Kid Contexts - 1

Rajiv walked home. It had been a horrible day at school. His best friend hadn't turned up and he got badly bullied by Akash. All the kids in that stupid Akash's gang had ganged up against Rajiv and made the lunch recess miserable.

How he hated Akash!

Today, he'd been alone in class when Akash kicked him. Then each boy in that s group had hit him on his back. Rajiv's eyes stung at the memory of the day. The new class teacher had come in time to stop Rajiv when he hit Akash back. She didn't listen to either of the boys and made them both stay outside class.

In the maths period, Akash flung Rajiv's book to the ground and promised to spit on him after class was over. Rajiv let the book stay on the floor and told his Maths teacher what had happened. "Learn to fight your own battles, my boy," she had replied with a sagely smile.

So, Rajiv turned and slapped Akash straight on the face. He watched with satisfaction as Akash's eyes bulged for a moment and then cringed with tears. The Maths teacher shouted at Rajiv and took him straight to the Principal. Now he and Akash had to call their parents to school.

Rajiv knew what this meant. He didn't want to tell his mother what had happened because he was sure she would blame him and side with Akash. He could try talking to his father but Papa would be home late at night. Better not to go to school, he decided.

His mother opened the door with a smile and let him in. She called him for food and they both sat in front of the television to eat. Rajiv changed from her serial to his Nick channel and they had a fight about the channel before Rajiv stomped out of the room leaving his plate half-empty.

Mother: You are always trying to get your cartoon channel. Are you a small child to watch cartoons?
Rajiv (through his tears) : I was trying to see Nikelodeon.
Mother: Eat your food fully and eat it now.
Rajiv: No, I don't want your stupid food.
Mother: Come on, eat your food before I hit you and make you eat.
Rajiv: I don't want your stupid food.
Mother: Come on, now or...
Rajiv: (cringes as his mother lifts her hand)
Mother: You disobey your mother? she slaps him.
Rajiv: (cries openly) Will you disobey your mother? slaps him again.
Mother: slaps him two more times to make a point

He eats his food in tears and avoids looking at his mother. She stands over his plate, arms akimbo. At this point, he decides, I am not going to come home from tomorrow. I will go away from here like I am going to school and never, never, ever return.

Growing up with Janmashtami

Janmashtami is round the corner and it’s the time for children to be told stories about Baby Krishna’s mischief. And they will giggle, knowing they were just as lovable and loved, when they were babies.

Here is one of the typical things that the butter-loving child would do:

 

Photo credit: festivalsasia.in

Krishna was born at midnight, so preparations would begin the afternoon before. I remember returning from school as a child to see a big kolam drying in front of our house. Large floral motifs in bold strokes of pure white would be ready to appease my cranky eye. On Gokulashtami, the point of interest went beyond the beauty of the design, it was the tiny feet drawn at the door that awaited my arrival. Something like this:

photo credit: http://elaichii.blogspot.in

I would ring the doorbell with a surge of excitement and my mother would appear with a big smile, ‘My Krishna has come.’ 

Her reasoning for Janmashtami was this, it is a celebration for children. No parent expects a real Krishna to appear at the door, their children’s smiles are enough for them. It is a labour of maternal love, done willingly, hopeful for a bright smile in return.

The annual ritual continued for a while.  At some point, the feet designs stopped, the busy hue at the time of year reduced. I didn’t notice. I just didn’t notice.

I must have been a teenager when I asked her, ‘You stopped making those tiny feet, why?’

She replied simply, ‘You grew up.’She had opened the door, I hadn’t noticed her or the larger design or the feet as I rushed in and rushed out for some urgency, for sure. And she knew that a phase was past. Maybe her heart broke a little, she didn’t say. 

Then I had a kid. My schedule was busy and I declined most religious rituals. But in a throwback to times past, on this day I would make floor designs of baby feet, painstakingly leading them to the designated god center. My son would ring the doorbell and I would open the door with a smile as I saw his eyes light up at the feet drawn just for him. He graduated from putting his feet into the wet design to trying to help me make the drawing, to following the feet without messing the design.

