Thinking of Tamarind

As always, Bangalore has bypassed spring and stepped straight into summer.  There is nothing more reminiscent of summer than ripe tamarind, hanging temptingly from tall trees, just out of reach.  Of course, if the monkeys (and passers by) don't pick them, the pods fall with little thuds onto the carpet of yellowing tamarind leaves laid out below, and one can race with the squirrels to get to them.

It's hard nowadays to see tamarind trees in public areas; earlier they would abound because they are hardy and well suited to this region.  Providing shade, shelter to birds and animals and deliciously sour fruit, one would think people would like more of them around.  Instead we now have exotic foreign varieties of trees and shrubs which have no place for a bird to sit upon and no shade for a person to rest under.

I also love tamarind trees because they are so incredibly beautiful - large but dainty in detail.  The leaves are made of tiny leaflets, dark green initially, which turn lighter over time.  The flowers are also tiny, almost inconspicuous - yellow and red.  From these emerge long dark pods with tender fruit and the most wonderful looking seeds within - a very dark and shiny brown.

Tamarind is used for cooking and in traditional medicine.  (It is also used in parts of Asia to polish brass!)  My favourite way of eating it is just by itself, fresh off the tree, but one can't eat too much of it like that.  I like to make a chutney by boiling and straining it and adding jaggery and salt, to taste.  Much of the time in our house, the chutney is used to make chaat - the wonderful north Indian savoury concoction, made originally when the weather was very hot and the palate was jaded and the stomach needed something cool and refreshing.  Nowadays, it is found everywhere, but with so much fried stuff and chilly powder thrown in that it does my stomach no good.

No, my homemade chaat is made to my specifications - with freshly boiled and diced potato, tiny boiled chickpeas, tamarind chutney, fresh coriander (cilantro) and mint chutney, pomegranate seeds, whipped curd and a hint of fresh ginger and powdered roasted cumin.  In this I add a few crushed papries (small fried savouries) which give it a nice crunch.

Now that summer has begun, although I no longer can pick and use tamarind off the trees, I have made some bottles of chutney and kept them in the refrigerator (where they stay for months).  Bowls of chaat are being served at home in the afternoons, and they are very welcome!

The Wisdom Of Traditional Eating

While everything traditional is not really the best option for a changing world, there is much wisdom stored in old ways, that we disregard or choose to forget.

Japanese scientists recently performed a very interesting experiment (that could have been done anywhere in the world, and probably should) - they took several groups of mice and fed each group with dishes recreated from menus of typical Japanese households in 1960, 1975, 1990 and 2005.  This comprised, for example, of mixed rice with dried whitebait and green seaweed flakes, bean and miso soup with taro and mustard spinach for breakfast as opposed to bacon and eggs, toast and fluffy boiled potatoes.

Not surprisingly, the animals that were fed with traditional diets lived longer and better than the ones fed on modern diets.  (K. Yamamoto et al. Nutrition 32, 122-128; 2016).

Diet induced diseases are on the rise everywhere but India with its large population and changing rural and urban dynamics, sees a huge amount of ill health in a relatively young population.  White rice, sugar, processed foods are common culprits (when consumed on a regular basis in large quantities).  The Harvard School of Public Health recently published a paper showing that people who eat one cup of white rice a day have a high risk of developing type 2 diabetes.  White rice consumption is possibly the single largest factor driving this kind of diabetes in India today.

Recently we got a medical check up done for our driver, who is in his early fifties.  His blood sugar levels were surprisingly high, and, to our consternation, the doctor did not even ask him about his diet!  He just prescribed a standard drug to control the sugar levels.  This is just one illustration of the thoughtlessness that goes behind treating diet and lifestyle induced illnesses and the importance of awareness in preventing and controlling such situations.

Should rice eaters switch to brown rice?  Brown rice does not necessarily have a lower glycemic index (i.e. the amount it increases the blood sugar level by); the glycemic index of rice is species-dependent.  But brown rice is heavier to eat (thus one eats less); it also contains vitamins, minerals, oil and fibre which are nourishing and are absent in white rice.  Indian scientists have now developed a new variety of rice that looks white but is unpolished and are trying to introduce this into people's diets (the rationale being that many people don't like the look of unpolished rice).

