Fashion : Dumb and Dumber

Came across this photograph of one of our celebrities , doesnt matter who, emerging from a lunch at some kind of posh place in Bandra. 

What boggled the mind is the extent to which anything passes of as fashion today, so long as some show business type in the west does it and you ape it.

We have such wonderful fabrics, and varieties of traditional and modern outfits worn in wonderful ways.  And this is clearly a slap on the face.

Perhaps as a friend  mentioned,  "Trying to empathise with those who can't afford to wear clothes which are not torn . That's in thing today -"

Odd way to show empathy.  If cut properly, you can make 2 kids pants out of these jeans.  Just saying ...

In fact if I were the kid in the foto, a few years later I would be mortified to see this.   But wait. Perhaps , there will be a kids version of torn , shredded pants..." 

कधी काळी अथक परिश्रम, घामाच्या धारा , एक वेळचेच जेवण, कंदिलात अभ्यास , दोनच कपडे आणि रात्री धुऊन ते पुन्हा घालणे , शिवणी घालून रफ़ू करून वापरणे , ह्या सगळ्यामुळे आयुष्यात पुढे येणे , शिकणे , आणि चांगले दिवस बघणे � ह्याला प्रगती/उन्नती म्हणायचे. आता मुद्दाम महागड्या चांगल्या कपड्याना कात्री लावणे, त्याच्यावर डाग पाडणे, लोम्बती लक्तरे घालून, एखाद्या वडापावला कोणाच्या तरी आठवड्याच्या अन्नखर्चा इतकी किंमत मोजणे , आणि "जरा सरकून घेणार का " असे ऐकल्यावर "व्वा! "सरकून"? नवीन वाईन का ?" असे उत्तर देणे , याला उन्नती म्हणतात . � खरं खोटं �माहित नाही, पण कोणाच्या तरी डोक्यात लक्तरे उदंड झाली आहेत ...

Stupid me. At one point progress was all about intense effort, endless perspiration, affording one meal-a-day, studying by candlelight, owning just 2 pairs of clothes, washing them at night, mending and darning them, and then one day, finishing your education, learning values, and coming up in the world . Today, it is about , deliberately cutting good clothes, creating spots on them, wearing them with torn pieces hanging down , eating in posh places paying the equivalence of someones weekly food expense, for a proletarian Vada Pao, and when someone says , in Mumabi Train lingo, "Jara Sarkun Ghenaar ka ?" ** they answer, "OOOOH! Is that the new wine ? "... Very clearly, someone's cortex appears to be overflowing with torn and shredded neurons ripping at the synapse. .

**"Jara 'Sarkun' Ghenaar ka ?" Literally translated as "Will you have a bit of Sarkun?", but is actually a typical phrase used by those who travel in Mumbai's supercrowded suburban trains, and end up asking folks sitting in a 3 seater bench, to move a little and create marginal space for a fourth person; anything to rest a tired body ..."Can you shift a bit ?"

कडधान्यांचे ऑलिम्पिक ...

माझी मैत्रीण , कर्काळ , कर्नाटक, येथे राहणारी , शची फडके , हिने परवा हा खालील फोटो पोस्ट केला , आणि सर्वांना ओळखायला सांगितले. 

प्रथम दर्शनी  एखाद्या सागरी प्राण्यासारखा दिसणारा हा पदार्थ ,  प्राणी तर नव्हताच.  मग सगळ्यांना आलेले मोड दिसले , आणि तरी कुठले कडधान्य ते कळेना  ! 

गौप्य्स्फोट !  हे मोडे आलेले कुळीथ आहेत !  भिजवून, चाळणीतून काढून, एका स्वच्छ  फडक्यात  घट्ट बांधून एका उबदार ठिकाणी ठेवल्यावर , मोडाना  स्फुरण चढते, आणि कशालाही न जुमानता ते  विजय पुकारत सूक्ष्मत सूक्ष्म जागांतून जणू पदकं घेऊन बाहेर पडतात .  

तरीच. कोणाची तरी प्रेरणा असणारच ..... 

