Lessons Learnt from the 'Cousin Corps'

Some of life's many blessings have come in the forms of the children that have been born to my mother's sisters, a small army of adorable youngsters that I refer to as the 'Cousin Corps' (a term that is highly appropriate when we all meet in the same place!).

Being the eldest amongst them, I have the unique pleasure of standing on the threshold that separates the "grown-ups" of our family from the kids. At my discretion, I can don the caregiver's mantle - supervising meals, helping with homework, reading/reciting story after story etc. - or put on my "considerably-less-mature" hat and watch cartoons, go for movies like "Krrish" (which, despite my considerable respect for Hrithik Roshan, is not a movie I would recommend for anyone who does not need supervision when a movie is rated PG!), trade an infinite number of hugs, tickles and mindless jokes!

As time passes, I watch these boys and girls grow and observe how their thoughts and actions change. In the younger ones I get to see the blossoming of minds that absorb new information like and knowledge like sponges, the delicacy of emotional structures and the care with which it is necessary to nurture them; and the sheer purity of innocence and trust that only childhood can maintain. In the older ones I witness the bumpy phase in which the last vestiges of childhood meet the quirky beginnings of adolescence, the beginnings of the search for meaning and autonomy, the need to be understood and the trials of self-discovery/assertion. It's a vast picture and its colours are moving constantly, not always in a fashion that one might consider ideal, but somehow the overall effect is quite pleasing.

One of the things I've noticed is the changing importance of touch in their lives. As babies and toddlers they couldn't get enough of it...they were ready to give hugs and be cuddled at any given time (one of the BEST feelings you could ever have, in my opinion, is to hold a child and let him/her fall asleep in your arms...the sheer amount love and faith that a sleeping infant places in you is an incomparable experience). As children they still like to be cuddled, but only for a moment or two at most, or when they're sleepy and want someone telling them a nice bedtime story. The adolescents are a lot more tricky to handle...sometimes just ruffling someones hair (in innocent affection) can earn you a dirty look (because you may have upset the "do"!...lord forbid!) and a hug may only be reciprocated in an obviously half hearted way...basically it's all about timing in these cases! As they grow still older, touch becomes far more complex as an issue, once they become aware of and explore the issues tied to sexuality. An older relative saying something like "Oh for heaven's sake! I'm your (insert appropriate relation)! I've given you baths when you were a child!", is just considered foolish (if not worse!).

What accounts for this gradual change? Is it something that is purely developmental and a natural consequence of life's progression? 'Assuredly not!', comes my answer. Developmental changes are a part of the issue, but not its entirety. The way we bring up our children and the kind of environment in which we bring them up are equally important parts of the picture. The modern adolescent has to contend with an information overload on sex and sexuality usually from sources far removed from their parents (many of whom are embarrassed or reluctant to explain this matter, largely due to ignorance of how it may be explained in a crisp and healthy way). Forget adolescents...if you pay close attention to the kind of audiences in movie theatres, you will find even children exposed to scenes which would definitely not be recommended for them by any mental health professional (in Mumbai theatres I've seen parents taking babies to night-shows...what the poor things must make of the loud sounds and flashing lights, I can't even begin to imagine!).

So, when I look at the happy faces of the various members of the Corps as they crowd around a table just loaded with some nice refreshments, I cannot help but be thankful...thankful that they've grown up in an environment where care has been taken to keep them sheltered and still answer their most exploratory questions in a non-condescending and informative way. For them, rules have been explained rather than imposed, so instances of overstepping boundaries are few and far-between. Most importantly, nobody has been deprived of the days of innocence that are every child's birthright...

Music Classes

"Pa' Sa Sa Sa' " the Tanpura sang, as I plucked its strings, quickly losing myself in their enchantment. Their sacred sounds filled the room... and I shut my eyes, unwilling to allow any other stimuli to impinge upon my senses...

Last Thursday I resumed my music lessons under Guruji, after a break of almost three months. Exams, vacations and job hunting had left me with no time for my weekly sessions with him and in the bustle of all those activities, I had almost forgotten how sorely I missed music class...I say "almost" because even in that prolonged sabatacle, there were moments when I would look wistfully at my tanpura and wonder when I would have the luxury of riyaaz again! Truly, there are times when absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder and nowhere was this more evident than in my last music class!

