DuckTanic sinks in HongKong

(Pic courtesy : guardian.co.uk via Google)

Excerpt from the Quack Quack Daily

“It is with profound sadness and regret that we announce the passing away of one of our brethren – DuckTanic.  DuckTanic met his end on the 15^th of May 2013 in the waters of the Victoria Harbour in HongKong.  We hope he takes a lot of fond memories with him, having travelled through many countries".

Our reporters however, have been given to understand that DuckTanic’s last few days were quite traumatic.  During a conversation with one of our reporters Dilly Duck, DuckTanic is reported to have said that he was finding it quite difficult to breathe.  The choking sensation has stayed with him ever since he floated into HongKong.  DuckTanic had known about the rising air pollution levels in HongKong but he decided to take the risk and spread his message of peace by making HongKong one of his stops.  Though many of the ads on TV and the newspapers in Duckyland purported and presented a rather beautiful picture of HongKong,   DuckTanic, choked and gagged his way through his last few days.   Not unlike his ancestor, the Titanic, his body too sprung a leak, not because of an iceberg, but because of the polluted waters in HK’s Victoria Harbour.  Industrial waste has never been good for ducks' health.  Seriously makes us, in Duckyland, worry about the health of people in HK.

The government of Duckyland has taken up the issue with the HK government.  We have not been able to contact the Chief Executive of HK because he is apparently busy building secret rooms in his house.  We also tried to contact Mr.Jasper Tsang, the current President of the Legislative Council in HK but could not get in touch with him during the day or the night.  Mr.Tsang is apparently busy trying to just garner enough LEGCO members to meet the quorum requirements of the LEGCO.  In fact, Mr.Tsang had requested that DuckTanic make his presence felt in LEGCO because he would then have taken up many of the seats in the LEGCO and meetings could have gone as planned.  Mr. Tsang also felt that it would have been safer to have DuckTanic attending the LEGCO meetings instead of the elected Councillors because DuckTanic would not end up throwing bananas at the CE.

Our reporters managed to have a quick word with Mrs. Anson Chan who opined that given a choice, she would have fought to give DuckTanic a right to vote in the next CE elections, given the fact that the only thing on her mind right now is universal suffrage.  “We are even willing to give the citizens of Duckyland a vote” said Mrs. Chan yesterday.

Ms.Regina Yip could not be contacted as she was busy getting a few wig fitted.

Mr.Alan Leung of the Civic Party was his usual self righteous, constipated self as he unilaterally blamed the Government of HK for the untimely demise of DuckTanic.  Our reporters however, thought it fit not to take Mr.Leong seriously because Mr.Leong’s immediate knee jerk reaction to just about everything is to place the blame on the government of HK.  Ms.Audrey Eu, also of the Civic Party, was not available for comment as she apparently had a very important meeting with her hair stylist at a beauty salon.

Mr. Albert Ho brushed aside our requests for a phone interview because he is apparently busy trying to Occupy Central.  For a person with as bloated an ego as Mr.Ho, occupying a small place like the Central District should not be a problem at all, opined Dally Duck, our Chief Reporter.

We tried to approach Mr.Fernando Cheung, the Vice-Chairman of the Labour Party since we thought the Labour Party would be the kind that actually listens to the voice of the people in HK.  Apparently not because Mr.Cheung is busy nosing around the earthquake hit regions of Sichuan Province trying to find out if money has been hidden inside any of the newly constructed buildings there. 

Many of the other legislators we tried to contact were not available for comment as they were way too busy planning the next filibuster.

Mr.Leung Kwok Hung was too busy to talk to us since he was expected to spend more than an hour in the bathroom shampooing and conditioning his long tresses.  We quite admire those tresses, for they can give Rapunzel a run for her money any day.  Dally Duck thinks Leung Kwok Hung should seriously consider changing his name to Rapunzel as this would help him garner more votes from the people of HK who, given the choice, would vote for just about any cartoon character rather than a human being.

There are numerous other conspiracy theories floating around, say our reporters.  They have heard whispers that suggest that DuckTanic could have been brought down by the hordes of tourists from the Mainland who thought DuckTanic was like the Bun Festival in Cheung Chau.  Whoever got to the top first, won.  It is said that the mad rush in wanting to clamber to the top brought about the downfall of our dear DuckTanic.  Some others believe that DuckTanic died because of the amount of rubbish that was stuffed up his nostrils and his bill by the mainland tourists, for whom anything and everything is a huge rubbish bin.

Another conspiracy theory suggests that it was the Japanese that were responsible for bringing down the DuckTanic in HK waters because of the ongoing dispute over the Diaoyu Islands while some others believe that it was the Philippines that was responsible as they sought to take revenge over the way people in HK reacted after the tourists were shot down in a bus in the Philippines.  Some reports suggest that DuckTanic died when he went into a hyperventilation mode triggered by the constant exposure to loud sounds emanating from all corners of HK over the weekend.  The language is said to have sounded more like loud staccato noises that one associates with a constant assault on the senses with an assault rifle of high calibre and high speed.  The language was later identified as Tagalog.

As things stand right now, we have not been able to get in touch with anybody in HK who can give us some answers to our questions.  Makes us in Duckland seriously wonder who the common man in HK takes his problems to. 

The only people who said they genuinely felt sorry for DuckTanic and his untimely demise were a whole lot of grandmas and grandpas we spoke to.  They had time to speak to us because they were all patiently waiting in a line to collect newspapers in the early hours of the morning as they needed the discount coupons in the newspapers. 

They were the only ones that had the time to say “Rest in peace, DuckTanic”. 

Amen to that !! Quack Quack !! 

Sampradaaya Ganaanjali - in praise of Lord Guruvayoorappan

(Pic courtesy : hindudevotionalblog.com via Google)

May is turning out to be a busy month for the Indian community in HK – a culturally busy month.  It all started off with Kathakitathom on the 4^th of May which completely blew us away.  Then came another invite, this one for a programme called “Sampradaaya - Ganaanjali” on the 11^th of May at City Hall.

