A Birthday memoir on April Fool's

Prank? Joke?

Today is the 1^st of April, a day reserved for pranksters. When I was a younger, I used to try really hard to come up with a good April Fool's Day trick. But who was I kidding? I don’t have a single funny bone in my being, and jokes never come easy to me. But in my class was this other girl, a sorta tomboy character who enjoyed reading Hardy Boys rather than Nancy Drew and preferred basketball and other sweaty sports to staying indoors. Thressy had a sense of humour to match her April 1^st birthday.

Kainady farmhouse at Thamarassery

But I’m a November born. Every year, I pretend that I don't care about my birthday. What is all this fuss about, I keep saying. Secretly hoping that I’d be spoilt rotten, by the people I love. So when my best buddies called to cancel their birthday visit plan, I sensed a conspiracy - a surprise maybe, and so I waited. 

That day, I was up early, but when the doorbell stayed silent well past the expected hour, reality sunk in. The excuses were genuine and the cancellation for real. To cheer me up, my husband suggested we stick to our original plan of visiting Thressy at her farmhouse.

One for love

Thamarassery, is a slow little town on the foothills of Wayanad, and as we left the main market place and drove further up, the landscape changed from beautiful to magnificent. A case of mistaken identity and a small detour later, we arrived at the plantation. Thressy was at the gate to usher us in, and on the dining table awaiting my arrival was this pretty little cake that her mother had baked. It was decorated with fresh flowers from the garden, and when I closed my eyes to make a wish, I knew it was going to be a good day after all.

Cake and lunch later, we set out for a walk. The estate was set up by her grandfather and his uncle in the 1940's. When they first decided to start their plantation here, in the rugged and mountainous region, they were faced with the task of taming the wild undergrowth and surviving the unknown. I imagined their struggles must have been similar to those undergone by Mathew and Elsa in Malaya (characters from Amitav Ghosh's The Glass Place, which I was reading at that time). 

The magic rub

Here too, the main crop is rubber, but nestling beneath the tall trees were pineapple shrubs. Thressy had answers to all my questions, I'm guessing others before me have quizzed her thus. From her I learnt that a rubber tree lives for 30 years, and it takes five or six years for it to mature and yield the white milk or sap. Of course this also means that during the early stages, when the trees need looking after, the land is positively yield-less. That is where the tropical pineapples come in, because they make the best intercrop. 

Our walk turned out to be a pleasurable exercise with her pointing out and naming every tree and shrub there was. Sajeev and I learnt to recognize the magnificent Mahogany, to spot and step away from the parachuting itchy-worms that live on tall teak trees, to differentiate between coffee and coco (in my defense, they look rather similar in their fruitless state). There were others too... like the cannon ball tree and the Elephant Ear Figs, but I’ve completely lost track of all the others she pointed out.

Fishing...

I’m not an outdoorsy person, (but you probably known that already from my earlier trekking post), and until then I had never really given fishing a thought. But that’s what we did next, at a small pond in the estate. Hook, line and sinker in hand, I waited for my first catch. Of course Thressy being the expert caught a large one just minutes after she had lowered the hook. Sajeev soon caught up with her, and just when I thought I'll never be able to catch one before losing my patience, there it was. A slight tug, a reflexive pull, and I caught my first fish ever! The stem of a coconut leaf was cleverly fashioned to hold all the fishes together and proudly we walked back home. What a day this was turning out to be, but the fun was just beginning.

We went in, got out the inflatable boat, took turns to fill it with air and then carried it all the way back to the lake, for a boating session. My first few attempts at rowing ended up with the boat going around in circles, but soon the rhythm of the water took over and it started moving in the direction that I wanted it to go. Boating done, it was time to visit the footwear factory.

'em chic Methyz 

Thressy’s folks own Methiyadi, the colourful, comfortable and chic footwear brand. I can vouch for its durability, because my pair has lived through the long Triund trek (check the pics) and the travels in Turkey. To finally see them being made at her factory, with the rubber collected from the plantation I had just visited, was something else. Uncle Tom took us on a guided tour of the factory, explained the manufacturing, colouring and assembling process, and also gifted me a brand new pair!

Oh, and then there was Yoyo (short for yojimbo which translates to bodyguard in Japanese), the cutest little baby pug. He was just three weeks old, and was already a handful. He behaved like he owned the place, sneaked under our legs, yelped and squealed when we accidentally stepped on his tiny tail, tripped on the TV wires, pulled things down and did everything possible to gain our attention. And when he was tired of all his silly games, he came by and slept at (and sometimes on) our feet. But that was for just a while; soon he’d be up again, going over the whole routine.