Appearances do rule the world!  There is a story about a Thai princess who once saw some workers eating unpolished rice that was coarse and ugly looking.  Out of kindness, she declared that these workers must be given white rice to eat, and thereby began their health problems!

India is blessed with a huge variety of traditional foods - many kinds of rice, lentils, millets, wheat, corn and vegetables.  A little thought in choosing what one eats would go a long way.  Of course, what we eat is very important, but almost as important, I think, is how and when we eat.  Eating with awareness (and, if possible, appreciation) of one's food, and at regular and proper times, helps tremendously.

I quote below from two very different books about some traditional forms of food and eating, that charmingly remind us of things forgotten-

"Viennese children were brought up to a rumbling accompaniment of admonitions... But the hardest to understand and to obey, "Don't spoil your appetite - Du sollst deinen Appetit nicht verderben!" was thundered so often and so sternly that it sounded like a latter-day commandment.
   It was doubly difficult for children to learn not to spoil their appetites, because their parents condemned as extremely harmful all the sweets which they really wanted to eat, while all the things they didn't want to eat anyway, such as Spinat (an even less popular word than spinach) and farina pudding, were the rewards for which their parents expected them to keep their appetites intact.  But when they had grown up and had made the happy discovery that they were keeping their appetites unspoiled for better things than farina and spinach, they appreciated the wisdom of the admonition; and they, in turn, drummed the same old lesson into their own children.  as  a result, all Viennese sat up straight at the table and kept unspoilt that most precious possession- their guten Appetit.
   The fine point at which the Viennese were no longer spoiling their appetites and were, in fact, correctly gratifying them was established geographically and horologically.  Anything eaten anywhere except in the dining room, no matter how tempting or nourishing, was frowned upon.  Anything eaten before the appointed dinner hour was considered a definite spoiling of the appetite.  Everything that was eaten in the dining room, after one sat down at the table- with clocklike punctuality and very straight, of course, was smiled upon as legitimate and proper dining, the very thing for which the appetite had been so carefully protected and preserved.  Under these circumstances, the announcement of dinner was always greeted with the greatest pleasure, unless for some unthinkable reason it was late, in which case their were frowns and an audible "Endlich- at last!" when the dining room doors were opened.  No one lingered; they leapt to their feet and began a light and elegant stampede to the dining room and to the long awaited Vorspeise...

 ...What's more the guests no longer sit quite so straight at table, and, to the horror of the cook, they are not nearly so punctual in reaching the dining room as once was the reliable custom when dinner was announced with the striking of the clock."
 (Gourmet's Old Vienna Cookbook, A Viennese Memoir, by Lillian Langseth-Christensen and Leo R. Summers)

"Burmese food is for eating mainly just before morning's pleasantness is lost to the heat of the noon, and again as the cool of evening falls, and eating together is a buttress against dusk's approach.
   Ideally, you should have, minutes before eating, a quick-pouring bath, put on clean loose clothes, and go straight to table.
   Traditionally no wines or spirits, and certainly no tidbits of food, should come between your palate and that table, simultaneously laid with the full meal.  However, present eating shows that foreign wines or Mandalay beer accompanies Burmese food agreeably.
   No flowers or other inedible decoration should be on the table, least of all for guests to whom most hospitality is due.  Eating is the pleasure, and when you in turn are a guest, do not discount the food by an undue amount of conversation.
   A meal's importance is such that, as no one should interrupt yours, so no one who walks in to find you at one should pass by without an invitation to eat.  The carpenter, masseur, bill collector, or postman will recognize the form of your invitation and reply, "I've eaten, please carry on."  A friendly  acquaintance, whom you must press till he sits at the table with a filled plate may sit long and leave the food untouched.  Your close friends who say, "All right then, just a bit of that one," will go on eating till they've shown your family how good your cooking is.
   Burmese food, therefore, must be cooked in quantity and be stretchable by nature.  Today's priorities in your budget might make this difficult.  However customs still enable you to enjoy this traditional gregarious eating.  Tell a sister or friend that tonight your family will bring its dinner over..."
  (Cook And Entertain the Burmese Way, by Mi Mi Khaing)

Catching Up

While parties have a certain zing, there's nothing I like better than catching up one on one with friends.  Last week was particularly packed with such meetings - there were six of them, sometimes more than one in a day.

