A Year Of Change

I'd like to begin by wishing my readers and friends a wonderful new year.  Annus mirabilis, a year of wonders, miracles and more.  I'd like to thank you for continuing to read my blog, considerably infrequent though it has been these last few months.  I have been taken over by a flurry of events at home and hospitals and have been unable to do justice to my blogging.  This situation may continue for a few months but I hope the blog will eventually pick up again, at least I will try (one of this year's resolutions!).

One of the reasons the blog is going so slow, as I explained to a friend, is that my life is currently submerged in trivia.  Not that I mind but I wouldn't want to inflict it on my readers.  "Write about the pursuit of trivia then", he suggested.  I turned this over in my mind for several weeks but it did not seem satisfactory enough.  This week, however, I realized I had to make some kind of change in the contents because my activities are more restricted for the time being.  To keep the blog going, I realized, that I would have to shift from fact based blogs to thought based ones (or a mix of the two).  This may test my writing skills and your patience, but let's see how it goes!

I am in Delhi for a few months.  It is supposedly a cold winter, a few degrees lower than usual.  The smog descended, as it does, but only for a few days.  Now it is sunny; winter holidays are still on, and parks are full of families and the ubiquitous couples.

I am staying in our family house, a mix of old and new structures.  I am staying in the room that my grandmother used to occupy, the oldest part of the house.  It looks onto a large verandah in front and a sunny strip of balcony behind.  A charming room, but there has been much work to do to make it comfortable and practical for me.  Wires are always a problem; we have been fixing the old wires in the bathroom to get enough light, working out a way of fixing night lights, reading lights and more.  The telephones in the room screech and crackle - more wires to be taped and fixed!  The room is quite cold in the winter; fortunately we now have new heaters which are perfect for gently heating rooms without drying the air out.

The problem with too comfortable a room temperature is- mosquitoes!  Yes!  Those days of mosquito-free winters is long gone.  Once the digging for the commonwealth games began (a couple of years ago I think), mosquitoes have filled this city, never to leave.  Now they linger outside and rush in wherever they find a warm spot.  Fortunately there are no epidemics these days but I know it is just a matter of time especially as the weather warms up.  Normally we use chemical repellents but I am trying to find natural means of keeping them out.  I begin with the chemicals, then clear the room of the sprayed air.  End up by lighting large sticks of citronella incense.  This works, but only some of the time.  Often, one or two remain - and one is enough to cause havoc at night.  Next week I plan to buy a local mix of camphor and herbs - the Bengali dhuno (which is used to create a dramatic smoky effect in the pujas) - and smoke the rooms every evening, the way it was done in our grandparents' time.

I spend time opening out drawers filled with old memories - many papers and scribbled notes lying forgotten for decades, which are no longer required.  Make a separate space for photographs, which are fluttering everywhere and spilling out of envelopes.  Air out the cupboards, line them with fresh paper and begin to unpack and stop living out of suitcases.  Make some changes so I can easily take care of my food requirements - buy a small juicer and some microwavable crockery (in this process I end up buying a porcelain dinner set for six - utterly useless for now but I hope to use it sometime in the unpredictable future.  Ah! the perils of shopping!).

The house is filled with workers as well - we are installing some new soundproof windows.  Noise levels in Delhi have risen tremendously and one can no longer open any window that faces the main road.  Fortunately one side of our house faces a park, but this year planes seem to fly overhead periodically.  These are loud but not too frequent.  Certainly nothing compared to the explosions from trucks when their tyres burst in front of our house - like bombs!

Well, we have been working away, my father and I, and I think in a week's time everything should be dealt with.  It's a pleasant way to begin the year - by scrubbing clean unwanted remnants of the past, mending and buttressing existing structures - and waiting for the new to step in!

Games Doctors Play

The last few months I have been seeing a few doctors and over this period, I have come to recognize certain patterns of interaction that are quite common.  These are a sort of play based on personality and training; sometimes these are innocuous but at times they may be irritating or even deleterious.  It's good to watch out for these and not get sucked into playing along.  My golden rule is never to rush into any drastic or invasive treatment that doctors recommend (even if they say seconds are precious).  It's always good to excuse oneself for at least a few minutes (if not for longer), talk to reliable friends or other doctors before being pushed into any action.  As for the things we have to deal with (other than our medical conditions), here's a short list:

1) Brick in the wall: (taken from Pink Floyd's song of the same name) - 'All in all, you're just another brick in the wall'.  Most likely you're being used to ramp up the hospital rather than the other way round.  But this feeling of not being treated as a person begins right from when you step into the hospital.  Don't take it personally!

