Tomato Saar in the time of Sant Kabir....

Very  few people today remember things like chutney stones, embedded stone paddy threshers in house floors, and the winnowing "soop" (सूप)) used in our time for separating the grain and the chaff.  Fewer folks today, even know how to use these, and so it was with particular joy that I read this post by by my friend Shruti Nargundkar from Melbourne.

Please read her post,  to learn what folks of my generation learned before blenders and processors drove all the fun out of it.  ( I still have an inherited chutney stone, and winnowing fan)

  Only she could have woven in  the winnowing "soop",  with the "soup" ,  and a recipe for a  robust tomato desi soup or saar , with the Dohas of Sant Kabir ringing in the background.

“Saadhu aisa chahiye, jaisa soop subhay

Saar saar ko gahi rahe, thotha de udaay”

or  

" साधू ऐसा चाहिए , जैसा सूप सुभाय !
सार-सार को गहि रहे , थोथ देइ उडाय!!

Aah. I always knew there was something spiritual about soup.   In Marathi and English too ....

काही द्वाड खेळकर उपद्व्यापी थंडीने गाल लाल झालेली पसारा करणारी मुलं, विनव्ण्याकरून दमलेली तेलात क्षणभर विश्रांती घेणारी कांदे आई , तडकून डोळे वटारणारे तिखट रागात गाणारे मिरची बाबा , आणि मंद दरवळत सोनेरी स्वप्न एकिकडे बघणारी लसूण आत्या; सगळी गडबड ऐकून धावत येणारी शेजारची जिरी आणि मिरी , आणि ह्या सर्वाना आयुष्याच्या सुपात घालून तरग्णार्या सर्व शंका बुडबुडे काढून हवेत उडवणारी जादू व्हायची वाट बघणार्या आपले अनेक शुभाशिर्वाद त्यात कौतुकाने ओतणार्या नारळीदूध आजी . बरोबर कबिरांचे दोहे आणि श्रुतीचे पोहे . साधु ऐसा चाहिए , जो सिखाये सबको सुविचार , मूंग दाल खिचड़ी , पोहा पापड और टोमेटो का सार।

Tough games in the cold and cheeks reddened, shoving each other to the side, an Onion Mater, all gone to pieces and taking a breather, resigned and simmering in hot oil, a sharp and hot tempered Mirchi Dad, bursting in anger, and his sister, the aunt, Lasoni Tai Garliki, exhaling quietly in golden tadka fragrance. The The Cumin Peppera Madames rushing to be part of it all, and a wise Grandma, full of the Milk of Coconut Kindness, waiting to allow all kinds of unwanted agitating boiling debris foam to resolve things, before pouring her heart into it all. A side offering of Sant Kabir ke Dohe, and Shruti's Pohe... "A Holy man should be like a winnowing fan, keeping the good grain, and shoving the chaff afar; Very clearly, it is time for Moong Dal Khichdi, Poha Papad, and Tomato Saar".

Grass Soliloquies.....एका हिरवळीचे मनोगत

Some pictures posted by friends often emphasize a universal truth.  Young ones are born with an intrinsic love  and respect for  nature.  They don't need "special days", projects and labels. And there is nothing "on show"....

Just wondering how great it must be to be the Green Grass in this picture !

एका हिरवळीचे मनोगत …. काही येतात मशीन चालवतात , आणि म्हणतात , "आता कसं ! व्यवस्थित दिसतं ना सर्व ?" आणि निघून जातात …. काही येतात , कुठली कुठली जमिनीतली भोकं शोधतात , मग लांब जाउन एका दणकट काठीने चेंडू उडवतात , आणि मग चालत चालत नाहीतर रिक्क्षा सारख्या गाडीत बसून चेडू शोधतात , नाहीतर दुसरे खड्डे शोधायला जातात; माझ्या पाठीत किती लागतं , माहित्ये का ? पण कधीतरी दिवस सोनियाचा असतो, मंद वारा साद घालत असतो, दवबिंदू कोवळ्या उन्हात नट्टापट्टा करत असतात , आणि दोन बाळं माझ्यावर रेलून कानगोष्टी करत मजेत हसत असतात; मग कधीतरी ती आडवी होतात, लोळतात , खेळतात , आणि मला कळून चुकतं, कि हिरवळ म्हणून अश्या क्षणांसाठी जगायचं असतं .....