We would discuss the stories around Krishna and he would watch as I made the ‘vella payasam’ (sweetened rice), my shortcut culinary offering since I was not inclined to the more demanding traditional foods. Besides, my son liked ‘vella payasam' and that was enough for me.

But I wanted insurance, so I told him, ‘When you lose interest, tell me. I’ll stop taking the extra effort to make these ‘kolams’.’

He agreed. But children forget, and one day he entered the house with barely a glance at the fruit of my effort and certainly no smile. He watched television, ate something and hurried off to play. Later, we had a few free moments but the innocent glee was missing. The interest was gone.

And I knew a phase of childhood was gone forever. My heart broke a little. I didn’t say.

Religious Frog

On the ground a tall tree stood

Near the tree some grass

At base of tree one frog waited

For insect to pass
 

Frog stayed thus for many days

Growing quite round and fit

Unwilling to move away
Due to winged meals that flit

Base of tree grew quite round
and bark became quite strong
until, one fine sunny day
The bark resembled a trunk

Then it rained and frog croaked loud
What did passing people see?

Bulging frog in silent repose
Sitting quiet on divine tree!

Hurry, with that garland

Colour the trunk in saffron

Get incense and camphor

Now, for some vermillion

Cast aside your work and worries

Omniscience is among us

All dreams will turn to reality

Close your eyes, sway thus

Soon chants began as the group

Folded their hands to pray

And buzzing insects that passed
Were surely smacked away

And so it came to be

Frog’s cuisine grew less ample

Resigned to fate, it hopped away

That tree is now a temple

The glass hopper

Why do you stand on that shiny door of glass?

Come join us in this patch of cool green grass

Said friends of the ‘hopper who foolishly stood

Open, unguarded as ‘hoppers never should



Come, be among us, among your own kind

Hopping and hiding, are you out of your mind?

Who ever saw a hopper standing out in the sun

On a glass door, mind you, in view of everyone



From there you’re visible as food from all sides

Known enemies will eat you as an aside

Don’t be victim to anonymous claws

A flash will change you from an ‘is’ to ‘was’



The glass hopper stood its ground resolute

It spoke aloud from where it shouldn’t have stood

“Obviously, you things haven’t read the book

‘Alternate Lifestyles – A Critical Look’



The author, a ‘hopper, advises on style

In keeping with looking and feeling fine

It talks about fashion and organized space

And the safety and joy of swinging in space



I’ve spent time in places that smell amiss

And attract strange creatures and things that hiss

And ants with objectionable burial rites

And appear from nowhere to nibble your sides



So, erudite and apart the ‘hopper preened

On a shining glass standing tall in the green

Come, I invite you all to my new find

Then we’ll know who’s really out of their mind


His friends shrugged, slowly giving vent

How could they help one so intent

On being seen by evil bird or rodent

They sighed ‘some book’, as they went



A crow on a nearby branch did caw

The glass hopper pretended to ignore

Though he’d gone quite cold with fright

He appeared heroic in the glinting sunlight



But the crow looked at him and grimaced

Green things on glass were not to his taste

Besides the glass panes of nowadays

Slide open and shut in unexpected ways



A big fat rat looked up from the floor

It wasn’t going anywhere near that door

It smarted at how it made the tail sore

As it scuttled past just the day before


The ‘hopper was peeved by the facial display

Relief gave way as deep Insult took sway

The 'hopper fell prey to this quagmire of feelings
But sudden changes had started occurring




His platform, his pedestal, the glass door shook

And before you could shout ‘ohmyGod! Look’

The door smoothly slid apart with the hopper in its nook

The poor ‘hopper was jammed like a page in a book



Wedged between door and jamb

As the door slid shut instead of banged

It lay there in a troublesome mess

Causing the cleaner much distress



The other ‘hoppers looked on in surprise

Taken aback by the untimely demise

They checked the referred book – an original edition

Doors only swung shut when that book was written



They scoured later editions on the topic to find

That the anon author had in fact been so kind

As to strongly suggest that hoppers avoid

Doors that instead of swinging shut, slide



So, the intrepid hopper now late

Had chanced upon this unfortunate fate

By reading a book of style fact, not fiction

Hardbound, shining but of previous edition

Holiday in Thekkady - 1

The date: May 22nd, 2010. We landed in hot sultry Cochin and took the 5 and a half hour drive to Thekkady.
The route is green – with a vengeance. Houses sprout up on tree branches and tree trunks, from certain angles :) Picture this green, green, brown tree trunk, green, green, brown tree trunk, pinkyellowpurple, green, green, brown tree trunk, fluorescent green and yellow, rainbow stripes, green, green, brown tree trunk, lavenderwhite, orangepurple, darkblueandwhite…

