First the beautiful Jupiter-Venus-Moon conjunction in March this year, and now a super moon , both visible so clearly in the night sky, unlike other beautiful celestial phenomena which are sometimes hard to spot. If you don't stop to look at the stars, you will never know the beauty of night. Everyone is occupied, their eyes always looking down into newer gadgets that seem to make our eyes downcast, literally. I like the times when family get togethers meant everyone rushing to the terrace with mattresses and pillows and someone would cook delicious snacks and there we all sat munching things under the night sky or slept on our backs looking up at the clearest constellations and the vastness of the space. 

It isn't that the stars today are too far away than before. We stopped taking the time out to appreciate the heavens above. I will end with a quote from William Shakespeare's Julius Caesar.

"The fault , dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, ..."

I was looking at comic strips created by people in different countries as part of the world comics india workshop in countries around the world. People from different countries represented subjects that were reflective of their societies - daily life, problems they could face etc. In Brazil, the theme was largely about crimes like robbery, rape, drugs while in Europe the themes centered around daily life, music, school, and curiously, hoods (jackets, clothes). Sri Lankan artists' work was overwhelmingly women-centric, about the plight of women, especially about sexual violence. In Lebanon and Palestine, it was all about how peace negotiations would bring about a better lfie for all. African artists drew about hiv and fgm, and in Pakistan, the theme was empowerment of girls. In India and Nepal, it was alcohol abuse, village life, water conservation. None of the workshops set a definite theme, nor were the people who attended artists, they were people who didn't have formal trianing as artists, and some had never shown an interest in drawing until then. Poeple who attended were free to draw whatever they pleased, whatever they wanted. There was no training on how to draw either. They were only told to draw their story on a singleside of a page in four blocks, each block representing a story. I attended one such workshop some years ago and it was one the best times I had there. 

What I realised is that around the world, people give importance to things that are vastly different from what you think is important. And some cultures have an easy and safe life, and some don't.

I was looking at comic strips created by people in different countries as part of the world comics india workshop in countries around the world. People from different countries represented subjects that were reflective of their societies - daily life, problems they could face etc. In Brazil, the theme was largely about crimes like robbery, rape, drugs while in Europe the themes centered around daily life, music, school, and curiously, hoods (jackets, clothes). Sri Lankan artists' work was overwhelmingly women-centric, about the plight of women, especially about sexual violence. In Lebanon and Palestine, it was all about how peace negotiations would bring about a better lfie for all. African artists drew about hiv and fgm, and in Pakistan, the theme was empowerment of girls. In India and Nepal, it was alcohol abuse, village life, water conservation. None of the workshops set a definite theme, nor were the people who attended artists, they were people who didn't have formal trianing as artists, and some had never shown an interest in drawing until then. Poeple who attended were free to draw whatever they pleased, whatever they wanted. There was no training on how to draw either. They were only told to draw their story on a singleside of a page in four blocks, each block representing a story. I attended one such workshop some years ago and it was one the best times I had there. 

What I realised is that around the world, people give importance to things that are vastly different from what you think is important. And some cultures have an easy and safe life, and some don't.

There are thousands of women in India who are anaemic and are unaware. Duggamma, Neelamma's daughter went to the doctor because of frequent fainting spells and the doctor told her that she required blood and she would have to pay him five thousand rupees. What a large sum. And Duggamma was planning to borrow the money from someone, and pay it back with interest. She was afraid after the doctor said she would die. She didn't want her four little children to grow up all alone without a mother. We advised her to not go back to that doctor and we're going to help her. You never know how doctors can take advantage of the poor and illiterate, maybe conducting clinical trials on them. Solving the problem of adequate nutrition is difficult. Simply because food is expensive. Nutritious food is even more so. The easiest way for the poor to get iron is to eat beef (this is what I read), because it isn't as expensive as mutton or iron supplements. Getting enough iron from vegetables is also hard because green herbs and so many other food which contain iron are out of reach. How do you eat well, when your choice is so limited? There are so many women who work as labourers or in factories or do hard physical work. But where do they get their strength from? 

raging wind
rain of leaves
dust storm
grey skies
the wind is so fierce, it could almost be the start of the monsoon.
But its only april.

raging wind
rain of leaves
dust storm
grey skies
the wind is so fierce, it could almost be the start of the monsoon.
But its only april.