Sitting pretty: Yoyo

When hard work mushrooms

It was getting dark, and was time for us to call it a day. But before that we made one final stop at Harithavidhya, an NGO run by the Kainady family to promote sustainable farm management practices. Here, farmers are given training and new skill sets and also access to books and literature that deal with similar topics. The remnants of a mushroom farming class remained in one of the rooms - small little bulbs growing from within a strawlined plastic bag. Of all the birthdays I've ever had, this was the most unique - fabulous new experiences and food for thought. 

So today, on Thressy’s birthday, as she celebrates it in new and faraway Korea, between lab assignments and class work, I dedicate this post to her, and wish her a birthday that is as exciting as the one she ensured I had. 

Today, on your birthday Thressy.....

Comeback Season

"Hey, I'm back!.... Bringing you stories you've never heard..."  yes yes, my heart sings in true Karan Johar Broadway isthyle. If you don't get the reference, check the video.

I'm finally at my desk, writing a blog post after a gap of nearly 7-months. That's a really long writers block I had there.. But hey, a lot has happened and I just wasn't able to find my personal space and center.

To begin with, I quit my really exciting television job to follow my husband across the county, across seven states to be precise and a little more than 2500 Kms.

Still waters

We bought a countryside home, on the banks of an almost-always still flowing river. Sometimes I wonder if it's really there, and just then, as if to banish my fears, this bright blue kingfisher living on the nearby coconut tree, swoops down for his daily catch, upsetting the stillness to create green circular ripples. Or a lone boatman rows by. Silently.

We have called our place 'Prarthana' which means, a prayer

I was under the impression that when I finally traded the high pressure TV job to play full time missus and part time educator, voice over artist and stage show host (yeah I juggle well), I'd have more time to write.

How wrong was I!! A new house I discovered is like a just born, always crying for attention. The towel ring needs to be fixed, the door needs an extra latch, the tap needs a mesh, the fan needs fixing, and well... ufff.. the list could go on and on and on..

And if it wasn't the house, then it was one of the other jobs. A late night here, a voice test there, a meeting on one day and a seminar the next.

Plus, I have been entertaining. I really wasn't expecting to have so many friends over, but so far I've had Sydney, Chennai, Delhi, Kochi and Bangalore pay me a visit. And I'm waiting impatiently for the others to catch up.

My often ignored writing desk

It all looks rather busy, I know. But what I have also managed to do is keep my travel case packed all the time. At the slightest excuse, and sometimes with none, I have been on the road, meeting and making friends. Which also means, I have news to share, and this is just the start.

For now, I'll leave you with my first home pictures. The other stories will follow in random order.

Just around the corner, a road that makes me smile.

‘Indian men, bahut harami’

A slightly shorter version of this piece appeared in Azhimukham, an online journal in Malayalam early this week. For those of you who cannot read the language, here it is.

Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot's Woman in Blue

“You mean you are not Slovenian? I thought you were, because you just don’t look Russian,” he said. The lady in the blue evening gown answered politely. “I am Russian.” He was quick with his next question. “And the man you were talking to earlier... are you friends? Is he from Russia too?” Yes, she said. He is from Russia, but he wasn't someone she knew personally. More questions followed. How long have you been in Delhi? 10 years is a long time, do you speak Hindi then? And where do you stay?

I was at a party and this conversation happened across the table. At first I wasn't paying any attention, but soon I was drawn into this game of cat and mouse. The woman was polite and kept her answers short. She had an exhausted smile. Short answers were good enough for the man who continued to grill her.

Soon he popped the inevitable question. “Can I have your number? I can meet you at Vasant Vihar near your place, and we can have a coffee or something.” A small pause, and he adds, “I’ll text you and if you don’t respond that will be the end of it. I won’t bother you.” She made a polite excuse, “I’m thirsty, I have to get something to drink.” He didn't get the hint and if he did, he wasn't ready to let her off the hook. Not after he had tried so hard, for so long. Let me bring it for you he said, before rushing off.

She looked at me with an exasperated expression. “Do you get this often?” I asked her. She nodded. In her 10 years of living in India, she had learnt that ignoring a man’s advances might hurt his ego. And that's just something you don’t want to do. It is instead best to play the role of a courteous ice maiden. “Indian men,” she said, “bahut harami.” Bahut was emphasized, and I don’t think that was because of her accent.