 

सिंधू, दीपा आणि अदिती
यांच्या पासून प्रेरणा घेऊन ,
अथक परिश्रम करून,
समाजाच्या, चाळणीच्या आणि
विवध फडक्यांच्या अन्याय्य अपेक्षांना
धीराने तोंड देऊन ,
चमकदार खेळी करून,
फेअर आणि लव्हली फडक्याला
उत्कृष्ट प्रकारे हरवून ,
सुवर्ण पदक मिळवणारे
कुळीथाचे  मोड !

ता . क. कुळीथाच्या  जागी मसूर, चवळी , वाल  असले तरी सुवर्णपदक ग्यारंटीड आहे

Udta Batman.....

It is a  truth, universally acknowledged, that constantly running with handlewala wooden pieces between 22 yards, might inculcate , in the concerned sports persons,  a desperate urge to break out and run miles, fling javelins,  shoot targets,  kick balls, heave hefty balls with bare hands, leap over hurdles, wrestle with sledging opponents, and perhaps do somersaults over bars instead of on the green. 

Perhaps, in this photograph below ,  our Cricket Capt.  Kool ,  is trying to send a message. 

(I always thought there was too much cricket going on , anyway......)

They leap,
They tumble,
They run,
They jump
They dive,
They crash,
They slide,
They swing,
They fling,
They spin
(though not themselves)...

Perhaps it indicates
an inborn desire
to Olympisize.

Here is a javelin throw
by someone
considered Captain Cool .

And the red cherry,
hanging around near the
stumps,
nudges the bails ,
and says ,
"Aiiyo ! Udtaa "Bat"man dekh"!

The willow ,
with that stiff upper lip,
weeps.

A "Jaata" goes to London जातं निघालं लंडनला

While most of us today consider readymade flours as a sign of development , and some visit chakkis where the flour gets heated under heavy duty grinding, there are some like my friend Preeti Deo,  who realize how there is an optimum ideal speed at which grains which are being ground, give their nutritional best .

Most of us have seen these grinding wheel sets (called  जातं) in our houses in our childhood.  Preeti just got one made especially for her, of a size easy to transport in a bag, across the seas. It isn't easy. (Ask me. I didn't fly, but lugged a huge chutney stone belonging to my mother's kitchen, in a shoulder bag, by train from Pune, and thence by a crowded Central Railway second class local train. Years ago. )

It takes a lot of will,  scheduling abilities , and  belief in traditional methods to do all this.   Preeti has a lot of that, and here's wishing her the very best of fulkas, bhakris, modaks, thalipeeths , dhirdees , etc  !

Sometimes , it also results in verse.

  

PC : Preeti Deo

राणीच्या देशातले गहू न राहवून, बंद पिशवीतून बाहेर पडायच्या प्रचंड प्रयत्नात , चण्याची डाळ फणकारून ज्वारी तांदूळ लोकांना बजावून क्यू मध्ये येण्याची आठवण करते , आणि नाचणी, वरी, राजगिरा मंडळी "मेरा नंबर कब आयेगा ?" च्या अविर्भावात फळीवर उभी . जगात , पहिल्यांदाच , लेडी प्रीती-इन-वेटिंग, च्या सामानातून टाकीचा ठोके-मुकुट लाऊन "महाराणी जाते" चा समुद्रापलीकडे प्रवास आणि जरूर पडल्यास हिथ्रोला वापरायला एक दांडा . पूर्वी लोक प्रायश्चित्त करायची. आता तर मेतकूट , भाजणी आणि कुळथाचं पीठ करतात..... !

Tory grains of wheat, (the farmers are the Labour Party), straining at the edge of a bag, to emerge and rush in; A bossy Chana Daal bullying the Jowar and Rice grains and forcing them to come in a queue; and then the proletarian millets, Barnyard, Finger and Amaranth, patiently waiting their turn on a kitchen shelf. For the first time, in the world, a "Jaata" Stone Grinder Wheel, after its Coronation, with a Taki Crown, making its way to the UK, with the Lady-in-Waiting, Lady Preeti. An official Danda, joins them, for use at Heathrow if needed. Thousands of moons ago, those travelling thus had to perform penance to atone for their travel . Today , they simply perform miracles like Metkut,Bhaajani, and Kuleeth Peeth ....

Lord of the Churnings and Flutes....