I don't know why it wasn't on the local news even. Everything shook for a few seconds around 3am this morning. Five minutes before the mild tremor, Minty took her kittens out of her little house and kept them out in the open. And then suddnely it shook. It was so mild, but we could feel it. There was nothing on the news. I thought we imagined it. I didn't bring up the topic, but my neighbour's grandmother mentioned it. So she felt it too. 

I don't know why it wasn't on the local news even. Everything shook for a few seconds around 3am this morning. Five minutes before the mild tremor, Minty took her kittens out of her little house and kept them out in the open. And then suddnely it shook. It was so mild, but we could feel it. There was nothing on the news. I thought we imagined it. I didn't bring up the topic, but my neighbour's grandmother mentioned it. So she felt it too. 

In the morning the hens and roosters were all outside the coop, roaming freely in the garden, digging in the mud, foraging. How did they escape ? Maybe the door wasn't secured well. As the morning progressed they ventured further, until they flew over the wall to the vast patch of trees and bushes beyond. The dogs had an eye out for them and before long two dogs caught an hen and raced towards the opposite end of the road towards more dense bushes and trees. My neighbour Manu tried to stop the dogs, but they were too fast. A misadventure into the bad world outside that cost one of them terribly. It was so difficult to chase the hens back into our garden because they would fly over low branches of the trees and perch over them, just out reach. The adamant roosters wanted their freedom. By late afternoon they were back inside the compound. I took the chance to try and chase them inside their home, but the more I tried to do so, the more the dominant rooster chased me. He was so fast ! I ran all around the garden just to escape. Each time I came anywhere near the garden, he was there, ready to chase me, to attack me, he pecked me on my foot. Because no one was home to help, I called Nagendrappa and he too was chased by the rooster. He ran and gave up. The rooster attacked Gayathri, my neighbour. The whole day passed this way. But by dusk, all the chickens slowly went inside their home, without anyone forcing them. And they settled inside the coop. Gayathri had called another neighbour who jumped at the chance to close the door and to be safe, put a huge stone so that they could not push the door open again.

The next morning, I peered down through the branches of the trees, and I knew disaster had struck. The ground was covered with sfot white feathers. As we rushed down, we saw all of them putside the coop, again. They had escaped through a side wall which wasn't fixed properly. But the feather ? There it was, the dominant rooster, sitting inside the coop, suddenly harmless and docile. Sai Bharat's grandmother saw us while climbing the steps to her home. She said two big dogs had come to attack the chickens and that before they could take away any chikcens , she chased them away with a stick.

But all the chickens were unharmed except the one rooster who until the previous day was boisterously standing guard over his brood, chasing away anyone who dared come near his clan. He was injured, but we didn't know how badly until yesterday. He had become weak and the other rooster started pecking him. The next day we kept him in isolation, but his wounds had worsened and we took him to the vet who gave it an injection and cleaned its wounds. As much as we tried, we couldn't get the ants out of his wounds. He was in so much pain. IHe had fought two big dogs and survived. He had deflected attention from the others, and made himself the target and fought back and lived, just to tell us that he did a good job of being the strong defender. He was just actually a little bird that could puff up its feathers and pretend to be aggressive and fight against killing machines. He was no match for the dogs, but he protected all the rest heroically, a martyred soldier. Like dolphins, who make themselevs the target of a lone great white shark, to protect their young. He died last night a day after being wounded. Even the littlest of animals are so brave even in the knowledge that they will not live after the fight, that what they fight is vicious and stronger.

I will miss the cock-a-doodle-doos, all through the day, and always funnily enough just before salat times, eight times in all, withoutfail. He fought courageously, our brave leghorn.