There is something magical about the way Guruji tunes a tanpura. I've watched him do it a hundred times and I've developed a general idea about the technique, but the sheer perfection of the sound that he can create within three to four minutes is something I have yet to achieve. Listening to that sound after so many days, I understood, for the first time, what Smt. Kishori Amonkar meant when she once remarked that there are times when even she is hesitant to let her own voice merge with the tanpura's notes. Nevertheless, I was hardly about to sit quietly while Guruji sat opposite me with his hands poised over the tabla set, waiting patiently for me to start singing!

With relish, therefore, I started Raag Bhimpalas, the late afternoon melody that I'm learning at present. A brief pakad (short introductory passage of notes, sung in aakaar) later, I sang the sthayi (first stanza) of Sadaarang's famous compostition "Ja ja re apne mandirawa..." and Guruji struck the sam (first beat) of the teentaal (a 16 beat rhythm cycle), just as I emphasised the shuddha madhyam (natural fourth)...

It is difficult for me to explain the thrill of such music classes. Guruji sits before me, playing the tabla as I sing the Khayal. While I leave the lyrics to pursue the aaalap, he remains in the steady, routine pattern of beats; and when I return to the lyrics he bursts into small but brilliant teentaal-based improvisations, sometimes even bringing in cross rhythms, each of which ends just when I reach the sam. At that very point, when rhythm and melody achieve a confluence, the divine power of music is most evident. Performer and listener alike, lose track of time, everything seems brighter and the air literally vibrates with energy. When the session is over, this sense of unworldly delight remains and you can literally feel the roots of your hair tingling with it!

I've seen this look on the faces of musicians an audiences many a time, regardless of the genre of music or of my liking for it; but experiencing it, even as an amateur musician is something else... Nothing, nothing is comparable to the joy of being an active participant in the creation of music. :)

God Bless!

"Keralah!" (Part III: The Alleppey Backwaters)

Heat wafted through the air in steady waves as the Scorpio whizzed down the flat roads to Alleppey. The countryside was now lined with thick rubber plantations, their tall trees each having a small plastic container tied halfway up their trunks, in which their resin is collected.
Fine yellow dust billowed off the roads behind and before us as the sun beat down on everything in it's sight. The humidity also increased steadily as were grew closer to the famous backwaters of Kerala.

When we entered the town of Alleppey, I was a little dismayed to find it quite a commercial zone with all kinds of shops and other trimmings of modernity violating one's vision with their garish colours. This was soon to change however, as in a short while we were out of the commercial zone and entered the areas closer to the backwaters, where the landscape started changing to more rural and natural scenes. The above picture of a domesticated elephant was taken just before this change took place.


Our vehicle wound it's way through narrow roads lined with coconut trees and other kinds of coastal fauna. Small, one storey-two storey homes peeked out from behind their lush gardens. When we finally stopped, we were informed that we would have to walk down a narrow path alongside a canal, in order to reach our resort, Keraleeyam (left).

Keraleeyam turned out to be a charming old home built in the typical Kerala style about 75 years ago. It was converted recently into a resort-cum-Ayurvedic spa and has rooms within the main building along with several independent cottages. The food is absolutely amazing (you need to place your orders at least 2 hours in advance since they never serve pre-cooked food, but it's well worth the effort, believe me!). I've never eaten coconut rice and vegetable stew as tasty as what was served there, by the attendants attired in traditional Kerala-wear. Further, Keraleeyam is situated right on the edge of the backwaters and so you get an ideal view of the overwhelming contrast between urban and rural Alleppey and you also get to see why those backwaters are called the "Venice of the East".

The gentle lapping of the waters is regularly punctuated by the sound of oars as long wooden canoes ferry villagers back and forth along on the backwaters. Often, the steady humming of houseboats, like the one on the right, creates a temporary disturbance in the backdrop of sounds created by the birds and insects. Once in a while, a flash of vibrant turquoise and crimson, followed by a sleek splash will tell you that a kingfisher has dived for it's prey. Rural Alleppey is crisscrossed by wide canals and lakes that are formed of the backwaters. The villagers and the wildlife are entirely dependent on these waters for food and transport.

