Political Evolution at High Altitudes...

My  blogging friend, botanist researcher Sangeeta Khanna  recently visited Sikkim , and  was smitten by various local veggies that don't normally make an appearance , say, in big metros.  Naturally, she probably lugged back a basket of those , to experiment later while cooking.

Have a look at the various vegetables here.  While some were heard of but not seen , there were some which looked a bit hybrid. Like the ones below.

Neither the brinjals nor the  tomato parivars would have been thrilled.  Purity and all that.

And a thought kept reccurring in the mind. ......

The Congressi brinjal
and
BJP red tomato
eloped to the mountains
straight from the backyard
of Lutyen's Delhi.

No Party Sharty
in the Himalayas,
and a tough
but a healthy life
slogging in the winds
and cold
and brilliant Himalayan Sun,
and
their children happened,
losing all the
excessive colorful traits,
except the beaklike stem
from
all the shouting their parents did
in Parliament.

You can tell
whose children they are,
but they all now belong
to the Greens Party.

Parakeets and Politics

My blogger, photographer and travel writer  friend Anu Shankaran  recently posted some amazing captures of red ringed parakeets  on her blog.   

The sequence did indicate that something serious was being discussed. Like folks at the top interviewing some junior folks, helped by an presumed-peaceful intermediary.  Like some interested folks looking on from some distance away, biding their time. 

Maybe the birds in India are aware of the political happenings.  Maybe there is a clear hierarchy amongst parakeets, and the red ringed ones are members of an elite body, elected by proletarian parakeets.  

Anything is possible. Even a poem !

The Chairparakeet
at the top
in lights,
and her smart protege
steeped in guava economics
and FDI in Trees;
both wondering
how the fiery one
on the rusted eastern pillar
will react.

" No ! I cannot
and will not allow
FDI in trees, ever ;
what will my  fellow birds eat ?"
the fiery lady parakeet
said determinedly.


The Chairparakeet
gave a slight nod,
turned away in anger,
and
the fiery one,
ever aware of the niceties,
bowed and said,
"i am sorry, but I must withdraw..."
and flew off.

The Chairparakeet looked down,
consulted the
Sitting Committee,
and decided to approach
someone else....
 
Some distance away,
amidst the spiky trees,
another parakeet,
statue-like and stately,
watched the proceedings,
as the Chairparakeet approached....

No one knows what was said,
but this one too
flew away.

Crisis time.
The Chair parakeet
and the smart protege,
were last seen winging south...

Allocation of Sour Dough Blocks

I am blessed with some amazing friends who I have never met. Who spend an entire afternoon making sour dough bread , and then post photos .

My FB friend and blogger Sangeeta Khanna , likes to cook stuff , paying attention to the nutritional value of what she uses. She also uses the freshest of ingredients as she has her own garden, which she tends with green fingers.

 The minute she posted this, there was a clamour for pieces online, with some folks ruing the fact that they stay so far away from her house. Some even openly planned to kidnap her so they could have a series of baking sessions with her.

 It is strange because we've been hearing in the political news about similar clamours for coal blocks, surreptitious granting of pieces of land for mining, and certain folks lives being greatly sweetened.

Just saying. ...

Sigh.  Since I live more than 1000 kilometres away from it all, all could do was write a poem ...:-)

(photo by Sangeeta Khanna)
The temperature is perfect,
the various nutty allies
are supportive,
as the yeast of ambition,
gets them

over confident, 

and puffed up.

Their own oven,
their own flour,
free butter for the asking;
All the bread blocks would be theirs
to cut up
and sell to outsiders
with the pepitas of power
at amazing prices.

Here's someone,
who sources
her own mind,
her own garden,
and her own knowledge
of sensible ingredients.
The yeast of ambition
changes to the yeast of friendship,
and spreads,
lightening
an afternoon bake.

And she cuts them into pieces,
and virtually
offers them one by one,
to everyone ,
with a cup of hibiscus tea.......