My friend Shilpa Karkare , lives in a 200 year old house , in the midst of the wild Kokan greens at Tural , near Sangamaeshwar, close to Ratnagiri. The house has been carefully preserved and lived in , and she is currently putting up photos of original household implements and utensils , used by her ancestors.  She calls this the "Old is Gold"  display.  

The homestead is also home to Rustic Holidays Homestays, which welcomes visitors to come and experience Life in Kokan, with local community participation, traditional foods and customs.

The picture below is of a traditional buttermilk churning system, where a rope system, is alternately pulled by a person, and it churns the Mathni (big wooden ravi/churner) within a big earthenware pot that contains a rich dahi . The kitchen platforms of old, were below knee level.  I have seen such in my childhood, before the advent of waist level platforms, ergonomic analysis, modular kitchens and mixers/blenders. 

While we only hear the electric whirling speed noises today, the music of the churning takes one back to a gentle sound of a Flute playing somewhere.

Where ? Read on .....

कोणी म्हणतं कोकणच्या हिरवाईत पावसाळ्यात वारा उंडारला कि मुरलीचं संगीत कानावर पडतं .. सैपाकघराच्या एका कोनाड्यात पृथ्वीच्या आकाराच्या विशाल मटक्यात स्थानापन्न झालेले एक सायसंपन्न दही, लाजत तोंडाशी घुटमळणारी एक सशक्त लाकडी रवी, आणि " अग, हो तू पुढे , मी आहे ना मदतीला " म्हणत तिच्या भोवताली कौतुकाने फिरणारी दोरी . दही रवीची भेट , उचंबळून एकत्र येणं , कोणा एका जाणकार स्त्री ने दोरी ओढत, थोडे पाणी घालून रवीला दह्यात गर्गरून दिलेल्या गिरक्या , " जा , ताकाई जा , कढी-धिरडी-उकड-मट्ठानकडे सुखी राहा " असं म्हणत आपले विधिलिखित स्वीकारून लोणी रूपात तरंगत आलेली साय, आणि मग हळूच "ये हो, घर तुझेच आहे " म्हणत तिला कुणा एका युवतीने नाजूकपणे उचलून घेणे , आणि सटात ठेवणे ..... विश्वात विहारणारा मुरलीधर , विजेची फिरणारी आणि फिरवणारी यंत्र , स्टीलची पातेली, अल्लुमिनियम चे घडे आणि प्लास्टिक बघून , एक दीर्घ श्वास घेतो , आणि कोकणच्या दिशेने मार्गी होतो. तिथे गोपी नसल्या तरी शिल्पा असते , आणि मग तो आनंदाने कोकणच्या हिरवाईत रममाण होतो आणि ओठाला मुरली लावतो. म्हणतात न , कोकणच्या हिरवाईत पावसाळ्यात वारा उंडारला कि मुरलीचं संगीत कानावर पडतं ..

Some say that when the monsoon wind wanders wild through the Kokan Forest Greens, one can hear the Music of the Flute.  And then, in a wide corner of an old Kokan kitchen, a rich fat-filled dahi sitting complacent in a rotund earthy matkaa , a pure wooden churner, a slim but tough MathNee , shyly loitering at its mouth , hesitating, only to have a a flexiwrapping rope wrap herself around her several times saying " Go ahead, go in, I am here to help ...." And then the preordained meeting of the Dahi and MathNee, a tumultuous explosion as they churn in joy; the lady of the house, pulls the ropes  and adds water to help them along. The newborn butter, floating to the surface, as Dahi blesses it, wishing the Lady buttermilk Godspeed as she makes her way to a life of Kadhi, Dhirda, Ukad and Matthaa. A quiet cupping of dainty palms, a heartfelt invite to come home, and the Butter rests outside in a porcelain bowl after a tiring birth. The Fluteplaying Lord, pervading across the Universe, disdainfully notices the electric churners, the steel, the aluminum, the plastic, and takes a deep breath before getting back to his Kokan Forest Greens. The Gopis are not there, but Shilpa is ; and he smiles, and puts the flute to his lips. Like some say, when the monsoon wind wanders wild through the Kokan Forest Greens, one can hear the Music of the Flute.