On the evening of our first day in Alleppey, we were hailed by a solitary boatman, Girish Kumar (right), who offered to take us on a small trip of the backwaters for a nominal fee (this happens to be quite a regular feature in Alleppey, where villagers often give tourists a canoe ride, to make a buck on the side!). In a short while we were touring the backwaters, making conversation with Girish in hideously broken English and some sign language because there was just no way he could understand a coherent sentence! In his chirpy style he showed us how villages have sprung up on narrow fingers of land that form the sides of canals.

You will never see one house behind another as there is no space for that. The little homes are arranged next to one another in single lines. Each house has its own canoe which bobs about outside the main entrance, and also a little stone niche with steps cut into the banks quite close to the canoe, which serves as a place where the owners of the house bathe and wash dishes (mercifully the water is not stagnant!). Drinking water is available inside the homes, courtesy of bore-wells. Electricity has also found its way to these villages so once in a while you will find a kingfisher perched on one of the cables, peering intently at the water below.
I will never forget the sight of school-goers being ferried to the mainland by their parents with their bags and bicycles early in the morning, followed by ladies going to shop for vegetables and fishermen who travel from island to island, announcing their catch with loud, high-pitched calls.

Rural Alleppey is an extraordinarily beautiful experience. Sunny skies sport the fluffiest white clouds you could imagine...and when you look at the shades of green that explode all along the shorelines, you can't help but think that green is God's favourite colour.



On the second day of our sojourn in Alleppey, we left Keraleeyam and embarked on a day and night of cruising on the backwaters in a rented houseboat, the Goldencap. In the care of Captain Ajaykumar (right) and his crew, we relaxed completely in the quaint luxury of that experience. There are few things you can do in life that can surpass the experience of living in a houseboat, literally waited on hand and foot, by the staff. We flopped in huge cane chairs as Captain Ajay navigated the 102 feet long houseboat through the tranquil waters, pausing every now and then to tell us something new about the lifestyle of the villagers. At mealtimes, we anchored in some place where the crew provided traditional Kerala cuisine prepared in the Goldencap's private kitchen. My dad also managed to haggle admirably with a local fisherman to come back with 4 huge lobsters for dinner!
As night fell on Alleppey, our boat was anchored near a small village. We spent the evening singing songs, trying a spot of fishing with rustic fishing rods and exchanged a few words with some villagers. The occasional passenger boats, which are backwater substitutes for the public buses used by land-dwellers were quite interesting to watch...for no other reason than their existence!

When it was time to sleep, we lacked for no comfort in the surprisingly well equipped and spacious rooms, which were air conditioned and had private toilets. It's something else to be lulled into slumber by the gentle rocking of your boat by the waters on which she is moored. I hope you get to experience this sometime! God bless and until my next post, au revoir!

"Keralah!" (Part II: Thekkady)

Thekkady and its famous Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary formed the second phase of the Kerala vacation. At a considerably lower altitude that Munnar, Thekkady is warm during the day but very pleasant during the evening. It's literally bursting with spacious resorts of all kinds [but I would particualrly recommend Tree Top ( first picture in the column below) and Spice Garden]. There is also no end to the number of shops selling little curios and other knick-knacks for momento-hungry tourists. Apart from visiting the Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary and spice plantations (Thekkady is very famous for the superb quality of spices that are cultivated there). Visitors can also indulge in an extensive Ayurvedic Massage session at one of the numerous massage centres that mushroom all over the small town. Finally there is one small establishment hosting daily performances of Kerala's famous dance form, Kathakali (see the picture above).