Lord Guruvayoorappan has always had a special place in my heart.  At my parents’ home in Bombay, we used to have a full size portrait of Guruvayoorappan in the living room, framed and mounted on the wall.  It was strategically placed too – in the sense that one could see the picture while walking around the compound and one could see the picture whilst walking on the road.   Every day, every single time I left home for something, for anything the one thing my sights would always be focussed on was that picture of the Lord.  There was something innately peaceful and pacifying about that gentle smile that one sees on Lord Guruvayoorappan’s  face.  It was and in a special little corner of my heart, still is an all knowing, all encompassing smile – a smile that seems to reach out and say “I know you for what you are.  Worry not, I am always with you.” 

This feeling was fortified as the beauty of the Narayaneeyam was revealed to a bunch of us (through our pre-teen and teenage years) through weekly classes that were conducted every Sunday afternoon.  It is equally delightful now, to be able to pass on the splendour, the magnificence of the Srimad Narayaneeyam to Macadamia and Pecan and it is an extremely enchanting feeling to see them enjoying learning the Narayaneeyam and its meaning.

Sampradaaya was presented by Tharangini in conjunction with Baithak and Palghat Cousins.  What made this even more special was the fact that it was for a noble cause.  This programme was put together and this labour of love organized as a fund raiser for the Shree Guruvayoorappan Temple in Kolkata.  It was supposed to be an evening of Bhajans on Lord Guruvayoorappan and we, as I’m sure many others did too, needed no further exhortation to attend Sampradaaya. 

It was indeed a beautiful evening as artistes from HK sung from their hearts and wove a web of magic.  The evening started off with Krithika Chandrashekhar performing a bhajan by Saint Soordas which absolutely captivated the audience with its depth and magical rendition.  There was Kaustubh Paranjpe with two abhangs in Marathi that touched the heart, there was Poorna Mysoor who beautifully rendered the age old “Krishna Nee Beygane Bharo” in shades of Hindustani music.  Playing the tabla during the first half of the performance was Mr. Pradeep Lad who is said to be an expert on Marathi film music.  There was Suresh with two lovely songs – one each in Malayalam and Tamil.  There was another lovely rendition by Jairam and another heartwarming song from Narayanmoorthy.  The lively, vivacious Shruti Pendharkar further enchanted the audience with two more beguiling melodies and it was wonderful to watch the musical chemistry between Shruti and the table master Yannick Even who brought the tabla to life during the second half of the performance. 

For those who missed this wonderful and sublime evening of divine music, there are three more programmes coming up next month, in June.  Three evenings, three wonderful opportunities to indulge yourselves in some wonderful music, to encourage and boost the passion that the local artistes quite evidently have for music, and to support a noble cause in raising funds for the Guruvayoorappan temple to be built in Kolkata.

Kudos to Tharangini and Jairam for keeping the tradition of Indian Classical Music alive in HK and for bringing forth and staging some of the absolutely wonderful, burgeoning musical artistes.  My deepest admiration to all the artistes who so painstakingly feed their passion for the performing arts through regular practice and performances. 

I remember reading once, a quote which goes “Music speaks what cannot be expressed, soothes the mind and gives it rest, heals the heart and makes it whole, flows from heaven to the soul”.

I, for one, cannot agree more.

Some more information about the Shree Guruvayoorappan Temple in Kolkata

This temple is run per Guruvayur methods - all the equipment, stones used for the temple construction, the daily poojas and the priests etc, are from Guruvayur. The sanctum sanctorum was done up in 1995, and now they have land to build a gopuram, the foundation stone for which has already been laid by the Guruvayoor high priest.

The budget is huge (about Rs 7 crore), and the idea is to keep the temple self-sufficient even after the construction finishes, so any big ticket donations will be of specific help. Moreover, help / seva could be provided in many different ways. If you have friends/family in Kolkata or elsewhere who would like to help, kindly let them know too.

In case anyone wants to find out directly from the temple about this project, these are the contacts -

CONTACT POINTS

Mr S Sekhar (Mridangam Sekhar in Southern Avenue);

Mobile: +91 93397-21863; Landline : (+9133) 2466-0709.

GURUVAYURAAPAN TEMPLE

e-mail - sgscal@gmail.com;

Temple phone: 2463-3859 / 6536-5140

Kalyanam - The TamBrahm Wedding Part 3 - Kalyana Saddhi and Nalangu

(Picture courtesy : mywedding.com via Google)

While the Mapillai (groom) and the Mattuponnu (daughter in law though literally translated it stands for CowGirl !!) are busy finding feet to prostrate in front of, most of the crowd would, quintessentially, have made a beeline towards the dining hall.  In the olden days (I mean days when I used to attend TamBrahm weddings regularly a.k.a my school / college days) – that is not to say that I’m Jurassic – a traditional lunch was always served the traditional way – on a banana leaf.  The dining hall at a TamBrahm wedding fills with people faster than a playground filling with people during a fire drill. 

Saddhis or Sadhyas are the official hallmark of any important occasion in a TamBrahm circle.  We TamBrahms do not eat to live.  No Sireee !!  We have our priorities absolutely right and we follow them to the T.  We live to eat – it’s as simple as that.  A Saddhi just serves to prove my point.  It consists of atleast 6 types of vegetables – each cooked in a distinct style and then there is the usual Trinity of Food – Sambar, Rasam, Buttermilk.  The payasam manages to wedge itself between these three rather unobtrusively.

An extensive post that I’d written on the Saddhi can be found here. 

Tired after getting engaged to each other all over again and then finally married, the by now weary groom and bride finally trudge off to the dining hall to have their lunch.  If they’re lucky, their lunch would be on the same banana leaf and the whole process would be as unobtrusive as it can.  When I say unobtrusive what I actually mean is that the bride and groom would get away with just about 90% of the clan gathered there and breathing down their necks.  I remember feeling like some sort of an exotic microbe being examined under the microscope and till date I do regret not being able to actually “taste” the food on our wedding lunch menu.  Being a microbe under a microscope is not exactly an exalting feeling, you see.  The lunch, apparently, was excellent.  Thanks for that, folks !!

