Weekly photo challenge: Yellow

An exotic visitor to my cousin’s farm

Because flowers are too mainstream. I love this guy. Especially the killer intricate design around his eyes.

Weekly Photo Challenge – Minimalist

Found this abandoned idol in River Cauvery. Blasphemy and hypocrisy at its best.

God, are you listening?

Dear God, I’ve been meaning to write to you for quite some time. In fact, I thought about it during the second week of September, when I came to meet you at the Malur temple. At that time the #IceBucketChallenge was at its peak and I saw you participate too, except it wasn’t voluntary. You were not only doused with ice cold water, but also ghee, milk, curd, honey, sugar, banana pulp, turmeric and so much more. You were in the form of Lord Narasimha that day, the lion-headed form of Vishnu, mythically known for ripping out Hirankashapu’s intestines. I was wondering why people were feeding you, a carnivore, with things that I eat as a pure vegetarian. It struck me as bizarre. But Su offered me another explanation that those were not for you to eat, but they were used to give you a nice snaana so that you can have glowing skin – like royalty, is what she said. But for all I cared, it was just a waste of a packet of Nandini milk and curd, because you were just a rock, sitting there with a poker face, not responding to the beautifying treatment one bit. Instead of wasting it, I could have eaten it, or given it to one of those poor people outside the temple, who would have relished a rare meal delightfully.

Nevertheless, I had a pleasant time at Malur anyway amidst nature, the farmlands, the gigantic shady trees and the stray animals there. Also, at office yesterday, we also did a pooja for you. This time, you were in the form of Saraswathi, the flawless, calm Goddess who plays the veena. Or at least I’m guessing that’s who you were, because I couldn’t see the idol the poojari was dressing up. You were hidden beneath all those flowers and clothes. I was standing way at the back. You might not have seen me either. That pooja was like a test of patience for all of us in office. It went on for half an hour, and 30 people stood before you, shifting restlessly from one leg to the other, sending text messages to postpone meetings and waiting for the final aarti so they could get back to their chairs.

Now, you may wonder why I’m telling you all this. It’s just that every time these kind of mass prayers happen, I never get to talk to you enough. Besides, I’m more comfortable writing to you than talking to you. And I don’t get the point of mass prayers anyway, because at the end of the day, it’s just that one faithful person really praying to you. Everyone else is in their own world, mentally distracted. I don’t mean to offend you by saying you have just one guy praying to you, and I know you know what I mean because you can see right through me, through everybody. That’s what I’ve been told ever since I was born anyway. I don’t see a point in trying to make a conversation with you, because I need to have my eyes closed to concentrate, and a few people find it amusing when I keep my eyes closed. I have been through that phase of course, where I giggled when people tried to concentrate. It just doesn’t make sense. There’s too much distraction. The point of praying to you is to be able to talk to solely you, to thank you for everything you’ve given us and ask you for everything else that we want, right?

I wish you’d let people know that one doesn’t have to travel a thousand kilometres to see you and pray to you. Chumma you let these people do what they think will please you and you laugh at them inwardly. Don’t think I don’t know. It’s not cool, God.

Please somehow let people know that you don’t care about that hundred rupee note that they put in the aarti, or the silk saris they adorn you with or the thousand shlokas they chant without knowing what it means. (I myself can chant the entire vishnusahasranama and I have no clue what a single word means! This blogpost is way more meaningful to me.) Tell them that they don’t have to waste precious resources on idols, when there are a million poor people in this country who don’t have a single rupee. Tell them that all they have to do to please you is be good people. Tell them they don’t have to go out of their way to be good. Even a simple act such as picking something someone dropped and returning it to them is good, right? I sure hope so. It was nice talking to you, God. Thanks for listening.

Happy Birthday Navu!

She’s turns 32 today. She looks perhaps as old as me or a couple years older. She is a doting mother of two. She is a teacher. She is a farmer. She is a fun cousin. A caring sister. A loving wife. A perfect daughter. A daughter-in-law who can’t mingle better into another family. Above all, she is someone you can’t possibly dislike, even if you try. These are her nine facets. My friends call her ‘nine-gems’ because that’s easier to say. Her name is Navarathna.

Yes, we know we look freakishly alike!