Grass Soliloquies.....   Some arrive with machines and drone across grumbling, finishing up and saying, "There ! That's how neat it should be!" as they rattle off. And some, seek holes in the ground, only to trundle a distance away, and then whack a ball with a hefty stick; then walk around or ride around once again searching for balls or holes. Does anyone realize how those whacks hurt ? But then some days are Golden days, with a soft breeze floating around, and dew drops preen in the early Sun; Two babies, with their own secrets, stories and fun, leaning on me whispering, laughing and nodding, and suddenly rolling around gambolling on me. These are quite simply, the days that I feel grateful that I am a lawn .....

Your Daily Soap....

Sometimes, the simplest of everyday stuff inspires a poem. My friend Amit Amembal,  recently posted a photograph on how worn out soaps get a new life in their old age, when they are stuck onto the younger soaps. 

It doesn't matter if the soap has changed color.  Old is always gold.   And it must always be an honor for the new ones  to do this.  

It is a life philosophy.  Now in Marathi and English .....

एक दुसर्यांसाठी कण खण झिजणारे आयुष्य , कुणा एकाचे तन स्वच्छता अभियान लढवण्यात घालवलेली आयुष्याची संध्याकाळ, आणि पाण्यात पट्कन विर्घळ्नारि स्वप्न… आणि अचानक एक धडधाकट व्यक्तिमत्वाचे आगमन, मुलासमान त्यांनी घेतलेली काळजी "मी आहे, माझ्याबरोबर रहा …." असे म्हणून शेजारी बसवणे , आणि मग पुन्हा पहिल्यासारखा हुरूप येउन स्वच्छता अभियान लढवणे … अजून आपल्याकडे ज्येष्ठांचा आदर होतो, बघून बर वाटलं.....

A dissipating energy, the evening of  life spent scrubbing the sins and spots of so many, and watching so many dreams dissolve into nothingness. And suddenly, an extended hand, of one who adopts and becomes a healthy son, reassuring , as he says, "Don't worry, I am there....", and once again, it is back to a dedicated scrubbing life.... Happy to know that there is so much respect for seniors in a soapy world....

The MahaDiet Wars Circa 2014

When someone who is a walking, talking, driving, encyclopedia on popular Food places and traditional foods across Maharashtra, is faced with spending time at the Nature Cure set-up  , Nisargopchar Ashram at Uralikanchan, a haven for simple sattvic food,   and an  ayurvedic lifestyle, anything can happen.

An initial acceptance, then slow seeds of intolerance, a desperate  pining for Spices,
and a harking back to the "Good" food days. 

All this in a running war with the Satvik Food Party.... 

But these are nor ordinary Mahabharata wars.

They are  the Uralikanchan Diet Wars.

And the possibility of a Diet Geeta emerging did exist.  For a while at least....

Read on .

सन २०१४ मध्ये उरळीकांचन येथे झालेले महा आहार्युद्ध … एकीकडे गांधीयन तत्वांशी एकनिष्ठ राहून लढणार्या नाचणीच्या भाकरया , स्वच्छ चेहेर्याच्या बिनामेकप्च्या कोबीबाई , फेर आणि लवली न लावता नम्रपणे एकीकडे पानात बसणार्या फ्लावरा बेन , ताटक्षेत्रात विखुरलेल्या, साधे पणाची शपथ घेतलेल्या तोंडल्या, आणि अचानक आलेले कडु काढ्याचे पोट वादळ …. इकडे मिठाचा विरह सहन न झाल्यामुळे मसाले वाल्यांच्या वाटाघाटीत सामील झालेले राजाभाऊ , कुणा एका तिखट मिरचीला भुलून भारावून युद्ध सोडून देण्याचा निश्चय करतात काय, वहिनींचे उत्तम सारथ्य न जुमानता रथ सोडून बाहेर पडतात काय , आणि मिसळपाव,श्रीखंड ,बटाटेवडे अश्या कौरवी मंडळींच्या नादि लागून दुसर्या एका रथात बसून मुम्बापुरीत परततात काय ! इथे श्रीकृश्णाने डायट गीता सांगायला सुरु केली, तर अर्जुन चक्क गुल ?

The Great UraliKaanchan Diet Wars, Circa 2014.... On one side, Nachni Bhaakrees, in a principled Gandhian stand, along with Miss Cabbage, clean scrubbed, devoid of makeup, while a pale Caulifloweraben devoid of Fair and Lovely accoutrements sedately sits to one side; And then some young Tondlis, all in pieces, stoic in their promise of simplicity, just wondering about the bitter Kaadhaa concoction that just passed by them to create havoc in the innards. On the other side, an opposition, led by Rajabhau, distraught after the loss of the Salty Lass, almost giving in to the Masala plotters, and blindly following the come hither gestures of Lady Mirchi. And then what do you say about a Rajabhau, who abandons his Champion Vahini Charioteer, and the war, and walks away with the villanous Misal pao, Shrikhand, and Batata vada deserters, only to drive away in another 4-wheel chariot led by himself ? Krishna trying to explain the Diet Geeta, and Arjun , nowhere to be found ?