Once the bride and groom are seated, not willing to give the flustered groom and bride a millimetre of space to themselves, the whole clan kind of descends on the hapless couple exhorting them to eat from each others’ banana leaves.  Worse still, it is quite commonplace to see a bunch of lecherous relatives insisting that the groom feed the bride something from his leaf and vice versa.  Many couples do, under the watchful, gleaming eyes of the said relatives who make it clear that they have one thing and just one thing on their minds right then.  They look pretty much like I guess the witch did when she trapped Hansel and Gretel in her house – sans smacking their lips in glee.  

There have been times when I’ve felt that those big laddoos that are served on the banana leaf could be put to much better use than the bride or the groom eating the laddoo.  I mean – just imagine the possibilities.  A bunch of cackling relatives who just won’t stop talking, staring and just won’t leave you alone.  You have two huge laddoos on your banana leaf.  At that point in time, those two laddoos are absolutely potent missiles, if not anything else.  Use them, people !!  The multiple ways in which those laddoos can be put to good use is something I’m not going to pen down here – I leave that to the absolutely wonderful abilities of your fertile imagination.

Nalangu is invariably next on the menu, or should I say next on the agenda.  It is usually squeezed in after lunch is done and over with and before the reception begins.  It’s a sight to behold, truth be told – two grown up adults in their own right sitting across from each other and rolling (of all the things) a coconut in the space between them.  I mean, come on people !!  Why can’t the bride and groom play lagori with the coconut, huh ?!  All those laddu kuttis and manoharam kuttis can be put to good use, right ?  Also, it would save the bride’s mom and the groom’s mom the trouble of hacking away at the kuttis to equitably distribute the same between the multiple number of mamis and athais who are bound to grace the occasion. Put a kutti (a pyramid shaped sweet) in the centre and let the bride and the groom play lagori with the coconut.  If they manage to hit each other with the coconut, there could always be a “retired hurt” rule in the books. 

The bride and groom have to actually try and wrest the coconut from each other.  I remember being pulled alongwith the coconut.  Ayyo !!  Yo – provide something wrestleworthy !!  Ek coconut se kiska kya hoga ??

Nah !  Ain’t happening !!  While the groom and bride roll the coconut around, looking extremely flustered, hordes of mamis would be seen giggling at what usually seems like a private joke.  Thank the Lord for that.  One wouldn’t  really want to listen to their jokes then lest the coconut be turned into one of those missiles like the ones being made in North Korea.  The bride is usually asked to sing a song and invite the groom for the Nalangu.  What was that again ??  Invite the groom for the nalangu ???  He as much got married that day as did the bride, did he not ??  So why does he need to be invited ??  Also, given the choice, brides would probably say they are better off not inviting the groom because you see – No Groom No Nalangu !!  Simble !!  Again, if the bride is someone like me, she would probably scare the living daylights out of the people there just by singing.  Such is the power of my music !!  That afternoon, I scarred people for life just by singing !!   Before you ask, the answer is "No !  No Regrets" !! for having scared them.  They asked for it !!  Yet again, before you ask, I did not sing "Ramba Ho Ho Ho Samba Ho Ho Ho".

The bride and the groom would be asked to anoint each other with chandan and kumkum and sprinkle rose water and after all the trouble that they would have taken to mess each others’ hair and faces up, they would be asked to crush and scatter pappadam on each others’ heads.  What a waste of good pappadam, I say.   There has been many an instance where the groom has been left looking like one of those dacoits from Sholay, what with the larger than earth tikka (not panner tikka) on his forehead and the bride has ended up looking like a cross between Kannagi and Lady GaGa. 

I, for one, would say have Nalangu by all means. Oh yes !  We must !!  Since I’m not the one going to be on the hot seat for an innings of Nalangu, what’s the harm in insisting that Nalangu be a ritual in all Tambrahm weddings in the future, eh ? 

 Instead of the pappadam thing, why not have a pie fight ?  That way, ancient relatives can be renamed too – Chocolate Padma Mami, Banana Raman Mama (better still Vazha Pazha Raman Mama if he gets hit by a banana pie), Kaapi Lakshmi Athai,  Custard Lalitha Chitti, – depending on the pie they’ve been smacked with.  Imagine a Blueberry Vasantha, a Strawberry Krishnan, a Pumpkin Tripurasundari, a Lemon Narayanan.  The list, folks, is endless.  Oh and somewhere along the way, the whole thing might not stop at just pies.  It just might end up as a pie and tart fight.  Now that should make things really interesting !!

The poor kids who have had to endure two days of the wedding ritual (as mute bystanders, I mean – not that I’m promoting child marriage here, just in case someone misunderstands), have indeed earned their fun time.  Line up the priests.  That should perk the kids up  big time.  Line up the priests and get the kids to throw wet sponges – Mr.Bean style.  Priests nowadays would consent to just about anything on two conditions – as long as they get paid for it and as long as they do not have to recite mantrams (vedic hyms) full and proper.  Using priests for target practice would be a dream come true for the kids because they simply cannot miss !!

All it takes is a bit of “neeyat” and the whole Nalangu thing could be taken to a different level altogether. 

Hmmm …. I’d said I’d be clubbing the three post-wedding aspects of a TamBrahm wedding together in this post.  Kalyana Saddhi, Nalangu, Reception and Shanti Muhurtham but upon more contemplation, it has been decided that last two deserve a post of their own. 

So be it. 

One more edition to follow ….. I don’t really know when. 

Kathakitathom - The Rhythm of Nirvana

(Image courtesy : kshk.org)

Martha Graham once said

“Art is eternal, for it reveals the inner landscape, which is the soul of man”.

It is often said that the beauty of art lies in the fact that it can be used as a powerful medium to transport people to a magical land.  It is often said that art forms can release in people, the ability to imagine scenarios beyond what they had thought possible in their realms of imagination.  It is often said that art forms mesmerise people – they hold people spellbound, they enthral, they charm, they fascinate, they captivate.  It is often said that art feeds the very depths of human spirits, it feeds the soul.