By the time we reached our hotel it was 7 p.m. and dark and cool. Note the time of year as I say this – we had just come from very hot, sweaty Mumbai to very hot Cochin to this complete climate contrast. Hotels in Thekkady are not fitted with an AC. The temperature remains cool through the year.

The next morning was a visit to the Spice Plantation. Ho hum, a walk in a park. This is a privately owned estate that has government permission to open its gates to visitors. The estate grows a huge variety of medicinal plants, spices and coffee. This is an ornamental plant - Angel’s Trumpet - it's larger than my palm.

The climate is excellent for exotic plants. This is the Bird of Paradise – an orchid that was imported from Brazil and grows better here. It can grow up to 4 feet in height and is used for decorating wedding halls of the super-rich (poor plant).

We went past the nest of a weaver bird – this bird has a ‘swayamvae’ (husband choosing) that would make us eat our hearts out. When it is time to nest, the male builds nests with place for rooms and picks twigs and soft material to make for plush interiors. They catch fireflies and attach them into the nest for light. The female of the species goes from house to house to check construction quality, electricity availability and interior design and finally chooses the guy with the best house. Thus spared of housing loans and EMIs the weaver bird gets settled to married life in a housing society with neighbours of its own kind.

We came across a little pond of water with a basking turtle in the centre. As we watched the turtle, something blue flashed in the water. We looked closer to find tiny, um tadpoles? No, guppy fish.

This is the Kerala Government's response to the threat of chikungunya and dengue. Guppy fish are happy to live off the larvae of mosquitoes and nip into a big chunk of the mosquito’s population expansion program. These fish are natives of Trinidad and were imported to India and freed into the fresh water. The flash of blue is from the tail of the male as it tries to attract attention. The trouble with the male of this species is that they devour everything, including their young without a blink.

Good news is, they breed rapidly, so fast that despite all that devouring there are always enough guppies in the water. In fact, the female of the species frees the eggs into the water in batches to increase the rate of survival. The male is comfortable with this regular food supply.

There was a cinnamon tree stripped off its bark – the outer bark is what we consume. In order to keep the tree in good health, one half of the bark is stripped and allowed to grow back before the other half is stripped. However, visitors to the site have seen the tree, stripped the bark without heeding the guide due to which it has died. Visitors are no longer taken to the live trees.

We came to a huge bamboo tower that dates back to more than a century when Thekkady was pure forest with huge herds of marauding elephants. The tower allows a view far, far into the forest so a minor rustle could be caught and people could get away while the elephants ate their crop and tore their homes down.

The stairs to the top of the tower

At the top of the tower

We came across tiny chillies - the size of a fingertip. These are the spicy Kandhari chillies. Keralites use a lot of coconut in their food and spice it up with Kandhaari chillies, these tiny bombs counter cholesterol. The incidence of high BP among these people is low because of the use of this chilli. Good for us, I can plant these chillies at home - maybe go on to own a chilli plantation - or so I thought. I'd market the chilli for its cholesterol combating capability maybe even as a weight loss agent. 'It burns your mouth so you can't eat more.'

I planted the seeds after returning to Mumbai - the saplings came up, tender leaves grew and got neatly clipped off by an interested sparrow :( and put paid to my agriculturist plans.

The 1.5 hour walk ended in the shop where medicines, oils and coffee are sold. We moved out of the plantation feeling mighty pleased with our education.

Trekking in Thekkady - 2

An interesting part of our trip was the Cloud Walk. There are a variety of walks conducted by the forest department – some a few hours long and others that stretch into three days.

