taming a violent bull. If he tames the bull, he gets the prize money tied to the horns of the bull.

The sibling festival of ‘Kanu’ is also celebrated on this day. Sisters pray for the well-being of their brothers. Sisters wake up early and place leftovers of the previous day’s food (they prepare in excess for this purpose) on turmeric leaves for the crows and birds to eat. They offer prayers that their family should be united like the flock of birds.

The festival in essence helps the whole universe find a place in one’s heart gradually during the course of the celebrations. First, by embracing family and friends with long arms, then the servants and the poor, then the cow, and then all other living creatures which live united in flocks like birds.

The rituals and traditions may have twisted with time, we still do them repeatedly adding new dimensions, but the essence is the same.

 Let this season bring change for good and bonds of sweetness and peace prevail everywhere. 

The link to the article in Financial express dated 14 Jan 2020 is here

Kolam connotations

The below article was exclusively written &was  first published in Financial Express . At the end of the post is the link.

This Margazhi morning sent me into a state of nostalgia as I drew a simple ezhai kolam in my apartment corridor. It brought back all those fond times and tiny tales told to me by family elders during various functions where all women in the family used to get together and make beautiful patterns -- a memory I hold close to my heart.

In the Indian state of Tamil Nadu, kolam is a traditional practice that defines the culture in the form of a visual map made using the basic elements of design – dots and lines. 

Kolam, in its traditional context, is said to drawn to announce auspiciousness and that all-is-well in the household while its absence implies otherwise. Drawing kolams signifies that Goddess Lakshmi is welcomed; while her sister Mudevi, who is believed to bring poverty, illness, laziness, and bad luck, is banished. 

Much before the break of dawn (Brahmamuhurtham), many women with a prayer on their lips, clean the door front by sprinkling water on mother earth and draw kolams with rice powder. The rice powder serves as food for the ants, insects, birds and is said to be equivalent to feeding thousands of living beings (Sahasra bhojanam). Also by bending and stretching while putting kolams, one exercises their body and absorbs the ozone in the atmosphere which is abundant in the wee hours. 

So many more layered meanings, stories, and beliefs are credited to this creative art besides its traditional resonance when viewed through multiple lenses.

The art of kolam is as old as the Indus valley civilization and dates back to the Mahabharata. It is said that the gopikas drew this to drown their sorrows when their beloved Lord Krishna was away.

While some historians believe that kolams were designed by shore dwellers, as the arrangement of stars helped them to venture into the sea. These dwellers replicated celestial designs of the constellations on the threshold of their homes. Prime constellations like Orion and Leo were said to represent Lord Shiva and Goddess Shakti respectively.Some also say that the dots in the kolam represent the male and the lines denote the female. These also have a symbolic value in representing the basic energies of the universe. In kolams, no dot is left unconnected or hanging. Folklore has it that these closed patterns prevent evil forces from entering the homes.

Drawing a kolam involves 6 sets of mathematical skills -- counting, identifying, measuring, designing, experimenting and explaining. To make a perfect kolam, one needs to keep a count of the dots, the vertices, arcs, and lines while forming those beautiful patterns.Whatever the history or story, this floor art which is a hand-me-down from one generation to another comes only with practice. The continuous fall of powder between the thumb and forefinger is an art that is a test to your creativity. Many patterns and designs are born on the spur of the moment with Mother Earth as a canvas.

Every celebration has a set of unique kolam designs ascribed to it. For special occasions, maa-kolams are created with wet rice flour. A small cloth is dipped into wet rice flour and; the thumb, forefinger and the middle finger act as a free-flowing ink pen nibs to form a smooth continuous evenly drawn semi-permanent kolam.

This week when my mother and aunt visited me, I sat down with them to perfect my kolam techniques, a follow-up on my wish of perfecting the maa-kolam this Margazhi. A few more of weeks of practice and I think I’ll be close to making those beautiful patterns that will adorn my Instagram feed soon.

The online link of the article is here .

 Storing it just incase it gets lost like various other articles. Thanks dear Swapna.