This is my cheap way of giving her a birthday gift since I can’t meet her today. I haven’t even spoken to her yet. But she is likely to call me herself by the end of this post, sniffing, teary eyed and fussing and complaining about how it made her cry. Navu, as we call her, is ten years older than me. She was my sister’s best friend when they grew up, often getting their houses mixed up, with Hrishi tottering along behind them (I’m guessing). They played together, took part in fancy dress competitions together and shared each other’s secrets. Of course I know nothing of these incidents. I’m just recollecting the many photo albums I’ve seen. I know they’d share secrets, because as an nagging six or seven-year-old I’d walk into a room when they were (very seriously) discussing that cute guy across the road they called ‘Maddy’ or that “friend” that other cousin hung out with too much or just the routine pains of being a woman, and they’d throw me out of the room because I’d probaby rat out to our parents what they were talking about, or just let me be because I’d not understand their discussions. Although I don’t remember anything from my childhood, I know from what I’ve been told that Navu brought me up like I was her own. She’d take me out of the house, prop me up on the bonnet of a car and make me eat. She was the one person, on whose coming home, I’d delightfully shriek and run and jump onto, like I was a weightless toy.

Navu is someone who has always been there, no matter what. No, it’s not like I call her up when I’m low and pour out my secrets and sorrows to her. But somehow – maybe I’ve always taken her for granted – I have never given a thought to how much she makes a difference in my life. For as long as I met her too often, I was too dumb a kid to understand things and when I was growing up and transforming into the wonderful woman that I am today, she was away in Canada and Mysore. But I look back into my old diaries and see that I’ve made notes about Navu leaving to US and me crying, and me being thrilled about her shifting back to India and happy about her having had a baby. Athough she hasn’t been around too much in the later years, she has been there at the back of my head, telling me what to do and what not to do.

Navu ploughing. Like a boss.

Now, on every occasion that I meet her, I’m mind blown by how enterprising she is and how courageous she is. The last time I was in Mysore, she called me out of the house, took my help to load a bunch of vegetables she grew in her farm into the vehicle and drove to the vegetable shop. It was not any other car she drove. It was a mini truck! How many pretty women do you come across driving a goods vehicle! She went cheerfully to the organic vegetable store, sold the produce to him and smoothly walked out of the store after shaking hands with him when she had struck a good deal. Like a boss! She is just too cool.

And I have never seen better parenting skills. You can’t possibly do a better job with two daughters. Her family is like a repetition of my family. Dad, mum and two daughters who are seven years apart. And you’ll be shocked at how similar the older kid is to my sister and the younger kid, to me. It’s uncanny. The thing is, although Navu is my cousin, I think of her like my own elder sister. She somehow knows me too well. She has always been there, reading every piece of crap I write, commenting on every picture I click and watching every move I make in my life.

Gosh! See! I’ve taken her so much for granted that I haven’t realised that it was her who got me into photography! I mean that’s such a big part of who I am! I’d see pictures she clicked and more than being inspired by the pictures she clicked (no offense), I was inspired by the fact that a woman can do it! Although Sunayana has always been there, shaping me, Navu has been silently playing her role too. My sister never rode a bike or clicked pictures, I’m talking about such tiny things that turn into a big deal. Navu always rode a bike, she’d take me out in the bike everytime I went to her house in Bangalore. We’d go to Shetty angadi and buy Boomer or go to Najundeshwara to buy some provisions or to Ayodhya bakery or to borrow a CD from that shop. (Whoa! I didn’t even know I had memories of these places)!

See, I think Navu knows about me in a way no one else would.  She probably doesn’t even know that. Most of the time, I’m wearing her clothes. Heck I’m wearing her t-shirt right now! And since she’s lost weight, she’s flicking clothes from me as well. Very honestly, she is an inspirational woman. What I like about her the most is how she loves people and gives them a sense of belonging. I love how she coos “gayathri maamiiii uppittu beku” or “Raamiiii hogolo!” or “Eh kothi baare illi” or “Sunuu I miss you yaa!” Just by the way she calls out to you, you know that she loves you! It’s easier said than done, to love everyone. Although it seems like such a simple thing, I think it’s really hard and she’s one of the purest people I know.

Navu, I know this does absolutely no justice at all to anything! It’s just a thoughtful couple of hours dedicated to you. I love you ya.

PS: I wrote this post so that, the next time you come Navu, you actually bring me cake instead of what’s apping pictures to me. :-x (Also, call me up now, with a bit of sniffing and sobbing, otherwise facepalm moment will happen). : P

 

 

The making of Dasara

It’s that time of the year when you climb on stools, creep under beds, cough and sneeze at dust-laden dolls that you fished out, and give some part of your house a makeover. Yes! It’s Dasara – those ten days of holidays, Durga Pooja, Dandiya oh well! Those ten days of doll-keeping, putting-series-lights-outside-the-house and calling-fidgety-kids-home. My sister came over, to help arrange the dolls, because she was in this whole loop of excitement, having called 100 people home and done up a mini Amsterdam in her own house. It was 10pm when we got started.