The pepitas,
happily tumble away ,
as she cuts the bread.

For they wait
to be popped
into her mouth as she reads this ....

:-)

The Pattice Award....

"Pattice" , made of an outside potato and flour covering, and sometimes, stuffings of various types inside, is  a very popular preparation, enjoyed in various ways in Mumbai. Naturally, my blogger friend Magiceye, has had it this season, and faithfully photographed it before eating it, and posted it here.

Although sometimes also made  with cooked green plantain fruit, by those, for whom potato is contraindicated,  It is time, that we acknowledge the role played by the  versatile potato in our troubled lives..... 

Proof, that  saviours too exist in society......

Sometimes
in a
powerhungry
mercenary world
you find
simple community leaders
giving of themselves
selflessly....

Alubhai Batatewale
always in the crowds,
rushing in
to offer his considerable
help,
in keeping
strong willful
immature types together.

In pressure situations,
giving the skin off his back,
he offers himself,
in collaboration with flours
and breads
to strengthen things,
tolerating 
the popular arrival of
Coriander Singh Mirchi,
Adrak Bhai and Lasoonabi.

Then its time
to console and hug the
sulking Green peas,
sometimes,
even the  Coconut
completely in shreds
troubled by
sidey chilly and kismis.

"Don't worry,
I am with you always"
he says,
as they both live through
a hot and sizzling
episode,
a testing time on
one of Life's griddles.

The battle over,
they rest ,
browned and singed,
catching their breath on a cool dish,
helped by
volunteers of the
Green Chutney Andolan.

Alubhai,
even then ,
with one ear alert
for possibly
impending Ragda floods.....

At a time when
you get thrown into hot burning oil
for the slightest reason
by folks
trying to be popular
and powerful,
Alubhai Batatewale
is too be awarded an PH.D
Pattice with Hara Dhaniya .....

Burning thoughts....

My blogger friend Magiceye recently posted this picture as part of the Camera Critter series in his blog Mumbai Daily .

This is a picture of a crow and a few cattle egrets, observing something in great contemplation above a garbage dump in Bandra, the queen of Mumbai suburbs, and home to some interesting politicians....

In view of the recent conflgrations , and massive fire in the state secretariat some distance away (but possibly visible to birds), the common suspicion in the mind of the common man, attributing it to unnatural causes, having to do corruption, one feels this picture conveys the current situation on governance in the country....

In the face
of a life
with
a sinusoidal changing
bottom line,
The Crow Chief Minister
stands
seriously watching
the fire mayhem
some distance away,
accompanied
by his
redoubtable deputies,
at a discreet distance.

Two of them,
publicly
with a brave
pseudo ignorant face,
and one,
kind of
still making up his mind ,
sheltered
and pressurized by others
to whom he owes his place in the shade.

Below them
the real garbage accumulates,
wondering,
if it too
will face the same future
as some stuff
deemed inconveneient garbage by some,
that recently burnt
a birds eye view away
in the distance.

Omlettes and the Presidency

On this windy monsoon Sunday morning, you feel full just seeing this photograph of a Tomato Omelette, Maharashtra's veggie answer to what the world calls an Omelette. ( A devil and the deep-blue-sea kind of choice for the chicken; either way it dies)

 My blog friend, Magiceye, possibly after photographing, and eating several of these, must have posted the photographs on 365Project.org

 Mrs Magiceye, please take a bow ! You create all these wonders, and Magiceye gets all the likes and comments......

But it did bring to mind the current item of interest in the National News......

:-))

The important
Chana Chair-atta
in meaningful talks with
Gehubhai;
the Tomato Party
and
the Onion-Mirchi Coalition
sitting all cut up
to one side,
and the PaniMaa
comes sweeping in
with a single powerful Chamchaa,
bidding everyone to unite
for the Batterji....

Sometimes the
All India Ginger-Garlic Bandhu
test the waters,
watching some other
powerful spicy members
jumping in.