I’d heard of all these and much much more about art and its various forms since I was a child.  Born into a musical family,  I’d been exposed to the manifold nuances of classical music from an early age.  In the process of learning classical music, despite having experienced the simplicity and the complexity of music, I’d never been able to identify myself with that form of the Arts.  Never before though, had I actually experienced the magical transportation into a completely different world - with art forms as the conduit.  Like the saying goes “there is always a first time”.  That, for me, was last Saturday evening when I watched the Abhinava Dance Company perform Kathakitathom.

Each piece presented by ADC on Saturday was a masterpiece in itself.  The performances dazzled on many different levels, they touched and played with the audience’s hearts like harpists on a harp.  They appealed, at times, to the emotions of love and passion – tenderness, affection, love and compassion – all portrayed outstandingly through gestures and body language.   

It was admirable, for I found myself transported to the middle of the forest when watching Shakuntala and Dushyanta.  Adding to the magic and giving an unbelievable depth to the piece were the graceful dancers in the background who seemed to float on air as they moved across the stage.  It was almost as if the entire story which I had hitherto only read in an Amar Chitra Katha, played out in the canvass of my mind.  It was beautiful, to say the least.  What had hitherto been a mythological story just bloomed to life on Saturday.  I was beside myself, happy for Shakuntala when she found her love in Dushyanta.  I found myself thanking the bee for having made them meet and a part of me actually felt sorry for the little bee and for the slap that it had to endure in the process :-). 

With their rendition of Meera Madhuri  they so enchantingly portrayed “love in separation”.  Aside of evoking strong feelings of empathy for Meerabai as she pined for her beloved one could not help but smile at the mischief that was so supremely embodied in playing the part of Krishna.  The lovable impishness that is the very essence of Lord Krishna was portrayed exquisitely.

The most powerful rendition was the piece on Abhimanyu – Veera where the artistes sought to portray the sentiment of valour.  They could not have chosen a better personality than the dauntless, fearless 16 year old warrior Abhimanyu.  There was a point during this performance when I found myself gripping the seat handles because what it manifested in me was this insane urge to stand up and scream “Stop it.  Stop it.  Leave him alone.  Please leave him alone”.  At the end of this piece, when Abhimanyu is shown lying on the battlefield, it was almost as if one could smell the dust in the air, one could reach out and feel  the treachery on the part of the Kauravas who broke almost all the rules of battle that were supposed to be followed.  One could feel Abhimanyu’s anguish, not because be lay on the field broken and bleeding but because one could relate to his feeling of “having let down” his loved ones despite his best efforts.  At the end of this piece, all I remember feeling was a sensation of being choked.  There was this lump in my throat that just refused to go away.  There was a distinct sense of outrage against the Kauravas for what they purportedly did eons ago on the battlefields of the Kurukshetra.  Once again, the transportation to a land, a time and a place, to an era an eternity before – was magically complete. 

Their rendition of Rang was what it promised to be – an explosion of vivid colours and breathtaking movements.  It was a spectacular unleashing of energy on the stage – so powerful yet so graceful.

With their finale, Kathakitathom, ADC quite literally drew the audience in – in what can only be described as an explosive finale – a climax, a culmination that left the audience wanting more.

What I also noticed on Saturday last was the presence of a great many youngsters (not that I consider myself old, truth be told J, in the audience.  All the youngsters, I am sure, would have benefited a great deal from having watched the performance on more levels than one, on more planes than one. 

It is quite normal and natural for children to ponder about god.  How do we know that God exists ?  is a question that is commonly thrown at parents at some time or the other.  It is a question that is born out of natural curiosity and out of a need to validate that there indeed is a Universal Force out there, directing our actions.  Try explaining that to youngsters and there are times when one is quite tongue tied.  I’m sure a great many child that day must have realised, while watching Meerabai and Krishna on stage, that God is seemingly everywhere.  In  many young minds, watching Lord Krishna watching over and helping Meerabai through her actions, must have driven home the fact that God is omnipresent and omnipotent.

The rendition of Abhimanyu brought youngsters face to face with a harsh, hard fact of life.  Life is more often than not, unfair.  There are rules – yes, there always are rules.  But it is not necessary that people always follow them.  It is not necessary that people adhere to, respect and go by rules all the time.  This is so true of life itself, is it not ?  I’m sure there have been numerous instances where people have had to come face to face with this harsh reality of life.  The more important message that it conveyed to the youngsters out there is that one does not give up, one should not give up.  Stand up and fight for what you believe in, even if you have the whole world against you.  That was a very powerful message indeed to deliver to the up and coming generations and a very important one at that.

The synchrony of all the dancers sent forth yet another extremely influential message to the audience – in that it brought forth the power of teamwork.    

Saturday evening gave credence to a quote by Havelock Ellis that I’ve heard many a times “Dancing is the loftiest, the most moving, the most beautiful of arts, because it is not mere translation or abstraction from life; it is life itself”.

The music, the lighting, the costumes and the grace and talent of the dancers that evening brought together one of the most enthralling, alluring, rejuvenating and captivating performances that I’ve witnessed in a long long time.  It is an evening that will forever remain engraved on the canvass of my mind.

Last but not the least, a sincere thanks to KSHK for having organized this programme and we look forward to many more.  It was also extremely heartening to see the efforts being taken by KSHK in collaborating with NGOs back home in India, in helping provide youngsters with a stepping stone towards a better future – through education.  It is indeed a thoroughly commendable effort on the part of KSHK.   I, for one, doff my hat to both – KSHK for their laudable efforts in endeavouring to better the lives of a section of the population back home and ADC for having been the medium in bringing forth the beauty, the splendour and the magnificence of an incredible art form.

Empowering children to say "NO" !!

It is like one of those things that people know exists – yet something that people do not want to acknowledge.  All of us know for certain that this is a big bad world we live in.   Not that I’m trying to generalize.  Yes, there are a lot of good things going for this planet and the people that call it their homes but what I’m trying to say is that the bad things that happen far outweigh the good.  