Driving down to Thekkady from Munnar was also quite a treat. This time, Shaju zoomed downhill, oblivious to the glares he received from my father or to the plight of the backseat passengers who were tossed unceremoniously from this side to that, each time he sped around a bend in the road...which was a far more prominent feature of the route than desirable!. The air grew steadily warmer until we were forced to turn on the air conditioner. The scenery changed from tea gardens on rolling hills, to dense tropical vegetation and cardamom plantations. Wild flowers burst all along the roadsides...pinks, yellows, furious vermillions. Enormous jackfruits grew along the trunks of innumerable trees (I adore curries made of unripened jackfruit so you can imagine what the sight of those beauties did to my palate!).


Thekkady itself is not a town that immediately impresses you with its appearance. It's mostly a few streets lined from end to end with the entrances of shops and other places like I mentioned earlier. Once you enter the resorts, you get to see some lovely landscaping and as you go closer to the wildlife sanctuary it you get to see the treetops of the dense forest and the air grows thick with the excitement of being so close to un-caged beasts.

Our stay in the Tree Top resort (left), was very pleasant. Clean lodgings, good food (this was the first place where I sampled the famous Kerala Porothas and Theeyal, which is a preparation of shallots in a thick brown gravy laced with coconut milk), beautifully terraced grounds and a comfortable proximity to the sanctuary make it a highly desirable place to set your luggage down for a couple of nights (there is nothing you can do in Thekkady that cannot be accomplished in two days, flat!).

The Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary (left and below, as photographed from our launch) is the best thing about Thekkady. Home to the tiger, leopard, elephant, several species of birds, deer and crocodiles (I think), it is a vast jungle, spread around an enormous water-body that goes right through it. Tourists sit on launches and boats that take them right through the jungle, on the gentle blue waters. If you're on the 4:30pm cruise, then you're assured of a deliciously cool breeze throughout the trip and are most likely to spot animals as they come to drink from the lake. We spotted two species of deer, a family of three elephants, a heron, several types of water birds and what an over-excited co-passenger insisted was a crocodile sunbathing, but which looked more like a dead log to me. The elephants were the highlight of the cruise...it was almost like they decided to display themselves for a while. The materialised literally from nowhere and paraded sombrely down the shores of the lake for a long stretch, completely ignoring the squeals and gasps that erupted on board our launch. There were two cows and a young male walking between them, the three of them walking in an unhurried single file...huge feet moving in clockwork harmony.

Unfortunately, sighting tigers is very rare and spotting leopards is almost unheard of, but just knowing that they're there somewhere and might be watching you from some spot in the vegetation which your human eyes cannot pierce sends a tingle down your spine. As your boat navigates its way between the trunks of trees that are mostly inundated by the lake, you can see all kinds of birds perched on their tips, scanning the water intently for fish.

Overall, the experience of Periyar is an incomparable feast for the senses. If you're the kind of person who can spend hours watching Animal Planet, this place is your dream come true. Don't miss it if you're ever in its neighbourhood! Cheers!

Munnar Pics

Munnar's famous "Echo Point", which is aptly named. The Speedboating is good fun!













One of the waterfalls we saw near Munnar

















"Earring Flowers" (these beauties were right outside our rooms in Blackberry Hills. I didn't seen them in any other part of Munnar).

'Keralah!' (Part I: Munnar)

Two full days have passed since my return from 'God's own country' and I'm still dizzy with the experiences I had there. After several years my family took a much awaited and well-deserved vacation...to be in that hallowed land with my parents and sister was the ideal setting for a treasure trove of memories...

You know, seeing Mumbai from the window of an aeroplane always makes me feel a little sad...it's mostly the stark ugliness of the countless slums that spread like cancerous tissue in the city. All it makes me think about is how urbanization happens at a terrible cost and that our so called development is always at war with mother nature. In sharp contrast was the exhilaration I felt when I saw the impossible greenery of Kochi as my plane made it's gradual descent towards that city. Even while I was in Kochi (just a day and night) I kept marvelling at how spread out the city was, with its criss-crossing water- bodies and how green it was in comparison with Mumbai. I mean, one did find some garish and ghastly architecture every now and then, along with the modern steel and glass shopping mall structures, but by and large there were still a lot more trees in that city than in most other metros that I've seen.