Hanging around......

For a little girl, who , as a young kid, thought sitting cross legged in 15 feet of water in a pool was fun, this must have been child's play.  She had then earned the wrath of the life guard at the pool.

I am not sure you are supposed to leave your hands like this . Always thought you were supposed to clutch the cables with an expression of terror on your face.

 She herself is actually an excellent photographer. They always tell their subjects to smile.  I guess when it is their own turn, they just grin......

Maybe times have changed. 

And maybe , the greens all around , peering through the brown, have something to say ....

एक लक्ख सकाळ , डोंगर दरयात विहार्णारे असंख्य पक्षी उन्हे डोक्यावर आलेली , मधूनच एक थंड वार्याची झुळुक , आणि अचानक एका शिखरावरून दुसर्या कडे दोरखंडावरून घसरत कुणीतरी जाते काय, दोन्ही हात सोडून मजेत हसते काय, कोणीतरी तिचा फोटो काढते काय , आणि हे सगळं बघून कड्या कपारीतून , दगड चिरांमधून , हिरव्या साड्या लेउन, डोक्यावर पदर घेउन , इतक्या सगळ्या बायका "अगोबया ! , जर बेतानी गं !" अस म्हणत माना हलवतात काय !

A cool and clear sunny morning, birds and their ilk flitting across valleys; a noon Sun tolerating an occasional cool breeze wafting across; and what do you say about someone sliding suddenly across attached to cables, then going hands-free to give a delighted smile, to someone else sliding along, photographing her... And all the while, so many ladies in green, peering through the rocks and crevices wrap the green palloos around their heads, shake their heads in wonder and say , "Aiiyo ! Be Careful, Girl!".......

Kees of Life .....

My friend Shruti Nargundkar of Melbourne brings to life vignettes of an Indian childhood and family customs in her food blog. Do have a look at it here.

She recently posted a  recipe and writeup, on a much loved  food preparation, that is a favourite  during the Upwaas or fasting days, particularly in Maharashtra.

Batatyaachaa Kees,  a shredded potato preparation, which she prepared on a day defined by the Indian Calendar as Prabhodan Ekadashi, for the grandmas  in the family, who are visiting her.

 Prabhodan means awakening.  Lord Vishnu is supposed to awaken after Chaturmas, or the four months of the year , when he rests.   A set of four months, where life is low key, with no auspicious occasions and celebrations, simple foods, and activities like prayers, vows etc.  These four months also coincide with the monsoon months, when digestion isn't the strongest.  

I've always felt that we reflect the world we live in, in the way we conduct our lives. And vice versa. 

And I just wondered what must be going through the mind of the humble potato....  in Marathi !

एका बटाट्याचे मनोगत

भाज्यांमध्ये निवडणुका झाल्या
तर हमखास जिंकणारे भारदस्त नेते ,
एरवी सर्व प्रादेशिक मतदारांमध्ये मिसळून
त्यांची मने जिंकून निश्चिंतपणे
तेलात पडणारे लीडर लोक ,
कधीतरी त्याना राहून राहून वाटतं
कि
साबुदाणादेवी , शिंगाडासिंग , वरीबाई ,
कट्लेट कुमार, नवरतन राव ,
ढब्बुशेठ मिर्चीवले, मिस वडापाव ,
ह्यांच्या जोरावर आयुष्य काढणे
काही खरे नाही …

काही स्वतःची म्हणून ओळख हवी का नाही ?

आणि मग
चार महिने चुपचाप लोकसंपर्क
धुमधडाका पावसात सात्विक अन्नाचे
महत्व सांगत फिरणे ,
विविध पूजाना मान देत हजर रहाणे ,
कितीतरी मसालेदार मंडळींना न दुखावता
त्यांची गुपिते जनतेसमोर आणणे ,
आणि सरते शेवटी जिंकल्यास,
परिस्थितीचा अगदी कीस काढून
पातेलेस्नान करून ,
साजूक तूपतीर्थात,
जिरे, खोबरे , कढीपत्ता , शेंगदाणे,
मिरची , कोथिम्बिरीच्या शिडकाव्यात
आजी लोकांच्या उपस्थितीत ,
त्यांचे अनेक आशीर्वाद घेत
व्यासपीठावर एका सोनेरी सकाळी
उजळून बसणे ….