2) P2C2E: (from Salman Rushdie's Haroun and the Sea of Stories) : Process Too Complicated To Explain.  Be wary when you hear such things- doctors will often fling them at you.  Nothing is too complicated to explain (at least not in biology), also be wary of oversimplification and inane analogies - there are few analogies that work for the human body and mind (as for the spirit- don't worry about it, doctors will not even mention it!).  Doctors who stick to facts (especially backed with proper medical references) are few to come by but worth paying attention to.

3) Carrot and Stick:  Very common - used sequentially or in random combinations, to push you into opting for something you may not be comfortable doing at that moment.  This is exacerbated by waves of urgency that the doctor suddenly begins emitting or sometimes a hypnotic glare.  A red herring such as a warm, sympathetic smile may sometimes be thrown in.  Watch the doctor for all these signs and watch yourself for inner reactions!

4) No Option: A very common game.  Doctors don't often use these exact words though last week I met one who did.  I promptly interrupted him and said, "There is always an option."  And there is!  The final decision (whether to begin a treatment and, often, even when you want to quit) is yours "against medical advice", though it may be.  Don't be afraid of these words or of taking your time to figure out whether you want to follow the doctor's advice.  Of course, every option has a consequence and you must be willing to face it.  But even if there is only one course of treatment possible in modern medicine, you may still want time to decide which doctor and hospital you want to go to and may want a second opinion.  So, even for sub-choices (once the main decision is taken), options may need to be explored.

5) Trust Me:  Trust cannot be induced, it emerges and flows freely when conditions for it are conducive.  I wouldn't trust a doctor unless I (or someone I rely upon) feel they are worthy of it.  I prefer to trust medical literature and analyses.  If you have reasonable cause for doubt, it's good to get a second opinion or talk the matter through with someone who is familiar with the subject and preferably with recent medical research or guidelines.  I also wouldn't trust internet chat sites though I use the internet a lot to collect technical medical literature.  There are certain official (and relatively unbiased) sites where things are explained in simple terms (medline plus is a good one for example).  It's good to read a little especially when drastic new therapies are being prescribed.  It's also useful to keep in mind that very rarely are those shiny new drugs and methods that doctors dangle before us, as attractive as described.  Medicine can do a lot of good but sometimes the side effects, the length (and expense) of treatment and its success rate are not explained as clearly as one desires.

6) The Three R's R'nt So Important: Trust your school teacher in this respect- they sure R!  Make sure you can read (and understand) the prescriptions.  Doctors also sometimes give the same dosage of medicine to one and all irrespective of their physical condition (body mass, age, other medical complaints they have) but this is not so common and one deals with it if terrible reactions occur.  Sometimes doctors mistakenly write milligram (mg) for microgram (mcg) - it's happened to me twice!  But chemists (or pharmacists) are quite used to this and allow for it while dispensing medicines.  But doctors may still have a few tricks up their sleeve that we may not know of.  A doctor told me last week, "You biologists think you know everything.  But one plus one is not two in medicine, like it is in biology!!!"

7) Next Patient!:  Don't be pushed by the 'Next patient' war cry that doctors often use - take your time to read and understand (and ask if you have any questions).  Also make sure you have enough time to put back all the papers and reports that are strewn over the doctor's table, into a folder, before you leave their office.  Good luck!