Then its a hot trial
by fire
on a smoking  griddle
as the
ChairAtta moves around
holding all together,
firmly,
not allowing them
to separate.... 

Despite the
breakaway
Dosa-Utthappa-Dhirda faction,
for Madam ChairAtta,
this Tomato Presidency Election
is very important.

Two stiff
square
military attaches,
wait to escort,
slowly marching
in golden cadence.

Yes,
it has been
a non-violent event,
but nevertheless,
has drawn some
seriously red  ketchup....

The Music of Politics

My blogfriend IHM posted these three amazing  photos on her blog today, as part of a Thursday posting on the subject of Music : "Musical Instruments on  GulMohur Tree".  Of course, Delhi , with its wonderful green spaces,parks and gardens  gives the Mynah birds a wonderful opportunity to make great music, besides allowing folks to photograph them in action...

I did hear the music, enjoyed it. But once the music died down,  it occurred to some that this was really a comment on political realities....

It was also clear, that we all manage to tolerate all the problems of the nation, simply because there is all this actual Mynah music happening around us....

 

Comfortably ensconced
away
from the orange,
amidst
green, white and orange
flag-colored
long scarves
it is time
to address
the masses,
protected by
some invisible
cool dark green
uniformed darting types,
and
other visible folk
of great prominence
standing behind.

A training of sorts
for them
in  making promises,
fancy announcements,
requests for votes,
and
highlighting promises
not kept by others,
and now made by themselves...

And like all children
they
watch and learn,
joining in
at slogan time
adding volume
to the noise,
only to graduate
one day,
to making their own
false promises,
their own loud speeches
sitting
on the same branch,
right behind  her,
and
she turns back,
very pleased,
relieved,
and says,
"Well done, well done !"

Tree Politics

My blogging friend , Sangeeta Khanna, who is a botanist, trekker, antioxidants researcher, gardener , nutritionist and photographer, captured this scene of two red whiskered Bulbuls, confabulating , seriously, in her garden.

Sometimes I think life in the bird-world, imitates something we see on television , in situations of "power".....

The whiskers,
once red,
now greying in his
approaching eighties,
he sits,
a learned observer,
on a branch,
which  vibrates
in sudden movement.

It's the other leader,
just arrived,
in a summer white saree,
with a dark jacket,
combining unusually
with the bright red sindoor.

So many new bird types,
some there because
of family power,
some, because
it is useful
to know how to hide behind the green,
some because
they navigate
through difficult
and crooked branches
so well,
some  because they see it
as a great opportunity
to build nests of convenience
in difficult but useful corners,
and some,
strangely,
because,
they like trees,
love birds,
and want to learn
from actual experience.

But these two
really worry ,
about
some who are so
indisciplined,
that they keep
flying randomly around the trunk,
throwing twigs and leaves around,
cawing and twittering
disturbing the peace
and
making life hell
for those sitting
below the tree,
seeking
solutions.

They confer,
flutter a bit,
flying to take a sip of water
from the
bird bisleri
and arrive back
to confer again.

In 2014
they have decided,
they will simply change the tree. 

A rose, by any other name .....

My FB and photographer friend  Anand Amembal  posted a profusion of rose photographs, after a trip to the Maharashtra Nature Park in Dharavi, Mumbai.

This particular photograph , has a dark background (achieved by adjusting the aperture and shutter speed), although the photo has been clicked in a garden during daytime, possibly noon !

And this had something to do with a sense of starkness and sharpness of the rose that came through, reminding me of someone , who once bloomed with great hope for us in the country, but now prefers a dignified silence, surrounded , by what some might say, is dark times. 

Those who read the front page of newspapers as opposed to Page 3 and sports pages , may know what I am talking about .....

(photo by Anand Amembal)

Once,
facing up,
fresh into the sunlight
bringing new hope
on a new day,
in a garden
filled
with opportunistic weeds,
he stands now,
old ,
and tired
of what he sees,
his
wiry young
z-plus security
alert
and
surrounding him....