STEP 1

Step 1 – Pull out old, extremely heavy trunks from under the bed. To do this, you require utmost strength. Or you require utmost ego to not back off while your show-offy skills have failed. You must go ahead and manage it, you’ll crack a hip, break your back, not much else. And not to mention, you must click a picture with shaky hands. (All this, thanks to a completely non-helpful dad who chooses to watch rubbish TV instead).

STEP 2

Step 3: Unveil Toy Land. The dolls may shade their eyes because of sudden bright light. Hence, to protect them, carry out this process during the night if possible. You are also likely to be in awe of rediscovering the same old dolls again.  Calm down. You have a lot of work left. You’ll see them for the next ten days whether you like it or not. So move on.

STEP 3

Step 3: Collect the dolls in a coloured basket. They like colours. They love colours. If you use a plain brown basket, it’ll just feel like a normal day and none of the dolls will smile. If you use colours, you’ll also get nice pictures.

STEP 4

Step 4: Get these guys out. They are the heart of the set-up! Without them, there is no Dasara. Why? No clue. Wait. Let me read up… Ok found nothing on the Internet. But my uncle says, “Raja Rani only signify Lakshmi and Narasimha.” He speculates that it could also be because the concept of celebrating dasara with dolls originated in Mysore, 403 years back (1600’s), which was then ruled by kings and queens. And then he randomly went on to explain to me that Tipu Sultan was a greedy fellow who did fight for independence against the British but at the same time wanted to be the monarch of Mysore, which back then, extended till today’s Bellary and on the other side, till Sultan Bathery, which is now in Kerala. Phew! That’s something! Moving on.

STEP 5

Step 5: Bring out ALL flat objects from every nook and corner of your house. Cardboard boxes in which your dad has stored Castrol Oil, the box of the microwave oven you bought eight years ago, CAT, 2nd PU and Engineering text books, the table on which your massive keyboard is kept (because nobody cares about me having to find a tiny spot on the bed to sleep on, since I’ve to share it with this giant musical instrument), a few of those remaining metal planks you specifically got made for Dasara but your dad decided to take them to the garage, store his tools and make them immovable, all these help you form the steps that your dolls are going to sit on. Do remember that superstition has it that you must NOT have an even number of steps. It has to be either 3, 5, 7 or 9 steps.

STEP 6

Step 6: Cover it up with a white bed sheet. Nobody generally uses these white bed sheets except during Dasara. If a rat has chewed a nice hole through it, then go buy a new one, because a coloured cloth will just be non-Dasara-ish. You could also go lift one off a hotel room.

STEP 7

Step 7: Have a broken gramophone in your display.

STEP 8

Step 8: Ok just kidding. Get your dad to fix it. Give him some work. Seriously!

STEP 9

Step 9: Make up stories with each toy. Here, for instance, is a routine sighting in India. A pretty girl riding a bike, and a creepy guy ogling at her, sitting in his Vespa. (Supriya don’t get mad. I know you gifted me that creepy guy in sixth grade).

STEP 10

Step 10: Give him a girlfriend, shut him up.

Step 11: Add a few traditional dolls to the set-up. They’re the highlights. All these psuedo foreign made-in-China dolls are all just fillers. Dasara is nothing without the Dashavatara, the aforementioned Raja-Rani, a few dolls that constitute a village of some sort, showing daily activities like the churning of butter, etc, people bigger than the houses they live in, animals bigger than the forests they live in, a few dolls of Gods and Goddesses and whatever else you can think of. I, personally, would encourage you to keep absolutely anything you want, even something as absurd as a toilet paper roll or a broken cell phone, if you find the necessicity to, or if you can weave a story with it. My mom, though, wouldn’t encourage that so much. So I suggest, to keep everyone happy and satisfied, you confine yourself to that Harry Potter wand you made in tenth grade or giant tarantula toy you once bought to gift to your niece, but decided to keep it yourself, or your toy reptile collection.

Dashavatara

The head of the Panchayat

Shiva

The oldest couple we have. They are originally over 60 years old!

A potter caught by surprise

A little piece of fairy land

Hare (‘Hare-Y’. Not ‘hair’) Krishna!

My family

Also, here are a few pictures from my sister’s and my cousin’s houses. My sister, like I said, was full enthu and made a mini Amsterdam, full with a hidden RLD and some marijuana and everything!

Study the photo slowly. Take your time

The traditional Golu

Also, my cousin made a cute little village, where babies are as big as cows. Oh the magical fantasies of Dasara!

The sign board says “Way to Gaavadagere village”

That is what Dasara has been like for me this year. Would love to know how yours has been. Ok I’m kidding. Don’t bore me. Ok kidding again. You can show me pictures. :P

You could also read this blog that a second cousin of mine maintains. It’s REALLY good. She has written about Dasara and has some mindblowing pictures!

Ok go now! Go have fun at Dandiya or Durga Pooja! Keep it festive! :)