Finally, here are a few quotes on medicine, healing and curing, written by exceptional doctors, that I like:

"In a community like ours we have put all the emphasis on cure.  We want to be professionals: heal the sick....  But the temptation is that we use our expertise to keep a safe distance from that which really matters and forget that in the long run cure without care is more harmful than helpful.
   When we honestly ask ourselves which persons in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand.  The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not-knowing, not-curing, not-healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is the friend who cares."     (Henri Nouwen, Out of Solitude)

"My advice is to live YOUR life.  Allow that wonderful inner intelligence to speak through you.  The blueprint for you to be your authentic self lies within.  In some mystical way the microscopic egg that grew to be you had the program for your physical, intellectual, emotional, and spiritual development.  Allow the development to occur to its fullest; grow and bloom.  Follow your bliss and be what you want to be.  Don't climb the ladder of success only to find it's leaning against the wrong wall.  Do not let your age limit your future growth as a human being...
   ...Remember I said love heals.  I do not claim love cures everything but it can heal and in the process of healing cures occur also."     (Bernie S. Siegel, Love, Medicine and Miracles)

The Lunchbox - An Unusual Indian Film

I saw this movie a couple of months ago but didn’t post a review because I felt the original trailer (without subtitles) did not do justice to the film.  Now I see that a new trailer (with English subtitles) has been put up, which is considerably better. 

Not that trailers are required to recommend a film, in fact, if you want to keep everything a surprise for yourself, don’t watch the trailer!  You could watch the second link (to a song) that I have given at the end, to get an idea of the characters and photography.

This film has done well in mainstream cinema even though it does not pander to Bollywood stereotypes and deals with serious issues (in a slightly romanticized fashion).  Perhaps it has done well simply because people are tired of watching continuous and excess glamour and endless song and dance sequences, perhaps it is because there is so much food in the story (food is stated to be the spine of the film, but I don’t think that is correct, however, food does seem to envelope or affect almost all the characters in one way or the other) or perhaps because it is an unusual love story.

I like the film for several reasons – the main one being its intelligent and sensitive approach to showing lives of different kinds of people or communities that still exist in India but that media generally doesn’t want to depict (they are so unglamorous and so not India shining!  Nor are they awfully depraved or violent!!).  It does so without crossing the fine line that would take it to realms of being clichéd, didactic or even dark.  It is about quirks of fate that transform people’s decisions and in turn, their lives.

The main actress, Nimrat Kaur, stated in an interview that the hardest thing for her to do in the film was to de-glamourize herself.  Indeed she looks remarkably unlike her off screen chic self, but this is the face of thousands of Indian women, quietly tucked away, working to keep their families together.  Nimrat has given a superb performance, especially as this is her first major role in a mainstream film.  The other two main actors, Irrfan Khan and Nawazuddin Siddiqui are veterans and are a joy to watch anytime.  They convey so much through their body language and style of speech; this is why it’s not worth watching a dubbed version of the film.  The official DVD with subtitles has not been released yet but I’m sure it will appear in the market soon.  The unseen and often heard ‘Auntie’ upstairs is done by Bharati Achrekar , a renowned Marathi actress.  All the other actors are very competent in their respective roles.

The Lunchbox was originally meant to be a documentary on dabbawallahs (the large army of people who unerringly deliver tiffin boxes from place to place in Mumbai) but eventually took the shape of a romantic feature film.  (It is hard to believe that it is the first feature film made by the director, Ritesh Batra.)  As mentioned earlier, this film has no real songs.  It has one borrowed song though, which adds a bit of charm and makes those unpalatable truths much easier to bear.  How does one deal with a life of ‘quiet desperation’?  Is life really as bad as one makes it out to be?  And finally – as the movie posters and trailers ask – can you fall in love with someone you have never met?  The film lets you find answers for yourself as it unfolds.

Apart from the romance and the philosophy, the well edited script and the skillful photography (showing the city of Mumbai), there are some tongue in cheek moments that are wonderfully done.  One in particular is when Ila (Nimrat) asks a dabbawallah whether her carefully packed tiffin box is reaching the right destination and he replies, “We have been commended by Prince Charles and Harvard; we never make mistakes!”  But as Shaikh  (Nawazuddin) says, “Sometimes the wrong train can take you to the right station.”  Watch this heartwarming and thought provoking film to get a glimpse of India that is rarely shown on screen.  I am attaching two links: the first is the trailer with English subtitles and the second is the small song sequence from the film.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENgWVvQYCxg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=72PA9_pSZuM

Masters Of The Sarod

I have never paid much attention to the sarod, I don't know why.  This is a musical string instrument which probably originated from the Afghan 'rubab' and has been modified considerably since. The last time I heard the sarod in a concert, some years ago, it sounded a bit laguorous and didn't capture my attention.