 

It tried to. I chased the kitten out of the room and in a fit of panic it saw the mirror on the wall and jumped at it. It thought the mirror was a window, an escape route.

For the past three weeks our internet connection has been so erratic. And sometimes we haven't been able to connect at all. After calling the BSNL office to give a complaint , we got the usual response, that they would be coming to repair the line. And we waited and they never came. I thought maybe someone dug up the road again and the cables got damaged. After three frustrating weeks, we gave up, when a bulb flashed. We took a long stick and using it opened the little telephone box mounted outside on the wall near the garden. The door flew open and we found a little nest of wasps. They had built their nest around the telephone wire, this wire which is wound around balcony railings and roof tops and tree branches by linemen whose job includes some acrobatics and dangling upside down in midair trying to connect telephone wires. So the wasps who were the culprits. Its a strange little box, painted yellow with numbers in black painted on the lid, and inside is a kind of reel around which the telephone wire is wound. It must be special because it holds a certain appeal to animals. It seems like the perfect place to make a home. Before this when the inetrnet had stopped working and we were very frustrated at BSNL, we discovered that a big lizard had made the box its home and was chewing on the wire. And before the lizard, a little mouse used to live there, climbing up using the wire and the mouse's stay disrupted the internet so badly. I wonder which animal next. When the line man called to ask our address again, even though the telephone office is located five minutes away, I explained that some kind of 'hula' (an insect) had made a home inside.

In North Karnataka, one of the first few questions women ask you is if you eat Jolada rotti (a roti made from Sorghum), and when you say ofcourse you do, they ask you if make it at home. And if you don't know how to make one, you could be the biggest dunderhead in the world. It hold a place of pride among the people of North Karnataka. Parents narrate sorrows of their miserable children who are unable to eat their staple 'rotti' because they live abroad. And I agree. Anyone who has ever eaten this roti made of jowar (Sorghum) would find wheat very very inferior. Now I had always been told that making a jolada rotti, or jari ki roti as we call it is an unachievable task. My grandmother would say so, everyone would say so, but they would make it themselves. 

Jowar is a millet, and it is grown all over the world. It lacks gluten, that wonderful protein that wheat is blessed with, which makes it so pliable and gives rise to an amazing variety of desserts and wheat is used in so many packaged products. It is no wonder that wheat is considered the forbidden fruit, and it is said that wheat was giant sixed, luscious, juicy and had every attribute that a forbidden fruit must ncessarily possess. And wheat is hexaploid, so it could have been that big in some forgotten more than ancient era. (It is also a cause of weight gain in many many people.)

But it is precisely lack of gluten that makes jowar, and its millet companion like bajra, at once a manna for anyone allergic to wheat. Because of this unique property, it is impossible to roll out a roti from jowar. You can try all you like, but it is not possible. The dough itself does not hold like a malleable mass. Water merely acts as a temporary cohesive agent. No oil or fat can make it cohesive. There are folks who mix Sorghum flour with wheat and roll out the dough to make rotis. For purists like my grandmother it is blasphemy. So the only way to get a roti that is flat, lightweight and fine as a handkerchief is to hit the ball of dough, hit it with your hands, gently, firmly until it spreads out into a thin round which can only be cooked with water.

Anyone who has attempted to make it the first time would know how impossible it seems to spread out the dough without the flattened dough tearing, how much pressure should you use with your hands. The only way to make a dough out of Sorghum flour is to boil water and knead the dough for quite sometime in that hot water, and when you flatten it, you have to be skillful enough to transfer to a very hot flat pan and quickly sprinkle water to just about wet the entire surface of the roti without leaving any part dry.

 

 

 

In North Karnataka, one of the first few questions women ask you is if you eat Jolada rotti (a roti made from Sorghum), and when you say ofcourse you do, they ask you if make it at home. And if you don't know how to make one, you could be the biggest dunderhead in the world. It hold a place of pride among the people of North Karnataka. Parents narrate sorrows of their miserable children who are unable to eat their staple 'rotti' because they live abroad. And I agree. Anyone who has ever eaten this roti made of jowar (Sorghum) would find wheat very very inferior. Now I had always been told that making a jolada rotti, or jari ki roti as we call it is an unachievable task. My grandmother would say so, everyone would say so, but they would make it themselves. 