Our stay in Kochi was short (just a day and night), but made very pleasant by the staff of the small but charming hotel we stayed in...an establishment by the name of Lotus 8, which is very close to the airport. If you're even in Kochi for a very short stay or a layover and you want accommodation which is reasonably priced and qualitatively satisfying, Lotus 8 will be just what you need. The food is pretty good...especially the Kerala style breakfasts (go for appams with stew!).

The next morning we were introduced to Shaju, the driver of the Scorpio (an ideal vehicle for extended road trips) that was to be at our disposal throughout the trip. Early in our interactions with him, Shaju demonstrated his 'demon on wheels' nature with his reckless (although obviously experienced) driving, in spite of my father's diplomatic attempts to persuade him to try and avoid playing 'Let's-cheat-death-one-more-time!' Our first destination, the hill-station of Munnar was a whopping 5600 feet above sea level and Shaju got us there in about 3 hours (I believe it takes 5 if you don't go at breakneck speeds!). This feat was accomplished on considerably steep roads and included a break we took midway when we stopped to take pictures at a beautiful waterfall. Throughout the drive, my spirits rose as we covered more altitude and as I felt the air grow cooler against my face. [Give me cold weather any day...if there is one thing I have a serious objection to, it is the feeling of perspiration seeping through one's clothing and eventually leaving its sour smell on its victim...it's something one has to experience abundantly in Mumbai (deep sigh).] When we entered Munnar and I saw acre upon acre of the TATA Tea gardens spreading their glorious blankets on every mountainside, I knew I was very close to heaven...

If Mussourie (apparently called "Queen of the Hills") ever got a good look at Munnar, she would abdicate without a single thought. Munnar just takes your breath away. Endless mountains, rolling tea gardens, thick forests with cloud-kissing treetops, the bluest skies you can imagine, the most vibrant flowers...I could cry (seriously!). To top it all, Munnar has a population of only 25,000, most of which is in the tea garden labourer's community or else working in the various resorts and hotels of that place. Moreover, it is literally guaranteed never to lose its greenery because of the interests of the tea barons who literally own most of its hills and look after them most diligently.

Our resort in Munnar, Blackberry Hills, turned out to have the finest view of the Munnar valley, out of all the other resorts in the place. This was no surprise because it occupies literally an intire hillside. One stays in quaint cottage-like accommodations which are arranged in a descending fashion so you really have to WALK to reach different points in the resort...but You wouldn't find me complaining! The experience of clouds drifting past my face, the sensuous nip in the air and the burst of colour that came with all the flowers that grow in that hallowed land was just what I needed (apart from the fact that even uphill climbs did not make me sweat the way I can sweat by just standing in hot and humid places!). Not a single hotel in Munnar has even a fan...you just don't need it in a place which makes you snuggle under your covers on summer nights! :) GOD I love that place!

In the two days that we spent in Munnar we visited the town (which you can literally cover on foot, in about 30 minutes!), Hydel Park (sadly damaged by earlier rains, but hopefully soon to redeem its horticultural splendour), Echo Point and Matupetty Dam (where we had the most glorious speedboat ride in a lake of the most pristine blue your mind can conjure). Even when the sun shone fiercely, the wind was cold...for a Mumbaikar it was like an illusion! Munnar is also the site for an interesting project of the Indian Government, which has imported cows from Switzerland for some hi-fi dairy project. We were lucky to spot some of the beautiful bovines grazing on lush green hillsides, as Shaju sped through mountain paths. They returned our excited scrutiny with the solemn expressions that only cows can achieve.

I could just go on and on about my experiences, but I'll just end by saying this:

"Clouds gambolled in turquoise heavens,
The wind laughed in lofty trees.
Sunshine sparkled on crystal waters,
And my heart sang to the Hills of Munnar"

I truly hope you see Her someday! God Bless!

The Courage to Fail

My mother is an extraordinary person. I've lived with her for over two decades now, and she has never failed to surprise me with the sheer strength of her character and the singlemindedness with which she has challenged convention and stereotypes, in order to encourage free-thinking in her children.

I could give you loads of examples, but the descriptions would get tedious because most of them would inevitably lead to elaborate explanations of various family situations and you would understand them better only if you knew all the people involved. Nevertheless, there are a few incidents that are easier to communicate and one of them stands out quite powerfully at this point of time.