Last week, when we were invited to a concert featuring Amjad Ali Khan and his sons, Amaan and Ayaan, I was not sure what to expect.  There is so much publicity surrounding these artists (and the queue that we had to stand in, even though it was a concert by invitation, was so long) that I began to feel fretful and wonder why I had come.

But it was wonderful - a beautifully explained and presented set of tunes and ragas by Amjad Ali Khan and an inspired performance by his sons and the accompanying percussionist on the tabla.  It opened my mind to the incredible range and depth of this string instrument and the very different style of playing (strings were plucked using only the finger nails).  Amjad Ali Khan's expertise lies in understanding and expressing the mood or emotion of a composition; he displays a certain gentleness and involvement in the process that emanates to the audience.  I attach a link below showing an excerpt of his concert with Zakir Hussain (which he dedicates to great musicians and the memory of those musicians who are no longer with us).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mAlEsGPOpB0

Amaan and Ayaan are very skilled and intense players, each with his own style.  Speed is one of their strengths and they went back and forth, effortlessly, with increasing tempo, the tabla player adding his bit, keeping the audience mesmerized.  However, I personally preferred Amjad Ali Khan's music and the way he could express all kinds of things with his instrument.  The link below (showing all three in a concert) gives an indication of this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQ9xzPYE4c8

This family (the Bangash gharana) is only one of several families of music (gharanas) of the sarod.  Amjad Ali Khan's ancestors migrated from Central Asia to India.  Amjad Ali Khan's father, Haafiz Ali Khan, an iconic musician, settled in Gwalior, under the patronage of the royal family.

Ali Akbar Khan, another incredible sarod player (no longer alive), of the Maihar gharana, has left behind wonderful recordings.  His father, Allaudin Khan, left home and moved from Bangladesh to India when he was a child, to learn music.  He eventually became also a royal court musician, an eminent teacher - and could play 200 instruments!  Of these, he selected to teach his son the sarod (which he had structurally modified considerably) - an instrument that he felt could produce the sound of many instruments put together.

I had unwittingly heard Ali Akbar Khan many times over while listening to 'Concert For Bangladesh' - a recording of two incredible benefit concerts held for Bangladesh, by George Harrison and Ravi Shankar in 1971.  The Indian section features Ali Akbar Khan along with Ravi Shankar, but somehow, much of the attention is focussed on Ravi Shankar, perhaps as he was co-organizer.  However if you listen to this folk song (a tune called Bangla Dhun), it begins with Ravi Shankar on the sitar and subsequently Ali Akbar Khan joins in on the sarod, adding a depth and richness that the sitar alone would not provide.  Unfortunately, I could not find a video recording of this and am attaching an audio link.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vo7lxXW6tO0

A couple of these recordings are over ten minutes, but you need only to listen to a few minutes of each, if you wish, to get an idea of the sounds.  Steeped though I am in musical ignorance, I feel I have learnt much by attending the last concert and I am glad I impatiently stood in line to do so!

The Changing Shape Of Yoga

Some stray thoughts on the changing 'yoga scene' within and outside the country -

As with many ancient Indian systems of study, yoga was not formally put down in writing until thousands of years after it began.  Information was passed on from teacher to student and the system diversified as multiple schools arose.  This imparted a certain flexibility to the system; each school emphasized specific aspects and developed them over time.

In the last few years, however, the changes have been more drastic and driven by market forces rather than real reasons for change.  I have been thinking about this for some time now as each time I drive out to the main road, I see large hoardings proclaiming how you can lose 3 kgs. in 15 days by attending a certain yoga class.  These classes are apparently packed, mostly with younger people.  These, and other classes, now offer yoga that is practiced in tune to different kinds of music, somewhat akin to aerobic workouts.  To me, the postures demonstrated don't look perfect, but apparently that's not what people are looking for.  Stretching in silence is boring.