I work in a field that brings me in contact with children day in and day out.  As an educator, as a teacher, I am in the midst of children for a good part of virtually every single day.  The other day, when I walked into one of the classrooms for my first lesson of the day, my gaze skimmed over those little bundles of energy in the classroom.  Seventy plus pairs of eyes stared back – some sleepy, some naughty, some with laughter twinkling in those eyes, many with energy dancing in those eyes.  As I scanned those eager faces, my gaze fell upon one little kid with a black eye.  Yes, you heard me right.  A black eye like someone had punched him right in the eye.   Apparently, it resulted from having said “no” to a parent the previous day.  The reasons, when he explained them to us later, were trivial.  Definitely not something a parent should have let loose on the child over.  But fact remains that it did happen.  He came in to school that day with a badly bruised face because he had the gumption to stand up for himself and say “no” to something he was not comfortable with.

This is the crux of my post.  The word “NO”. 

A small word it is – just two alphabets, just one syllable.  Yet, within this little word, it carries with it a very very powerful message, for those who are willing to read it.  The word “NO” does not quite come automatically to children.  It is not a standard response because right from childhood, the word NO has never been associated with good results. 

Go back to your own childhood for a bit.  How many times have you bitten down that word without spitting it out ?  I’m sure it has happened many a times.  Sometimes over something as trivial as not wanting to be hugged by one of your parents’ friends or by one of the relatives in the family to something a bit more serious as not going out for a social occasion with someone or maybe something even more serious.  But, usually, the word NO does not bring about the best of responses from parents.  The word NO invariably has parents thinking that it diminishes their authority over children and in an effort to re-assert that authority, among the first thing that parents usually trample on is the word NO.

This little word, however, is the first step in building a foundation in children.  A foundation that could serve them very well over the years to come.  I remember instances from my own childhood when one particular relative used to insist that I do a full namaskaram or prostrate in respect whenever he visited us.  Worse still, he used to buy some little thing and bring it along and then say “prostrate before me otherwise I will not give you this”.  Within my mind, my response always used to be the same “I don’t want it.  I’ve never wanted the stuff you bring along.” But that response of mine never ever got to see the light of day because I knew I was expected to go along with doing a namaskaram in front of him everytime he visited.  Why ?  Because I was not empowered to say NO.   My parents had not bestowed that right on me.   As I grew, if I knew he was going to visit, I would slip out of the house on some pretext or the other. 

Take child abuse or child sex abuse, for instance.  Everyone knows that this is one ugly truth that exists in just about every society this world has to offer.   Among the first questions a sexually abused child is usually asked is “Why did you not say no when he/she touched you ?”.  The answer is very simple.  Most children do not say NO or hesitate to use the word NO simply because they have not been e.m.p.o.w.e.r.e.d to say NO. 

Children need to be empowered. 

This step has to start with the parents.   It starts with little things like not making a child hug or kiss a close family relative or friend or being hugged  or kissed by relatives or friends when the child clearly does not want to.  The child needs to know that he / she has the power over that simple situation that makes him / her distinctly uncomfortable.  If not, the message being sent out to the child at that early age, to that young, impressionable mind is very simple – that they need to do as they are told, that they need to do something irrespective of whether they want to or not.

This is not to say that parents ought to give into ever whim and fancy of children when they say NO.  But, if the child says NO and is distinctly uncomfortable with what is to come, their feelings have to be respected.  They are little individuals in their own right and they need to know that.  They have feelings that have to be accounted for and they have to know that.   They have feelings that need to be respected and they need to know that. 

Like Dr.Seuss once said “A person is a person, no matter how small.”

Just as we teach children about road safety, about looking both ways before crossing the road, children need to be educated, to be empowered about keeping themselves safe from abuse.  They need to be educated about “good touching and bad touching” and more importantly they have to be taught that their body is precious, that it is their own and that is OK to say NO and to tell their parents when they are faced with something they view as potentially threatening or something that is making them uncomfortable.

There has been a lot of debate on teaching children about “good touch and bad touch”.  Some people do feel that to teach children something like this at a young age is akin to taking away their innocence when they are that young.  Quite the contrary.  They need to be educated about this and in doing that what we, as parents are doing is simple – we are teaching them to respect their own body, teaching them a basic and very important skill in empowering them to protect that very innocence that symbolises childhood.  It is an attempt towards empowering our children with the knowledge that they deserve to be respected and nurtured and not used or abused.

This is my first post for the Child Sexual Abuse Awareness Month - April 2013. 

 

Braidy days are here again

(Pic courtesy : www.dove.in via Google)

The word “braids” takes me a long way down memory lane.  To my childhood days and by that I don’t mean just school days.  I mean “childhood days”.  Every single day (as far as I can remember and I should be a fairly good judge of that one given the fact that we are talking about my life here) of my childhood life has had my crowning glory, my flowing tresses locked in braids.  Not that I had anything against braids – they kept hair out of harm’s way and they definitely kept them out of my eyes and my nose and my ears and what have you.

My mother, for one, gave me the distinct impression that the entire coconut economy of Kerala depended on us and us alone.  The copious amounts of coconut oil that she used on my tresses were, I can say with a fair deal of sureness, second to none.  Especially on days when we had PE at school, I used to sincerely wonder if it was sweat that was pouring down the sides of my face or coconut oil.  There have been occasions when I’ve surreptitiously wiped the sides of my face and rubbed my fingers together – just to make sure I wasn’t walking around like a coconut oil factory. 

Well, one does not stay a child forever and it was my turn to break out of the moulds hitherto set by my mom with regard to my tresses.  I waited for the day when I could get out of the “braids” and I used to pretty much look up to those models whose hair used to swish and swash around in the ads like a huge windshield wiper.  “Silky smooth and so wavy” the ads used to croon and I used to promise myself that someday it would happen to me too.

I can’t quite remember when I stopped treating my hair like the sole market for coconut oil.  It just stopped somewhere along the way and thus began my experiments with my crowning glory.  Pretty much like a butterfly breaking out and emerging from its cocoon, I relished the newfound sense of freedom from coconut oiled hair and the resultant braids. 