कधी कधी
व्यासपीठ
माडिसन स्क्वेर गार्डन ला असते ,
आणि
कधी कधी
मेलबोर्न ला
नरगुंदकरांच्या घरी ….

Green Garbas.....

Navratri is just over, and the rhythm of the Garba still lingers in the air.

 It takes a keen green eye, for someone like my friend Shail Mohan, of Thiruvananthapuram, to see it all, in the graceful branch undulating sinusoidally across a balcony ledge.  See her posting here.

So many fresh leaves,  some bending forward, some arching back, and twirling with hands raised, all dancing , in single file, in a graceful green garba.....

And a traditional song comes to mind.... (Click this link to hear the song)

Gracefully playing the Garba'
Arms raised,
bending and twirling back,
in sinusoidal delight,
to the tune of
मै तो भूल चली बगीचे का देस
बालकनी का घर प्यारा लगे
मै तो भूल चली बगीचे का देस
बालकनी का घर प्यारा लगे
कोई फूलोंको दे दो संदेस
जाके पेड़ोंको दे दो संदेस
बालकनी का घर प्यारा लगे
ओ मै तो भूल चली बगीचे का देस
बालकनी का घर प्यारा लगे

Keeping her own counsel.....

Sometimes, simple visuals end up making a telling comment on the state of the ordinary man when faced with folks begging for votes.

And every time there are rumours of the clout and power of so and so's.  Except nobody makes a statement. When it all gets too much, Luci Shail , below, tells you how to handle it.

Luci Shail of Thiruvanantapuram, who has her own blog and chronicler, is a very politically astute and aware dog. She also revels in power and control. But  even for her, it is sometimes too much....

So many states,
so many elections,
so many candidates,
so many goodies,
so many fibs and lies.

Then
an election code of conduct,

Sometimes,
keen observers
wrapped in apolitical shawls
have seen so much
that they need to
stuff something
in their mouths
to keep their observations
to themselves.....

Vote For ......!

Certain technical individuals with a digital bent of mind,recently posted an opinion comparing and extolling the similarity of lasagna with biryani.

While their architectural proclivities may bias them towards stuff constructed in slabs, it is imperative that we restore lasagnas and biryanis ,  to the positions they were intended to be in.

In this season of elections in my state in India, it really is about how to vote.

As below.

So many ingredients
doing snaan**  in sauce,
sacrificing their individuality
to a life
of dryly stewing
and being covered with
a towel of maida***;
again and again and again.

And the lah de dha cheese
in fake
melting streaky tears,
showing up in a grand hot finale
at the Convention.

Give me
fiesty,
presumably ugly looking
masala elaichis****,
free spirited tej pattas*****,
lip curling cinnamon pieces
and
black minded but faithful peppers.
They live in freedom
mingling with the bit of dahi,
with veggies of the day,
populating a fragrant ricey crowd,
occasionally adorned
with saffron strands,
and proletarian crisp onion strips.

A cool young Raita
to give the Nomination Speech,
and the Biryani erupts
in a festival
of taste, color, and satiation,
its individual members,
looking up at the world
and saying,
"Yes we can ! Yes , we can !".

Like I said, Nothing Technical.

All about how you vote.


** snaan ~ sanskrit word for bath
*** maida ~ all purpose refined flour with zero nutrition 
*****elaichis ~ cardamoms
*****tej patta ~ bay leaves

The Making of a Royal

There are Queens, there are Princesses ,  and there are balconies. And terraces.

My friend Shail Mohan, who chronicles the Life and Times of Luci Shail, posted this imposing visual, of a Crown Princess surveying her realms from the ramparts of the Royal terrace.

There is a sense of responsibility, a sense of royal duty.  Because the  Queen , is actually away , visiting Bozoland , up North from where she stays.

And HRH Lucinda alias Luci , although still very young in age, and given to chewing spectacles as a royal hobby,   takes her responsibilities seriously, and must keep a keen eye on intrusions....





 

The Crown Princess,
future Monarch,
HRH Lucinda,
in her role
as
Knight Commander
of the Legion of Barks,
Duchess of the Plantain Patch,
Honorary Brigadier
of the Thiruvananth Spectacle Fighters,
in action
on the Royal Terrace
surveying her realm,
in the absence
of the Queen
who was away
clicking another Crown Prince
in Bozoland.

The Coconut trees
simply perform
the Guard of Honor
every time she appears...

Yes,
the Royals take their roles seriously.