My evenings in KL

At a tourism seminar held in the city, I learnt that France is the most visited country in the world and closer home there is China, Malaysia and Hong Kong. India, according to the travel gurus, wasn't living up to it's true potential. In all these popular countries, apart from the infrastructure and sightseeing options, safety of a traveler is assured.

I landed in Kuala Lumpur (detailed travel account here) late one night in February and hailed a taxi to the city center. I was of course scared and therefore alert, but when the car stopped at the toll gate in the middle of nowhere, I noticed that the night staff was a woman. Her presence reassured me, and sure enough I had an uneventful ride into the city. I don’t think my country returns the same favour to women travelers. The lady in the blue evening gown is just one of the many 'atithis' or guests, who find living and traveling in India uncomfortable. In many places, including our biggest cities, we do not have enough public convenience spaces. The few that exist are dirty and unhygienic. So during the Commonwealth Games, when two women approached me with this question at Connaught Place, I took them to United Coffee House and explained their situation to a sympathetic manager.

Aurélie De Smedt has a special bond with India. She found the man of her dreams here. She has many friends and has traveled and lived in the remote corners of the country and therefore looks forward to her annual pilgrimage to the subcontinent. “But I can appreciate India only in parts,” she says, “Here; I cannot afford to let my guard down. I cannot relax on a bus or sit on a park bench without attracting unnecessary attention. My mind has to stay alert. I am always asking myself questions like - should I do this? Can I go there? Am I dressed right? It is all very exhausting. Back home I can relax and not worry about being attacked in broad daylight. But I look forward to my Indian vacations, though technically I relax only after I go back home.”

Nancy Mueller's Woman

Hungary’s Heléna Kontos couldn't agree more. “When I first moved to India, I was thrilled every time a man gave me a second look. In Hungary unless you are both sexy and 17, nobody gives a damn. But of course, this feeling didn't last for long. I soon realised that these weren't just admiring glances. Now, I wrap a shawl around me every time I step out and don’t go anywhere without my husband. I am an independent woman, but here in India I have to depend on so many people to get things done… my husband, the maid, the watchman… and that’s not a happy feeling,” she said.

I understand what she means. I grew up in Kerala where 'eve teasing' is as common as taking an oil bath. Most of us therefore, develop a sort of sixth sense about these things, and learn to foresee and avoid them.

Of course, I must also add that I'm not generalizing India as this big, bad, mean place full of clawing men. When I moved to Madras in 2005, I had a tough time adjusting. My sixth sense was useless here. No one gave me a second glance, and there certainly was no eve teasing. For a while I wondered if this was because I was unattractive. As an young girl of 21, I rated myself based on how much the world 'admired' me. I soon figured out that Tamil men respected their women folks. They call her 'amma' or mother, and therefore, even on a crowded bus, she is safe. Of course it is a conservative society, but its conservative nature allows a women to be. In fact, I would even go to the extend of calling it a gender neutral society, and it was here that I felt truly liberated.

Sadly, I can't say the same about the capital. It was a rainy day and Heléna had an open umbrella in her hand. She was shopping at Sarojini Nagar market, when a strong hand grabbed her unshielded breast. Another time, she was on a train with her visiting family, traveling between Kerala and Goa. Sometime in the night her cousin sitting on the lower berth, felt something warm and slimy on the nape of her neck. It was falling from the upper berth. Something white, almost translucent. When she realised what it was, she was too shocked to react.

When these women return to their countries, they might not recollect in great detail the lush green landscape, the big fat Indian weddings, the flavourful meals and the colourful ceremonies that they were a part of. But these experiences - the feeling of helpless outrage, shock and disgust, they will always remember.

Bikas Das's busy streets of Kolkata, India

Thomson Reuters Foundation did a survey in June 2011, which placed India 4th in the list of the world's most dangerous countries for women. The survey predates the much publicized Delhi gang rape case of 2012, or the more recent rape of a photojournalist in Mumbai.

Image for reference only

The rupee is plummeting; and we need foreign travelers to spend their dollars and pounds here. In many ways, our world is slowly waking up to this reality. In a first of its kind initiative, the Government of Tamil Nadu has announced auto rickshaws with GPS systems and a panic button.We now have hotels like The Leela reserving an entire floor for single women travelers. The tourism ministry has also launched an 'I Respect Women' campaign.

Today, more than ever, we need to reinvent ourselves and our image to make the ‘Incredible India’ campaign work for us. We should also learn to recognise women as fellow human beings well worthy of our respect.