The very first time I went shopping for shampoos was monumental – in that I felt pretty much like Becky Bloomwood from one of Sophie Kinsella’s novels.  Only difference being Becky goes shopping for Pradas and Guccis while I went shopping for shampoos and the like.  The similarity between me then and Becky Bloomwood was the stars in my eyes as I feasted them upon rows and rows of gleaming bottles of shampoo.  They beckoned with open arms and every time I turned one down, ten others made their presence felt.  Such was the pull.   I’ve had one dream too many over this – on the one hand would be my mom, beckoning with bottles of coconut oil in her hand and on the other hand would be the models on the ramp, their raven dark hair, silky smooth, swishing as smooth as silk.

Like the saying goes, life is not so simple after all, is it ? 

I used my first ever shampoo and went to bed with a rather self satisfied smile on my then rotund face.  Dreams of silky hair kept me company through the night and I could swear I heard my own hair whispering and rustling like yards of silk.  Next morning however, I broke into a cold sweat at the apparition that stared back at me from the mirror and thanked my stars I had not turned into stone.  Yes, a true and very lifelike version of Medusa gazed back at me with a rather intent ogle.  I gasped and gulped and pretty much had this mad desire to drown my head in a vat of coconut oil.

Upon changing shampoos, the Medusa look was taken care of and the new shampoo left me happy and beaming.  My hair began to look like hair and not serpents crawling out of my head.  Everything seemed fine until one fine day, after a shampoo, I suddenly realized that I was pretty much turning the bathroom into a swimming pool of sorts.  Now, a water person, I am not.  Where is all this water coming from ? I asked myself, twirling my non existent, waxed moustache like Monsieur Hercule Poirot.  It took a while for the penny to drop and when it did, I could hear it clink loud and clear inside my shampoo drenched head.  The water was not coming in to the bathroom from anywhere, it simply wasn’t going out !!  Horror of horrors !!  The drainhole was completely clogged with all the hair that had tried to escape my head.

“Come.  Come to me”  beckoned the bottle of coconut oil and I shied away from it, pretty much like the heroine in a movie does from a villain.  “No !”  I said and stood my ground.  “I shall find a shampoo that will turn my hair lively and swishy” I said to no one in particular.  The only sound right then was the gurgle of water flowing down the drainpipe.  I had visions of myself looking as straggly haired as does Donald Trump and of my hair being mistaken as birds for a nest !!  The number of split ends I had did not help that vision in any way, just served to make it worse. 

I was just about to throw in the towel and go back to the coconut oil and braids routine when one of my cousins introduced me to Dove.  “It can even turn a bear’s hair soft” she said as she thrust a bottle of Dove shampoo into my hands.  “Remember you need to condition your hair everytime you shampoo it”  she said, sounding like the high priestess of the Swishy Swashy Silky Hair Cult or something like that.  “Condition ?”  I squeaked.  “Yes.  Conditioner is a must”  she said in a rather dramatic tone, knowing fully well by now that she had me – hook, line and sinker.

Thus began my crowning glory’s affair with Dove.  It has been years now and there have been times when I’ve strayed and opted for other shampoos and conditioners.  I’ve tried quite a few brands but a few years back, I realized it was all in vain.  Nothing worked for me like Dove did.  It has, in my case, withstood the test of time.  Every single time I feel my silky hair swishing and swashing, it never fails to bring a smile to my face - a rather content smile and one that is filled with memories, of the trials and the tribulations, of all the weird experiments and of all the hits and misses.   

The other day, I was braiding my daughter’s hair there it was, a thing of beauty and perfection – all silky smooth, sleek.  Everything was pretty much the same.  She was reading a book and I was braiding her hair – a picture that took me tumbling down memory lane.  The only difference being that she was humming a tune while I used to mutter under my breath, cross my fingers and toes and whatever else it was that I could cross and hope that I would not be oozing coconut oil from my pores.  My daughter, on the other hand,  uses Dove Shampoo and Conditioner.    The Dove Split End Rescue System has been working wonders for both of us, in keeping those split ends at bay.  That day, as I braided her hair, I had this feeling of having come full circle.  From my coconut oil braid days to her silky Dove aided braid. 

Like someone once said “Finding the perfect shampoo and conditioner is like finding the perfect soulmate for your hair”.

I had, the day my cousin introduced me to a bottle of shampoo and conditioner with the picture of a little bird on it.  It helped my hair spread its wings and helped my hair fly at the slightest hint of a breeze – silky smooth and in wild abandon.  Even now, when the sunlight plays with my strands of hair, I see the light and sheen reflecting off its surface and believe it or not, in the picturesque screen of my mind, I can see hundreds of little doves taking flight, wings spread, chirping happily, spreading joy to the many hundreds of girls and women who seek a perfect soulmate for their tresses.

Kalyanam - The Wedding (Part 2)

(Pic courtesy : theweddinggurus.blogspot.com via Google)

Kalyanam - Part 1 can be found here.

It usually takes a few minutes for the full fledged sobs to temper down to the occasional sniffle, by which time the priest is usually in a hurry to get on with the deed.  Making it sound rather ominous, am I not ?  The bride and the groom would make their way back to the seats in front of the homa kundam and plonk there for more mantrams to follow.  I’ve always had the feeling that the priests are somehow not happy seeing the bride and groom sitting comfortably so they decide it’s time to make them stand up yet again.  The groom is then handed the 9 yard sari and the stitched up blouse and while he is busy wondering if he’s the one that’s supposed to be wearing that sari, the priest speeds  his mantras forward like The Rajdhani Express and tells the groom to hand the sari over to the bride.   There is, of course, a lot of fanfare during this process too – read Getti Melam !!!