I began rather hesitantly, cooking over the weekend, for a visiting uncle.  There were the usual ups and downs, as happens when one is cooking special food after a long time.  One really needs to keep at it, to keep one's hand in.

I made dum biryani - a mix of marinated, tenderized meat (uncooked) covered with layers of rice (partially cooked), fried onions, potatoes, curd and spices, and left to steam gently until everything is cooked and the flavours meld together.  It was nice but ended up being rather smoky in flavor as the pan wasn’t heavy enough.  There were a couple of lessons that I relearnt in this process : pans are as important as ingredients, and never make a one dish meal unless you are very sure your guests don’t mind if things don’t turn out perfectly.  In this case, my uncle didn’t mind in the least, and we had a very pleasant evening, catching up on family news.

I was much more confident for the next dinner, though it happened rather suddenly.  Our friend, who initially said he would be coming after a root canal (so we only had to keep ice cream for him) cancelled his dental appointment!  But I managed to put some things together, and had just baked a batch of brownies (which went well with the ice cream) so it all ended well.  In this way, things proceeded – each meal that I cooked seemed easier than the last.

It was tiring at times, but so much fun!  It was wonderful to catch up with friends, to talk about serious things – ups and downs, laugh over frivolities and discuss dreams and goals – I think one is really only comfortable with friends when one can talk about one’s dreams without worrying that people will laugh or be dismissive about them.

When all this was over, the house and I were quiet once more.  There was plenty of time for thought and introspection.  Time to catch up with oneself. 

Last summer, I had been discussing which path I may take, once my baby grew a little older.  I have so many interests that it takes me a while to figure out what I want to do at each step in my life.  And I have reached the stage where I could only seriously give time to one more new thing, if at all.  I had a vague sense that I would just want to continue where I left off before my pregnancy, but the sense of certainty eluded me.  Then suddenly it was back – yesterday, when I realized that I would indeed, like to pick up the threads where I had left them and see where they took me – in the same direction, or perhaps on a slightly modified path over time.

I realized that it felt so right to be cooking (though it sounds rather frivolous, it’s not, and besides, as a close friend said, “What’s wrong with frivolity?”).  My focus has changed a little over the past few years.  I have always been interested in baking, and have been trying, a little at a time, to bake Viennese (by far the most interesting recipes that I have come across) cakes, tortes and tarts, and French breads.  In the future I think I would like to focus on artisanal breads; bread making is heady and addictive (as is bread eating)!  Perhaps, if I have some time to spare, I would like to persuade some chefs to teach me how to use the tandoor (the traditional Indian clay oven).

I have a list of cooking related aspirations (making new baby foods, an accessible school to train cooks, a cookbook that is in progress) but baking tops the list.

And, of course, to continue writing.  Books, if possible, but blogs for sure.  It’s the best way I know of to catch up with all my thoughts!

Thoughts on the film 'Bend It Like Beckham'

Last month I chanced to see the film 'Bend It Like Beckham' once more.  I needed a spirited song for a cultural event, and this film (British in origin but Punjabi in spirit) is liberally strewn with them.  Though it's described as an Indian film (in some parts of the US) and a British Indian comedy (elsewhere), it goes far beyond its labels.  It is filmed largely in Southall (London), and now, no one disputes its essentially British (and British Indian) nature.

I had enjoyed watching it the first time, but it was only this time as I sat and saw it in small snippets, that I realized what a terrific film it is (including its very apt name).  What makes it stand out is the attention to detail in in ways that matter - a witty and well written script, a plot that bends and weaves like Beckham's game and keeps one engrossed till the very end, characters and situations that one can relate to and an excellent cast.  It shows normal every day affairs and problems of normal people (no sinister villains or vamps!) who manage to remain relatively positive while dealing with their lives.  One might argue that things are simplified, angst is played down and complex situations trivialized, but one doesn't really get that feeling at the end of the film.  People seem to accept their 'culture' (viewed, naturally, very differently by the immigrant Indian parents and their essentially British children) and to deal with all the confusion that this causes in different ways - through submission, rebellion, deception, confrontation and more.  But through all this, there is an all-encompassing element of acceptance of diversity that is emphasised along with the importance of listening to the voice of one's heart, and this makes the film especially endearing.