Jowar is a millet, and it is grown all over the world. It lacks gluten, that wonderful protein that wheat is blessed with, which makes it so pliable and gives rise to an amazing variety of desserts and wheat is used in so many packaged products. It is no wonder that wheat is considered the forbidden fruit, and it is said that wheat was giant sixed, luscious, juicy and had every attribute that a forbidden fruit must ncessarily possess. And wheat is hexaploid, so it could have been that big in some forgotten more than ancient era. (It is also a cause of weight gain in many many people.)

But it is precisely lack of gluten that makes jowar, and its millet companion like bajra, at once a manna for anyone allergic to wheat. Because of this unique property, it is impossible to roll out a roti from jowar. You can try all you like, but it is not possible. The dough itself does not hold like a malleable mass. Water merely acts as a temporary cohesive agent. No oil or fat can make it cohesive. There are folks who mix Sorghum flour with wheat and roll out the dough to make rotis. For purists like my grandmother it is blasphemy. So the only way to get a roti that is flat, lightweight and fine as a handkerchief is to hit the ball of dough, hit it with your hands, gently, firmly until it spreads out into a thin round which can only be cooked with water.

Anyone who has attempted to make it the first time would know how impossible it seems to spread out the dough without the flattened dough tearing, how much pressure should you use with your hands. The only way to make a dough out of Sorghum flour is to boil water and knead the dough for quite sometime in that hot water, and when you flatten it, you have to be skillful enough to transfer to a very hot flat pan and quickly sprinkle water to just about wet the entire surface of the roti without leaving any part dry.

 

 

 

In North Karnataka, one of the first few questions women ask you is if you eat Jolada rotti (a roti made from Sorghum), and when you say ofcourse you do, they ask you if make it at home. And if you don't know how to make one, you could be the biggest dunderhead in the world. It hold a place of pride among the people of North Karnataka. Parents narrate sorrows of their miserable children who are unable to eat their staple 'rotti' because they live abroad. And I agree. Anyone who has ever eaten this roti made of jowar (Sorghum) would find wheat very very inferior. Now I had always been told that making a jolada rotti, or jari ki roti as we call it is an unachievable task. My grandmother would say so, everyone would say so, but they would make it themselves. 

Jowar is a millet, and it is grown all over the world. It lacks gluten, that wonderful protein that wheat is blessed with, which makes it so pliable and gives rise to an amazing variety of desserts and wheat is used in so many packaged products. It is no wonder that wheat is considered the forbidden fruit, and it is said that wheat was giant sixed, luscious, juicy and had every attribute that a forbidden fruit must ncessarily possess. And wheat is hexaploid, so it could have been that big in some forgotten more than ancient era. (It is also a cause of weight gain in many many people.)

But it is precisely lack of gluten that makes jowar, and its millet companion like bajra, at once a manna for anyone allergic to wheat. Because of this unique property, it is impossible to roll out a roti from jowar. You can try all you like, but it is not possible. The dough itself does not hold like a malleable mass. Water merely acts as a temporary cohesive agent. No oil or fat can make it cohesive. There are folks who mix Sorghum flour with wheat and roll out the dough to make rotis. For purists like my grandmother it is blasphemy. So the only way to get a roti that is flat, lightweight and fine as a handkerchief is to hit the ball of dough, hit it with your hands, gently, firmly until it spreads out into a thin round which can only be cooked with water.

Anyone who has attempted to make it the first time would know how impossible it seems to spread out the dough without the flattened dough tearing, how much pressure should you use with your hands. The only way to make a dough out of Sorghum flour is to boil water and knead the dough for quite sometime in that hot water, and when you flatten it, you have to be skillful enough to transfer to a very hot flat pan and quickly sprinkle water to just about wet the entire surface of the roti without leaving any part dry.