We were enamoured of the Cloud Walk as opposed to the Nature Trail which sounded like the difference between walking among something versus walking on something. We were guided to the base of the mountain and met by a female guide. Most important, the forest guide’s office had clean bathrooms, Indian style. After a morning spent outdoors, this was really important to us. The cloud walk trail takes you up a thickly forested mountain that will hopefully be thick with clouds at some point. We were given leech socks to wear.

Bala and Anand wearing leech socks

The walk was nice. We would walk past huge walls of green to be met by surprise openings of fresh breeze. We saw different types of plants, almost saw a rat snake as we chatted (it chose to hide in the bushes) – elephant grass abounds and is a favourite of elephants for eating and of humans for thatching roofs. The grass is pointed and rough.

Part of the way, the guide stopped at a divide and explained that there were two routes we could take – she pointed one that was dense forest with no path and less air and another that was better-lit and open. Then she started a short monologue that I reproduce here with a few asides :

Dark road, very dangerous. Bears, wild elephant and wild buffalo. If bear smell comes, we must turn and go back- (turns out they are unpredictable, territorial and dangerous so you don’t want to wait for the smell to metamorphose into a real bear, if you wish to stay, she was clear that she would go anyway). If you want to go, I’ll take you.

Elephant comes suddenly and quietly. These bulky fellows trample grass, strip plants from the ground and uproot trees in their elephant fashion, but they do all this quietly. When they appear, the best thing to do is get down on your haunches and slide down the nearest incline. Elephants do not like to come down steep inclines - can lead to injuries to the leg (though they are adept at climbing them) and will limit themselves to blaring in protest. If you want to go, I’ll take you.

There are herds of wild buffalo, if one charges at you, nothing can be done; normally they ignore your presence. And yes, there are cobras, vipers and rattlesnakes in the abundant grass, and yes, they bite if you stand on their tails unwittingly. And yes, people die of their bites. Oh yes, I know the herb to save lives but the herb should be available nearby, besides it grows on the top of a tall tree. But don’t worry, normally snakes just go by. If you want to go, I’ll take you.

We looked at her like she was mad . Our choice was clear. She explained, it is my duty to tell trekkers and sometimes people want to go.
So, there have been deaths?
Yes, she said simply. Sometimes, tourists go close to the elephants and click photos. The flash makes them wild. Sometimes they scream in excitement and the animal reacts. People do all kinds of things.

We walked along the safe path. Bala had come on the cloud walk to well, walk in clouds.
‘Afternoon time, sir, no clouds. Evening time, sir, yes clouds but animals also coming sir.’ So we went ahead on the cloud walk without clouds.

No mist, no cloud

There was another divergence, we could walk up a higher mountain or move straight to the watch tower. We chose watch tower. Our pace was quite slow and the guide talked about her life. She wakes up at 4 a.m. and reports to work at 6 a.m. She makes about 3 three-hour treks every day. Goes home in the evening and cooks for her husband and three kids. She has a small plot of land – 1 cent (1/100th of an acre) and she grows coffee, kandhaari chillies and a few vegetables. Her coffee plant provides enough supply for a year, which is a huge relief to her family because they all relish the beverage.

Shaky watch tower with gaps at the top

The 4-storeyed watch tower was dilapidated – it’s like this, you have now reached some thousand feet above sea level (didn’t start at zero, so don’t gasp!). The wind whips you in the face; you make your way through poky elephant bush to reach the watch tower to find that it shakes in the wind. Okay, you tell yourself, she does this every day and start the climb to reach the top and wham – a hugely corroded tile right at the top (straight out of the first chapter of 'Kidnapped'). You cross gingerly past it and find another large square of corrosion ahead.

Now this tower normally is supposed to have two forest officers who can get a view of any poaching activity. Of the last few years this tower has been in disuse. Repeated requests for repair have gone unnoticed. The government has to approve before any action can be taken and since it appears as item 112,154 on the government’s list of things to do, nobody's noticed it as yet.

On the way back we passed through a few tribal settlements and Anand took out his camera to click a calf that was sitting on the side of the road.

Unimpressed calf

Two children came running out of their homes and watched him click. As soon as he turned towards them – they posed.

Can you say no to this?