It's always nice to see a film about sports people, especially women (who often seem to have have a much harder time than men) and there are very few films that deal with these issues.  This film has apparently motivated many women to come out and play football and a women's football team was set up in Delhi after people saw the film.  Beckham, a supporter of women's football, apparently said he wished more women would play it and that it would become more of a family sport; this might make it a less aggressive game.

The film is filled with passion, colour, bits of music and Punjabi sentences that all fit in very naturally.  Being a Punjabi myself, perhaps helped me appreciate some of the dialogues and music (not all the Punjabi lines are translated into English, which adds spontaneity and a certain element of ethnicity to the film).

I don't want to go on in too much detail about the film as it's meaningless unless people have seen it (and I don't want to give away the story), but this comes across as a film made from the heart.  Gurinder Chadha (who wrote, produced and directed it) said that it was made at a time when she had just lost her father, and while she was grieving.  Perhaps this coloured some of the scenes, for they are much more Indian (and reminiscent of the way families lived and celebrated life in the seventies and eighties) than most Indian films.  So, watch this film, if you like sound and colour, wit and compassion and - football!

(A small note, with reference to how I reacted to the film in terms of the traditional Chinese five elements - the film strongly appealed to my water element as it is about people weaving their way through tremendous obstacles and finding a way out.  Not by aggression or submission but by wearing down the difficulties, the way water does.  It is about moving in ways that people around you may not expect, so as to reach your goal - not in a straight line but in a curve that doesn't lose sight of the target.

Interestingly, Beckham (who makes a brief appearance in the film) is a water person too - he looks a bit uncomfortable when immersed in a promotional song, but is so skillful and sure of himself on the field - a chameleon like transformation, typical of water personalities, that is interesting to see).

I am not attaching any snippets of the film as it's best to watch all or none of it!  There are several versions available online, only a few are full length (about 1 hour and 52 minutes in duration).  However,  I am attaching a link to an interview with two of the lead characters (British Indian and Irish!) taken on the eve of the film's release - I think no one had any idea how popular it would become and how some of the actors' careers would spiral upwards after its release.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1NfTltw8g8Q

Why 'No School'?

I wasn't planning to write this blog until I had done all my homework- read up a lot more and visited all th schools on my list (as of now I haven't done anything other than to read some general books by Maria Montessori and make flying visits to a couple of play schools, to drop other kids).

But as days go by and more and more people ask me about school decisions, and as I observe my son (almost two) growing, I realize that for this year, the decision is 'No school'.

What are compelling reasons to send children to school at the age of two?  I think school is desirable when a child cannot get time and attention at home, for various reasons.  Many people tell me that I will see great changes in my child soon after he begins school.  He will express himself more forcefully and distinctly, be more aware of social situations and interactions.  But do I really want all these changes rapidly induced in a little child?  I don't think so.

From the perspective of the school, what is the advantage to admitting children early on?  Education is a business (pardon my cynicism).  Apart from this, I spoke to some teachers and administrators.  Many told me about how two years onwards is a sensitive learning period for children and specialists and experts in the area are better equipped to tackle these learning phases rather than parents.  (That's a subjective view, in my opinion).

Only one or two teachers seemed to endorse the option of staying at home.  One of my relatives, who has worked intensively with the old Loretto nuns in education, said that the nuns would never admit children younger than four to their schools, as children are not ready to be separated from their mothers much before that.  She has seen a lot of anxiety syndromes in young children who are forced to leave home and attend school.  Apart from this, not all teachers have the patience of saints; apparently several complain when toddlers who come to school are not toilet trained and so on.