There is once more the feet washing ritual – no no – I don’t mean all the mamas and mamis having to wash their feet in those dirty bathrooms that the wedding halls usually come with.  I mean this ritual where a sixty plus year old gentleman (read bride’s father) washes the feet of someone less than half his age (read groom).  Doesn’t help again that the groom is perched on a chair with his faher in law sitting on the floor in front of him.  It is apparently done because the groom is ostensibly an avatar of Lord Vishnu and in the olden days, it was normal practice to wash a guest’s feet.  In a culture like ours which places a lot of emphasis on respect and more importantly the fact that an elderly person is given a modicum of respect just on the basis of age, this is another one of those rituals that has always been a bone of contention for me.  Anyways, aside of my rave and rants on this ritual, this is something that happens twice during an Iyer wedding.  And before you ask, the answer is "no" – the groom’s mother does not wash the bride’s feet  !!!  

Feet of the bride and the groom are “washed” with milk immediately after the garlanding ceremony – in that five mamis line up to dot the groom’s feet and then the bride’s feet with droplets of milk and then promptly proceed to wipe those drops off with a small handkerchief hidden in the folds of their kancheevaram silks.  Theory being that it symbolizes the bride and groom’s feet being washed with milk and wiped with silk.  Cheating !!!!! They wipe with cotton handkerchieves !!!  Going by the same principle, I wonder why none of the brides’ fathers have come up with the innovative idea of hosing down the groom’s feet during the feet washing ritual.  I mean, just take a garden hose and hose those feet down.  Or better still (I’m feeling positively evil now) why doesn’t the bride’s father get a whole array of brushes before he sits down to wash the groom’s feet ?  I mean, walking around barefoot and all that – the groom’s feet are bound to be dirty.  So take a good old clothes washing brush and brush away.  Makes sense, don’t you think ?  Scrub all those dead cells away and send the groom a debit note later, stating “charges for pedicure”.  Oh well !!  One can dream, right ??!!

The bride is yet again asked to change into the 9 yards sari in five minutes and the naathanaaru escorts the bride away, presumably to help her change into the 9 yards sari or just to ogle.  I can’t think of any other reasons.  Along the way to the room, the bride and her naathanaaru are joined by scores of other mamis.  The whole troupe begins to look and sound like a gaggle of geese – I mean those big, menacing looking Canadian geese not the small, petite, demure looking ones. 

Once in the room, brides often realise that to get into gear (meaning the 9 yards traditional sari), they would have to divest themselves of their sari petticoats too.  This is a pretty scary thought – especially given the fact that the nine yards sari is tucked in at so many places.  I have always had nightmares on this count – imagine one of those tucks slowly coming loose like nails come loose from wooden boards in movies.  Little by little by little.  The bride, who needs to sit down and stand up many times with that nine yard contraption on, would be fully aware of the disaster about to unfold but there’s no way she can really hitch the whole thing up like pants with a button that’s popped out.  Finally, the tucked bit of cloth pops out entirely and this sets off a domino effect of some sort and in the midst of the hall, the whole 9 yard sari contraption comes off.  Like I said, it is just one of those nightmares and luckily enough, it has remained that.  That nightmare has not seen the daylight of reality and hopefully never will.

In the room, things would be moving at a rather frenzied pace, with the senior mamis folding and unfolding and pleating the nine yards sari and what have you.  If things are like they were in my case, the senior mamis in charge of this sari draping operation would be more nervous than the bride herself and would end up draping the sari on the bride perfectly but the wrong side out.  Meaning, all that shiny kancheevaram gold threads would be on the inside with the plain woven side on the outside.  Darn !!  Take the sari off and drape it all over again !!  Not too many choices there – other than the fact that the bride throws the towel in and says she will just get married in a pair of jeans and a tee.   I was prepared for this “divesting the petticoat” thing, though.  I remember calmly stepping out of the petticoat much to the horror of some of the mamis around.  “Aiyyo konjum naanam maanam ellam venam kittaya” (Aiyyo – you should have some semblance of shame) she retorted just as the petticoat dramatically slipped off.  For all that talk of naanam and maanam, she did not avert her eyes and then realized that all along, I had a pair of shorts under the petticoat.  Ha !  Forearmed is good !!  Not forewarning the Canadian geese mamis is even better !!!  That look on their faces is quite akin to people choking on a fishbone – that moment of realization when the penny drops, the eyes widen, the mouth opens and stays open in an O shape and they look sufficiently shocked into silence – absolutely priceless, methinks.

Once the bride is all trussed up in the nine yard sari, those dumbbell like garlands go back on the neck  and the picture is complete.  Now, not only is free movement of the neck and head virtually impossible but this extends to the rest of the body as well.  Remember those innumerable tucks of the nine yard sari into various corners of your body which need to stay tucked !! (I didn’t know my body had as many corners until I was garbed in my wedding madisaar.  See, everything has a bright side to it.  One just fails to see it when it is so blindingly bright !!) 

The bride is ushered in by the whole gaggle of geese that had gone in for the sari changing process and very nimbly and cautiously sits down in the nine yard contraption called the madisaar.  Sadistic bunch that the priests are, the moment the brides sit down, they are asked to stand up and do a namaskaram to no one in particular.  Wonder if this was one of those ancient gym routines – bone strengthening, fat reducing and what have you.  Namaskaram done and the bride and groom sit down yet again while the priest tries to desperately revive the flames in the agni kundam. 

A few young girls (who most people in the hall would be eyeing like one would eye cattle at a fair and thinking that they would be a perfect match for someone’s far off relative) would be walking around the hall offering everybody flowers.  Yes, the men too.  No, not to wear on their heads.  I’m talking of flowers which are showered on the bridal couple as they (quite literally) tie themselves up in knots .... oops .... I mean tie the knot.  A couple of those mamis that resemble Canadian geese (formidable is what I’m trying to say) would be walking around with a plate with the bride’s mangalsutra on it.  It is taken around to elders in the hall for their blessings.  Now why this mangalsutra has to be on a yellow thread has always been beyond me.  It stays yellow for a couple of days and assuming that the bride is the kind that bathes everyday, it starts to turn various shades of many different colours.  It takes Fifty Shades of Grey in helping the bride decide.  I mean, the thread turns into a dirty, mottled sort of grey over a couple of months to spur the brides into action in deciding that it is about time they divest themselves of the erstwhile yellow thread and get the mangalsutra transferred onto a chain.  Why would it not have been just put around their necks on a chain is well, beyond me. 