I know we shouldn’t have but at that time, he took a snap of the kids. The girl ran to tell her mother (in red at the far end of the photo) who smiled thinly at me and put a protective arm around her daughter as I walked past.

Lesson learnt. Never again.

End of trek – end of day. What do three intrepid mountaineers do after they reach base camp – they search for dosa and a cup of coffee. We went to hotel after hotel after hotel only to be told that dosas count as breakfast. People don’t eat dosa for lunch and hotels are not mad to serve people dosas at unearthly hours like 4 p.m. So we settled for some fruits and returned to the hotel.

Lost and Found

Well, to return to the story of the 8 puppies of our building.

Despite my efforts to disapprove of the pups and disregard their presence, it was impossible not to fall in love with them. Sunny warm mornings would find the garden filled with pups tumbling over each other, sniffing the ground for nothing in particular, growling and snapping at their tails and checking the shoes of passers-by. The mother dog often played with the pups while father dog, well, he was too busy doing better things like chewing paper and tipping bags of garbage on the pathway.
The hot afternoon sun drove the pups under the bushes but rest evaded them. Young children took turns shaking the pups awake and patting them to sleep again. School bags lay strewn in the center of the park as the kids squabbled about rights of puppy care and shaking the sleeping puppy awake.

A series of complaints had started rumbling in the building – complaint 1: too many dogs, complaint 2: dogs are too noisy at night, complaint 3: dogs are messing about too much. A parallel series of complaints about people had started up among the dogs - complaint 1: too many people, complaint 2: people are too noisy all the time, complaint 3: people are messing about too much.

People stood in splintered groups and discussed ways to get rid of the dogs. The dogs stood in large congregations and growled their irritation about bipeds. We should get rid of them, only the tame ones should be allowed on the streets, said the first set. We should get rid of them, only the ones who bring food for us should be allowed on the streets, said the second set.

One fine morning the garden was empty – that’s it, empty. No puppy growls, no tumbling fights, no errant tails, no shoe checking – mummy and daddy dog sat quietly. Every once in a while the mother sniffed the ground and sat back while dad appeared quite nonchalant. I sent my almost-in-tears son to do some fact-finding and research.

Well, the complaints had reached the ears of the who’s who among the BMC and they sent the animal van (the revised version of the dog pound) to catch the grown-up animals. Daddy Dog (who earned the moniker James Bond after that), went deep into hiding. Mummy Dog was nowhere to be found. So-o-o-, what to do now with all those expert dog-catchers and their canine seeking missiles (read: sticks).

Not people who like to leave a job half-done, they picked up the eight puppies and silenced the complaining children with the assurance that they would bring the pups back. Puppies as you must know are VERY difficult to catch, one must bend down to the ground, wiggle a string and it will waddle over to investigate and get picked up. This was probably why one must be full of respect for the hard word and untiring effort of the dog squad.

Now what does the van do with a bunch of squealing pups? Well, they drop them off on entirely new ground, alien territory, so to speak, in the sincere hope that the existing canine mafia will wag its tail at the newcomer and welcome it into the group and all will be well. And that was what must have happened.

The next few days were tense some very troubled young souls in the garden. Stories of dog sightings did thr rounds but like all gossip, the stories died out in the face of cricket and hide and seek.

One school girl saw the pup Blackie and got off her school bus on the spot and quickly emptied her school bag. She walked from there, past the building security with a suspiciously moving bag and all books in hand. Once she reached the garden, she freed Blackie who leapt into the garden with visible relief. Mummy and Daddy Dog appeared from nowhere, (maybe the guy did care beneath that tough exterior) and welcomed their progeny back.

Another kid, let’s call him Adnan, saw Sweety in a horribly thin and hungry state near a temple. Sweety recognized him first and wrapped its forepaws around the kid in a silent, desperate plea to be rescued. It took a kind auto rickshaw driver, latent doggie talent to stay quiet at the entrance of the building to avoid being seen by the security and some kindness to return the pup back to its big garden home. Mummy and Daddy dog were overjoyed.

Sweety later turned out to be one of the girl dogs who turned out to be a boy. Blackie, just the opposite.