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Showing posts from September, 2014

KHAO GALLI MIGRATIONS

Most old cities have a khao galli. Don’t they? Set in older parts, with glorious food served from tiny shops or glitzy laaris. Ahmedabad has not one, several khao gallis, creeping outwards as the city spreads. When I came to Ahmedabad more than 40 years ago, Khao galli was Khaas bazaar. Khass because it was stoutly non-veg in a city dominated by Gandhian vegetarians.   It existed a couple hundred yards down from the old fort and its mata na mandir.    Several decades later, a new branch of that Khaas bazaar has made itself permanent on the S G Highway’s Sarkhej stretch, offering economic meals, desi style and American magic Chicken style too. Khaas bazaar was an all day affair; its vegetarian counterpart in the chowk ruled only at night, crowds milling on the footpaths off the downed shutters of silversmiths and the stock exchange and others, for a selection of sandwiches topped with grated cheese and a dash of desi spice along with other desi vegetarian street foods.

THE RETURN OF MAA-dom

Now I’m waiting for a book on Radha,  to view  her through a brand new prism. We’ve had Irawati Karve on Kunti.   Devdutt Patnaik on a new free spirited Sita.   Amish Tripathi on a transformed Parvati with her twin Kali. Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni on Draupadi in the Palace of Illusions.    Did I miss out on any major one? Our ancients are a discovery for me.   At my mother’s knee, I learnt very abbreviated versions of the Ramayan and the Mahabharat.   No grandmas abroad in those days. My first interaction with the ancients was when my children sat around my knees for bedtime stories from that wonderful Amar Chitra Katha series. Could any civilization survive millennia with petty minded women and such brutes of men? Then I discovered modern prisms ton history and the scenario stood transformed. I even wrote my own historical novel, MASTANI:   from the rumored dancing girl of old text books, she emerged as a true blue Bundela Kshtrani, daughter of Maharaj Chhatrasaal Bund

Did he?

Have often wondered whether Peshwa Baji Rao's younger brother, Chimaji Appa died within six months of the death of Baji and Mastani out of sheer sorrow and penitence. The two brothers were long heralded as Ram Lakhan;  until the beautiful, intelligent Mastani appeared on the scene, or rather in the arms of Baji Rao, while poor Appa was saddled with child brides twice, leaving no recourse but the attractive experienced arms of others. Did the sight of his illustrious brother's second wife and the knowledge of her worth --- after all he was the household Comptroller and knew the accounts coming in from Bundelkhand  finally tip the balance as his favorite protege, Nana Saheb, eldest son of Baji Rao from his first wife, Kashibai came of age?  What was the role played by younger brother Appa in the tragic deaths of  Mastani and Peshwa Baji Rao in rapid succession?

The Magic of Bach Remedies

Alternate remedies can be life savers for many ailments, especially emotional ones. listen to this: I wonder if my brain would have done alright in moments of misery, If flowers hadn't come to the rescue, If the chemicals hadn't been put in perfect milligram balance By Bach remedies. The sort of balance that Nature has The magnum opus of roots and pollens. Every scent for a purpose. Every color for a cause. Somehow aiding the equilibrium of Life. Steadying the wobble of the heart When a molecule spins out of control Or when an atom parades out of turn. Emotions are elements and compounds. They feed onus to survive. And we survive to feed them. Perhaps Mother wouldn't have had that Fatal lump in her breast Had I known of Bach remedies then.... Agrimony and Gentian would have shouldered Her crushing despair like dutiful sons. Harsh words would not have scraped her insides hollow Giving space for tumors to flourish. Perhaps. The earth speaks to us

Purposeful Rehab in Flooded Kashmir

"When the floods struck,  
people watched their dreams
 Swim like champions, b
ut drown like fledgling sparrows
 The horror entered their pillows every night 
Like black seeds in silk cotton."
 Vinita Agrawal 
 Doesn't that create a goose bump raising picture of rising floods, just when India is in the throes of the Vadodara, Bihar and the Kashmir floods, now bleeding into Jammu too? For days now, the floods in J&K   have flooded the media with loud outcries. As a matter of fact, rescue is still underway. The army itself has yet to examine what it has lost by way of arms, ammunition, supplies and family in the flood.   The situation in the whole state too has yet to be assessed thoroughly for damage, what is retrievable and what gone forever. News reports trash Omar Abdullah and his government, but also raise a weary doubt: How much of these anti stories are planted in anticipation of next year's assembly elections?     Politic
Have been reading about a UP village where Hindus and Muslims not only live in harmony but also intermarry uninhibited by regulations of either side. They were   forcibly converted by Aurangzeb but have learnt to live happily with each other ever since. My historical novel MASTANI detailed the brahmin and kshtriya roots of both Peshwa Baji Rao I and his second wife Mastani. Tragically, their offspring were railroaded into Islam because her mother was Muslim, for political reasons.... succession and the reigning Muslims at that time. It took three generations for them to actually assimilate Islam. 
 Two centuries down the line, none other than Lokmanya Tilak invited the Muslim branch to Pune to suggest a return to the family fold. The attempt floundered on familiar Brahmin rocks demanding : Will they become brahmins or ksytriyas? Who will marry their children? 
It took another century for my MASTANI to release and bring about a rapprochement between the two bran

NIRBHAYA LIVES STILL

Yesterday, on Facebook, I saw a sentence that struck a chord in me. “No matter what the situation is, Remind yourself       ‘I have a choice’” This sentence resonated with me as that is sounds exactly the spirit of my forthcoming anthology titled   NIRBHAYA & OTHERS WHO DARED. It tells the stories of women who make their choices, good, bad or indifferent and dare to lead their lives in their own way;  the stories of innumerable relationships --- those that women have with themselves and each other, with husbands, brothers, sauts, jamais, sisters, lovers, fathers, offspring, colleagues …. You name the relationship and you have it. What it boils down to is thinking out of the box and making a choice to live Life