There have always been some teachers who have taught while continuously giving directions and verbally correcting students.  One aim of this exercise is to try and keep the students' minds "on the job".  I feel fortunate to have attended a class where the practice was carried out mostly in silence.  My yoga teacher often corrected me, initially by physical adjustments, and subsequently just by signs indicating which part I had to readjust.  The emphasis was on focussing inwards.  When one attempts this, the mind settles down and you attain a certain peace and inner equilibrium.  This internal focussing brings a kind of transformation that nothing from the outside can ever achieve.  But often I suppose people don't trust themselves (or their students) to this silence and to listening to oneself from within.

My yoga classes are long over as my teacher moved to another town, to teach.  I was glad to be able to meet him over Diwali, when he was visiting Bangalore.  Some of our conversation revolved around the numerous classes and advertisments for yoga that are flooding the cities.  He told me that his current classes were very poorly attended.  I was amazed, for I believe he is a very good teacher - compassionate and experienced with knowledge of some old, classical styles.  I asked what the reason was, as many other yoga centres seem to be doing very well.  He shrugged and said that people found the class too intense and wanted it simplified.  This sounded strange because one important aspect of his class has always been that each person goes at his or her own pace.  He claimed that people didn't want to put in the effort on a regular basis.

Of course, many other factors might also play a role.  His traditional (and fixed) hours may not be convenient for all; many yoga studios offer walk in classes through the day with different teachers and different styles of yoga.  It's hard to compete with that but all these are led-classes (where everyone in the group follows one format); very little personal attention can be given especially if the numbers are large.

There are also apparently certain times of the year when yoga classes are more frequented.  In the 'yoga hotspots' which have emerged in different parts of India, teaching yoga is often a '6 month business' that coincides with the travel and holiday season.  The rest of the time, the schools shut down or slow down and the better teachers go elsewhere to teach.  This makes it difficult to sustain a serious school in one of these areas.

Over-secularisation is another hazard to the teaching of yoga.  Several people have asked me about the religious overtones of yoga.  The answer is, of course, that there are none.  Well, not absolutely, because, as with most ancient systems of philosophy, yoga is based on certain assumptions about what comprises an individual and how a person is linked to a higher source of energy.  This is what the philosophy of yoga has in common with several other Indian systems of philosophy and spirituality.  The religion and rituals of Hinduism have also developed in this milieu and there is naturally a social and cultural overlap in the way some of the thoughts are expressed.  But that is a very tiny aspect and is not relevant when it comes to the practice of yoga.  The aim (rather definition) of yoga (as mentioned in the earliest known text, the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali) is to alleviate fluctuations in the mind, intellect and conscious self.  Nothing more (and nothing less)!

Many schools outside India have stopped reciting the prayers that are typically chanted at the beginning of the class so as to make people of various (or no) leanings comfortable.  I have no cause to complain about this all-inclusive approach.  The prayers were always in Sanskrit (for obvious reasons), a language not everyone is comfortable with and one that most people are not familiar with.  However I continue to say the prayer I have been taught; I find the sound very soothing and helpful in focussing my mind.  This is a prayer to the teachers of yoga, beginning with Patanjali, asking them to help us remember the objectives of yoga in our practice.  I always find it a good reminder and a nice way to express my gratitude to those who have helped me learn.

Certain semantic aspects of new approaches to yoga have taken me completely by surprise.  Recently a friend told me that in some Indian Universities, teaching of Surya Namaskar (the Sun Salutation) has been banned because of its religious connotation.  She attended a class where the instructor refused to teach this set of movements.  Surya Namaskar is the beginning (the warm up exercise) of yogasanas (yogic postures).  It is traditionally done facing the east.  In some schools of yoga, a prayer to the sun is chanted first.  We don't say any prayers because we follow a style where the movements are uninterrupted and repeated at least for five or ten rounds (about half an hour), leaving no extra breath for anything!  This is a particularly beautiful set of movements that warms each part of the body without causing any pulls or strains (by 'warm' I mean that in summer one is dripping with sweat at the end of this practice!) and expels mucous that may be blocking the nose or throat, clearing the respiratory passage.  These are a small subset of the regular yoga postures that have been linked together in a dynamic fashion.  Often when one has no time for a complete practice, one just does Surya Namaskar to get the circulation going.  To eliminate them without understanding anything about their purpose, just because they happen to be called Sun Salutations, seems to me a tremendous pity.