Petals
lost in strength,
and color,
a few
curled in disgust,
he stands,
doubting all those
green in envy
crowding around,
and relaizes,
how difficult it is
to be
the
Head flower
in a chaotic garden....

Praying Mantis's and Preying Politicians....

An amazing photograph of the shell of a Praying Mantis, after moulting, clicked and posted by FB friend and photographer , Anand Amembal.

Moulting happens in various ways in insects, birds , even reptiles, and is all about changing, shedding old to acquire new. In the case of the Praying Mantis, the whole exoskeleton/shell.

So similar to what's happening in Parliament. The powerful ruling leading party, pretending to shepherd an important  Bill, appropriating support from small parties, and then devaluing them , once their usage is over. Sometimes, the smaller parties learn quickly, move away, and hold out. The powerful pretend to change, sometimes even actually change, but the world has seen through them. Even the environment and the country is not fooled. 

The praying mantis, moults to grow. Our preying  politicians, must moult and moult again, to learn...

(photograph by Anand Amembal)

We pray.

The mantis's,
they prey.

Flitting between
leaves, joins and parties,
a hiss here,
an indulgent glance there,
mostly highanded,
trying to squeeze,
opposing others
amidst legs
sharpened to hurt,
they devour
helpless little ones,
as they pretend ,
it is all for the good of the green.

But sometimes,
the duplicity is exposed,
the leaves turn away,
and
the insects,
having learned the hard way,
look for pastures,
elsewhere and greener.


It's time to moult,
and tentative and shrugging,
occasionally stiffening
in attitude,
the mantis moves out,
maybe reluctantly,
to start preying elsewhere again.

And the ghostly white
vision,
leans across a leaf
in suprise,
looking at the going ons
and wonders
"How many times
must I keep moulting
and changing myself
before
this becomes a meaningful place to live?"

Bare, tough, and powerful . Unfortunately.

This photo of what he calls "eagles of tomorrow" is by young Adityavardhan Paranjape, who is in Junior College (12th grade). I have known him since he was born :-)

He frequently accompanies his father Prasad Paranjape , on photography trips to various Wild Life Sanctuaries across India. You can see some more of Aditya's photographs here.

I often think, all these inadvertently clicked photos have something to tell us.

My take.:

(photo by Adityavardhan Paranjape)
Some are conspicuously
massive,
firmly spreading
across
the available space,
throwing
their weight around.

And some
are the
mass of twigs,
haphazard but together,
helping balance
each other,
across crossings
in their
unpredictable lives.

You would think
that
this would be
a home
for some
peace loving,
simple minded,
public singing birds.

But no.
No peaceful green,
No pliable green branches
No innocent flowers.
And no fruits
of truthful labor.

Today's' world
is such,
that only
the predator birds
stand threateningly
at all life's junctions,
powered by the
might tree....

Sculpture lessons

My friend UmaS posted this as part of her Wordless Wednesday series. I've often felt that in addition to staying wordless, we need to keep our minds and ears open for some conveyed messages.

Those conversant with the flavor of politics today, in India, might understand.

(wood carving on the door panel in the entrance to a typical Chettinad style house. Picture clicked by UmaS at Dakshina Chitra – a place that showcases the culture and architectures of South India.)

We never learn from
the lessons
of the aeons.

Giving of oneself,
one’s crown
as a footrest
for the deity,
supported by
upraised hands;
a happy mix
with
heralding elephants,
supporting courtiers,
who in turn
hold up the
muscular beauty
of the horses.

And the folks
on each side
doing their bit
to hold up
the ceiling
with hand held
pillars
of unstinted support.

And here we are,
always supporting
in exchange
for something undeserved;
withdrawing support
at will
for personal gain,
talking from
the side
of the mouth,
while publicly smiling,
creating media to defame
simple men….

No wonder
we often feel
the roof is coming down on us….