Schools have started taking children earlier and earlier on because they apparently feel they will 'miss out on the good students'.  Neither my relative nor I could make sense of this explanation!  Perhaps it is a question of keeping up with the Jadejas, looking over one's shoulder to see what other reputed schools are doing and doing the same, perhaps earlier.  For this reason, school hours also keep increasing (some schools function as day care centers cum schools, forgetting that there may be some parents who do not need day care facilities).  Each year, the child is expected to achieve certain 'landmarks' and each teacher wants to be sure she has ticked everything off the list, so the children are taught many things, some of which they are not ready to learn.  This is part of the inside story, and though I have no expertise in this area, I believe it is true, just because of the advertising and all the talk, and from what I see of the little children and their school notebooks and their approach to books and activities.

Apart from this, the reason I don't want to take my son to school right now is because he is still physically growing in spurts.  This means that the body and mind periodically seem to undergo major changes or readjustments that need energy from within.  This changes his daily activities and sometimes even his eating and sleeping times. He seems to have an innate sense of what is needed for him just like animas do, and I respect this.  Right now, for example, he seems to be having some trouble with  new tooth that is emerging.  He is not in pain but it has been difficult for him to sleep during the early morning hours.  So he has skipped his breakfast and is now fast asleep.  How does one manage all this within an inflexible routine, and moreover, how does a child explain all this to teachers, who may not understand or trust him well enough?

There are other reasons for staying at home, which have more to do with our lifestyle and surroundings.  Currently we are in a peaceful academic campus, which has a lot of space to walk around, a lot of natural surroundings to explore and plenty of sports facilities.  I am at home and free to spend time with my son and help him learn in a relaxed atmosphere, based on his needs.  Apart from this, we have family and friends in different parts of the country (and world) who are always happy to see us.  These few years are a good time to travel, a little at a time, meet new people and see different ways of life.  It is something that school, books and television cannot really teach in comparable ways.

These days we awaken peacefully and go for an early morning walk.  Then we sit together as a family and have a relaxed breakfast.  After this, my son sits and listens to some music while I quickly finish some household chores.  Finally, off we go - exploring the campus - looking at flowers, trees, stones, sand, cars and people who are doing different things.  Sometimes the people talk to us.

When the day gets hot, my son splashes in his tub, looks at water droplets that retain their shape, tries to sink various toys that bob up, puts little mugs into bigger mugs, mops the floor and does many other fun and thought provoking things.  After looking at some books and eating a small snack, he serenely drifts off to sleep.

School, on the other hand, would mean waking up at a fixed time, rushing to get ready, gulping down some food and hurrying again to beat the office traffic.  By the time one is done with all that, one is already a little exhausted.  And that's what we all have to do, anyway, for twelve years or more. So why begin earlier than necessary?

So, here's to a year of doing things in and around home.  Of course, I plan to visit the schools and check the admission requirements and what children are expected to know by the time they enter proper school.  I don't think it will be difficult teaching much of that at home, at the right time and in an enjoyable way.

More on Dhakai Sarees

My blog on Dhakai sarees evoked an unexpectedly large response over time.  Many people wrote asking for more details, so I decided to put a few more pictures here.  These pictures are actually in response to a specific query and I have accordingly selected the sarees, but the range they have is wider than this.

The saree seller's name is Ranjit. He travels between India and Bangladesh, selling sarees that his family weaves.  The designs and patterns are changing; I note many larger prints and brighter colours, but there is enough, I think, to suit several styles and tastes.  The number of very traditional patterns is diminishing (perhaps as everywhere) and it is hard to explain to craftsmen the beauty of tradition when all around they see change (perhaps their customers too want different things each year).  Certain old colours (an orange, an onion skin) have vanished altogether, to be replaced by new, brighter pinks, maroons, turquoises and purples.

Anyway, I have taken some pictures, two of each saree.  The first (pictures on the left) showing in detail the border and a part of the main saree and the second (pictures on the right) showing the pallu (aanchal) of the same saree.  (Sarees number 2 and 3 are identical in pattern, one is off white and red and the other is off white and black) Here they are:

1) Mugai Tassar

2) Tangai

3) Tangai

4) Jamdani

5) Jamdani

6) Jamdani

7) Jamdani Badal lata

8) Jamdani Badal lata

9) Muslin

10) Muslin Jamdani

11) Muslin

12) Tassar Jamdani

After looking at all these, I couldn't help buying one of them!  Here is what I chose - a red and off white Jamdani.