These, of course, are some of the stranger trends I have come across.  I'm sure there are successful schools which rise above populist sentiments and focus on the depth and vast range of possibilities that yoga offers.  But they are few and getting harder to find.

Rain, Apples and Cinnamon

Just a few days after the cyclone, the north-eastern monsoons have stepped in, or rather gusted in, bringing thick clouds and rain at all hours.  We barely got a fortnight of sunshine squeezed in between two heavy monsoons.

I am grateful for the apple season - there's a bumper harvest this year and apple growers in the north are concerned about crashing prices.  No trace of this is evident down south, in Bangalore, where we are still subsisting on pomegranates and oranges.  These fruits are refreshing, but there's not much in terms of wholesome baking that can be done with them.

And these days, steeped in misty mornings and wet evenings, hot apple with a scent of spice is what I long for.  Fortunately, several visitors from Delhi have brought an unending supply of fresh apples for me - tangy golden ones and sweet red ones from the hills of Himachal and Kashmir.

I have spent the last few weeks trying out a range of apple recipes with the bruised, left overs (the best way to eat them of course is as they are) and here are some of my observations:

For sheer elegance, nothing can beat a classic French apple tart - a layer of crisp pastry topped with soft apple filling and covered with thin, lightly caramelized apple slices and perhaps a bit of glaze.  A variety of taste and texture in every mouthful.

One of the tastiest apple desserts, in my view, is Tarte Tartin - the French recipe where apples are bathed in caramel and topped with a crisp, buttery pastry.  I don't throw the tart on the floor (as the legendary Tartin sisters supposedly did) or even turn it over on a plate (the more conventional way) because I feel the pastry stays crisper when it remains on top.  No tartin pans or special skillets are required to make this here, for we have our own stainless steel dabbas, which make very good containers.

However, this comes more in the 'indulgence' category of desserts and it inevitably requires a side serving of cream, which adds to the calories.  I like crumbles too, but I face the same problem - if they're hot and crisp, they beg for a scoop of ice cream or a dollop of cream on the side.  So, instead, for everyday wholesome snacking, I make a plain spiced apple pie.  This uses a very basic crust and a delicious filling of a little bit (but not too much) of all the things that go well with apples - lemon, orange, brown sugar, butter and cinnamon.  Nutmeg and cloves are good too but apple and cinnamon have always been a classic pair.

When the stomach refuses fresh apples, apple stew is a marvel.  Apples, sliced and stewed with just a little sugar, clove and cinnamon are light and satisfying.

And if you like apple in your salad, apples, avocados and walnuts make for a nice combination.  But when they are fresh, I just like to eat them plain!

Vastrabharana - the Annual Saree Exhibition

Come October and Bangalore saree shoppers are on the look out for signs of Vastrabharana.  This is an annual saree exhibition and sale organized by the Crafts Council of Karnataka; weavers and saree sellers from around the country (typically one from each region) are invited to participate.  Unlike many other cloth exhibitions, the emphasis here is on sarees, generally those obtained directly from craftsmen.  This year however, I found that about one third of the sellers were designers or individuals running their own shops.  Not that I have anything against this, but it leaves less room for weavers from smaller places (whose sarees I inevitably end up buying).

However, it's always nice to visit the stalls, to see sarees everywhere - on walls, on shelves, draped alongside mirrors and held in the hands of prospective buyers or sellers.  Yards of beautifully woven material - silk, cotton or a mix of the two as many modern weavers are now using.

This year I bought two sarees, both from traditional weavers - a soft pale green Maheshwari with colours of spring and autumn mixed together in a beautiful way.

The weaver, of course, came from Maheshwar (Madhya Pradesh) and had brought with him a range of these typically light sarees in silk or cotton, woven generally in one main colour with a similar or contrasting pallu (part that is draped over the shoulder).  These are easy to wear for most of the year.

The second saree I selected was quite different - a rich green-gold shot silk with a yellow-orange border and a pallu that was vividly woven with peacocks in orange, blue, green and purple.

Yes!  A typical Paithani saree from Maharashtra.  Colours are bright and thrown together in unimaginable combinations but they look splendid when worn on special occasions.  And with the festival season round the corner, there's no dearth of special occasions!