A sudden flurry of activity ensues as the priest realizes that he’s pretty much holding up the entire process and to someone who has not been to a Iyer wedding, it must indeed seem strange.  Moments of inactivity and suddenly people rising from all over the hall pretty much like the Mexican wave.  In the midst of all this, the bride would have ended up on a chair that makes its presence felt throughout the ceremony.  Sometimes she is asked to sit on her father’s lap but if the priests are like the ones who officiated our wedding, they decide that the bride is old enough to sit on a chair by herself.  I mean. if she is old enough to get married, surely she’s old enough to sit on a chair by herself right ??  Gah ! Kidding !!

By now, the area immediately surrounding the said chair on which the bride is seated would have and should have (otherwise there is something seriously amiss) begun to resemble a scrum at the Rugby Sevens.  Numerous mamas and mamis would be hunched around the chair in a circle, necks straining until they remind one of the baby emus at Singapore Zoo.  Once again while the priest yells mantras at the rather befuddled looking groom, the nathanaar (God ! She’s everywhere !!) takes her spot behind the bride and in unison about fifty fingers seem to fly up in the air to shouts of Getti Melam, Getti Melam. 

As the Getti Melam gets its act together and screeches like animals being led to the slaughter, the groom is instructed to place the mangalsutra on the bride’s neck and tie just one knot.  The two following knots are to be tied by who else but the nathanaar !!  In my case, my nathaanaar was the one most nervous and the video clearly shows her hands shaking and in a fit of nervousness she tied my mangalsutra thread somehow around two garlands and for the rest of the ceremony, I pretty much walked around with my head held high – not in the figurative sense, more so in the literal sense because the mangalsutra was that high up on my neck !!!  I empathised a great deal with horses who are lassoed !! 

Alll the mamas and mamis shower the bridal couple with flowers.  The ones in the couple of rows at the front do manage to hit their intended targets but for the others, it is pretty much a question of which bottom their flowers hit.  There is a wall of mamas and mamis standing at the front and they get their rather generous bottoms showered with flowers by the people sitting behind.  Pretty sight, no ?

Just as the bride and the groom are marvelling at feeling like a hero and heroine in a movie, with the heavens showering flowers on them from all sides and the getti melam playing like the New York Philarmonic Orchestra, there would be a flurry of hands that appear through the crowd, making the whole thing seem like a scene from The Nightmare on Elm Street.  No bodies, only disjointed hands being thrust at you.  As if getting married was not scary enough, now there’s a whole host of scrawny, bony hands without bodies to contend with.

People would be shaking hands with just about everybody around saying “kalyanam ayacchu allava ?” (They’re married, isn’t it ?) or some such inane comment.  Of course, they’re married !!  What do you think all this ruckus over the past twenty four hours has been about, dude ?  To the bride’s parents it would be “Mappillai Vandacha ?”  (quite literally translated, it means “Has your son-in-law come ?”  What in the world sort of question is that ?  More so, pray tell me, is it not a tad too soon for that question ?  Right there, in front of so many people ??!!  Also, how in the name of God will the bride’s parents know the answer to that question ?)  Aiyyo !!  The Horrors !!  The groom’s parents would be subjected to the “Mattuponnu vandacha ?”  which means “ has your daughter in law come ?”  My Dear Lord in Heaven – I shall say no more !!

Once all these questions about who has come and how and where they came subside (wrong choice of word there, I know), the bridal couple would be seated in front of the agni kundam again and the priest would be seen beckoning the by-now-infamous nathanaar again.  She descends upon the bride with something hidden in her palms.  The toe rings !!  Now begins some more fun.   How these toe rings are bought is a saga in itself.  Basically, the person who buys them has no clue of the size of the bride’s toe.  Not surprisingly, getting the bride’s toe through those rings is like getting an egg through the narrow mouth of a bottle.  Atleast with a bottle, one can use fire.  Common sense suggests that one cannot set a bride’s foot on fire to get a toe ring onto her toe.  Priests to the rescue !!  Like James Bond rescuing a damsel in distress the priest uses a piece of turmeric and a struggle ensues – between the priest and the turmeric and the toe ring.  Somehow, after an inordinately long struggle, the toe rings go on.  The groom’s parents should also buy a pedicure voucher when they shop for toe rihgs.  After all that trauma to her toe, the bride is sure to need a pedi !!

The bridal couple stand up yet again and it is time for the Saptapadi.  The groom is asked to stand and hold the bride’s right hand in his right hand.  He then has to bend and hold the bride’s big toe with his left hand.  Some weird Yogasana this looks like.  But dudes, this is another reason for the grooms to hit the gym months before they get married.  Semi clothed as they are, it definitely makes things less embarrassing if they’ve been working out months prior to the wedding.  Just in case people start to get ideas and start rushing off to the nearest outlet of Triumph or Wacoal thinking the groom needs “extra support”, you know.   

This is the clue for all the mamis in the hall to start whispering to each other “Adho – pondati odu kaala pidichaachu avan.  Paavam Rukmini – ini aval chonnathai onnum kekka maatan avan.” (See he’s touching his wife’s feet.  Now he’s not going to listen to his mom anymore.) Paavam Rukmini meaning Poor Rukmini is the MIL a.k.a the groom’s mom. Oxymorons galore, that one !!

Some more time in front of the agni kundam and the wedding ceremony is deemed complete.  The bride and the groom are handed a bowl of akshathai  (yellow rice) and are asked to do namaskarams to the elders left in the hall.  Worry not, there won’t be too many people left in the hall.  Most people would already have made a beeline to the eating hall where the wedding saddhi would be on in full swing.  More about the kalyanam saddhi in the final episode of this series coming up soon.  Kalyana Saddhi, Nalangu and of course, the Shanti Muhurtham.  

Ending this edition with a question -  who in the name of God named it Shanti Muhurtham ?  Of all the things, the best they could come up with was Shanti Muhurtham ???!!!  

Stay tuned - series finale coming up soon :-).