Ending The Year In Kolkata

I was in Kolkata for Christmas.  During the rest of the year, I don't mind calling it Kolkata but at Christmas it's always Calcutta for me.  Changing times, political climes and tastes have altered Park Street and other Christmassy neighbourhoods but there is still something special - an extra spark in the typically excitable Bengali, at Christmas.

I spent this time mostly in and around Ballygunge, where I stayed.  It's an old residential area with a large, bustling (and well known) local market.  In the mornings, I walked past old houses that had seen four generations (or more), some spick and span and some old and cobwebby.  Vendors walked down the streets, pushing little carts.  The much publicised (and oft criticised) rickshaws still plied here, moving adroitly in and out of the narrow streets.  Yellow Kolkata taxis honked their way through.

The market was a short walk away.  I like to visit it early in the morning, before the traffic builds up.  It's always bustling and loaded with fresh produce and seasonal specials.  Vegetables are piled high everywhere.  On weekends, people come from the outskirts to sell special and unusual local vegetables - ferns, delicate greens, herbs and more.

The fish market is expectedly large and noisy.  Glistening fish lie on gleaming steel counters indoors and on wooden planks, ice filled cane baskets or atop fresh green banana leaves outdoors.  There is a fish for every meal, occasion or whim!

Individual book shops still survive despite the ubiquitous chains.  One manages to get a slightly different selection here, both for adults and children.  A particularly nice book I read this time (for children but nice for anyone) was 'The Cloud Tea Monkeys', written by Mal Peet and Elspeth Graham and wonderfully illustrated by Juan Wijngaard.  It is a story set in the Assam tea gardens during the colonial period.

A visit to Kolkata implies being plied with lots of food - The typical Kolkata fish chops, rice, dal and gandharaj nimbu (a very fragrant and special lime, which I have now planted in my garden).  Winter squash, tender radishes, greens, lobster and more.

And sweets!  Local sweets can never be forgotten even in the midst of Christmas confectionary and we have a terrific selection of goodies awaiting us at home.  We like our tried and tested old sweet shops but every corner has a little one, serving tea, sweets and savouries.  This is the season for fresh palm jaggery (notun gur) which imparts a delicious sweetness that is flavourful but not cloying.  A very special taste.

Each neighbourhood seems to have new bakeries now, and their standard is quite high.  Amongst the many, we discovered  Mrs. Magpie, a quaint bakery located near the lakes (we walked around the lakes every afternoon as Nayan peered down to look at the fish, threw leaves in the water and climbed little hillocks that must have appeared like giant mountains to him).  This tea shop was always overflowing with people, and had some lovely little cakes, scones and biscuits to offer.

A visit to the local jeweller was a must and this time I ordered a bangle for myself, which he will make and keep for me in iron and gold.  It is a very traditional 'marriage' bangle that new shops no longer stock because it is not glittery enough.  The wall of the jeweller's shop has a picture of a yogi and fresh flowers are offered to this image every day.  Indeed, Kolkata is the homeland of yogis (of course nothing compared to the Himalayas but several enlightened and accomplished teachers have lived here over the centuries and have reached out to many people all over the world).  This spirit seems to permeate the very soul of the city - at least that is what I feel and sense each time I visit.  In the midst of the noise, grime, dense air, raucous traffic and extra loud human voices, it is easy to forget this, but one only has to look at little streets and corners and close one's eyes - and the signs of strong positive traditions stand out.

This is also the last blog if the year, and with it I send my new year wishes to all of you.  I hope that despite the tempests that might swirl about you in the coming year, you are also touched by fragile rainbows, freshly fallen dew, orange and gold sunsets, silvery moonshine and starbursts.  By all the beauty that passes through and leaves us with a sense of peace and wonderment, reminding that the world is essentially a good place.  Happy new year!