Last evening, I cam across a very interesting quotation by Erich Fromm, the celebrated psychologist and philosopher, which struck me as being very similar to one of my mother's ideals. It simply read, "There can be no real freedom without the freedom to fail." The moment I read it, the first thought that struck me was that the quote might as well have been my mother's! :)

To illustrate my point, let me give you an example. Several years ago, when I was a nervous young student, in the last year of boarding school and getting ready to start his board examinations, I got a letter from my mother [She had the wonderful habit of writing long and detailed letters to me every week (sometimes envied by other hostelites who received considerably shorter communications from home) in which she kept me abreast of the happenings in our family and also continued to impart her experiences, values and insights]. The letter contained some inspirational and encouraging words that I was glad to read in the light of my upcoming examinations and clipped to its crisp white paper, what a small, folded newspaper cutting. When I unfolded it, I found a short poem, which was about failure and the way in which it could be viewed as a lesson rather than a defeat and, invoking the age-old cliche, as the stepping stone to success (That poem is provided at the end of this post).

When I read it for the first time, I was a little taken aback...my mind did not immediately grasp the abstract idea behind her sending me that poem (till today, I often joke that she sent me that poem because she had no faith in my ability to pass the exam!). Then I found a small note she had written as a post script in which she had explained her reasons for doing so. In her inimitable style she told me that although she had full faith in my abilities, she never wanted me to feel the pressure that some parents bring to bear upon their children in terms of accomplishment. She told me that no matter what happened, I would always be her child and she would always love me. My board exam performance was too minute a thing to have any chance of changing the way she or my father felt about me, so I was not to treat my examinations as a test of their love and respect for me, but only as a single and transitory experience. She just encouraged me to enjoy my studies and my papers, that's all.

The poem was her way, not only of teaching me how to think positively if I did not meet self-set standards, but also a fine example of how she communicates the purity of her thoughts on any subject. She simply takes the most extreme situation she can think of and clarifies her stance on the matter...there have actually been instances when she has told me to actually go and fail in an examination, just for a lark! Laughing at my scandalised expression (because obviously I would do no such thing!) she would tell me that I actually had the freedom to do such a thing if I wanted to test how she was disposed towards the matter. I have never actually thought of doing such a thing, but I cannot tell you how liberating it was to hear her say those things.

You see, we struggle so desperately to meet the standards and expectations of others as well as of ourselves...it can sometimes become so constricting...and our happiness is then contingent on all kinds of accomplishments, marks, results. Should even uncontrollable factors intrude and come in the way of goal attainment, we can be shaken considerably. So, in a steady and sometimes insidious way, we slowly lose our emotional freedom to these 'controllers' and become enslaved by them...we believe that the love, respect and goodwill of others (and more importantly our significant others, varies in direct proportion to our accomplishments...the painful fact is that this is actually true for many people). However, when someone like my mother comes along, quite out of the blue and makes a remark or gesture like the above mentioned, it causes a tremendous surge of inner activity in which those controllers are destroyed, because one realises that one's greatest fears are invalidated. It's as simple as that!

Truly, there is no such freedom as knowing that you can fail and still be whole...and that failure, like success, is a transitory state of mind...you are much more than the sum total of your successes and failures...you are loved...and you are free...

God Bless!

If At First You Don't Succeed....

~~ Author Unknown~~

Failure doesn't mean - "You are a failure,"

It means - You have not succeeded.

Failure doesn't mean - "You accomplished nothing,"

It means - You have learned something.

Failure doesn't mean - "You have been a fool,"

It means - You had a lot of faith.

Failure doesn't mean - "You don't have it,"

It means - You were willing to try.

Failure doesn't mean - "You are inferior,"

It means - You are not perfect.

Failure doesn't mean - "You've wasted your life,"

It means - You have a reason to start afresh.

Failure doesn't mean - "You should give up,"

It means - "You must try harder.

Failure doesn't mean - "You'll never make it,"

It means - It will take a little longer.

Failure doesn't mean - "God has abandoned you,"

It means - God has a better way for you