culture

Of flowers. Noise. Colour. Fragrance.

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And as we sit in Bryant Park in Kodaikanal, the spectrum of colours that stand on green plants are just mind boggling. Theres this endless stream of red and yellow. And then, as we walk a small distance, there is a blue, violet, white mosaic.


I pause to click a few snaps. And in the lens appears what appears to be a Cartoon character. I look away from the camera to admire nature’s fine dance. Many more images seep through the lens’ to the hard disk.

Just then, a bystander says ‘if only these flowers had as much of fragrance like the Jasmine..’ and i seem to agree. Of course, why don’t these flowers have some of that hauntingly waffling fragrance of Jasmine. I think. (of course i love jasmine)

We move on.

In some time we walk to ‘see’ Jasmine meandering by. Peeking from a basket that a vendor carries. And by the time we reach the car, the driver has adorned the rear view mirror too. And the aroma fills the car. The question returns. And i wish there was some more colour !


A few days from then, we reach Madurai. And folks at home wear flowers. And this question of colour remains. Dormant. You don’t speak it.(of course not). Ah ! But the mind resonates with ‘If only there was some more colour to the flower…!

The next morning, i am on my morning jog. At the Corporation Park. They have many signboards. And here is one that i pause to read. ” Every flower has its own beauty, you cannot compare two flowers…. ” And after reading those two lines, i stop. To read the full signboard.


Of course ! Of course ! The Jasmine regains its unparalleled height in my mind. And so do the colourful tapestry of flowers from Bryant Park. Each reigning in boundary less kingdoms.

I laugh. Suddenly i feel handsome. Powerful. Light. Simple. A thousand life events zip by in those intervening second. Even ‘Kavis Musings’ with all its faults seems OK !

I quickly re-pass the resolution that i slip out of. Often. ‘Do whats to be done. And leave out the rest’

And so, i jog on. And as another man sprints by, i tell myself ‘Yes leave the rest out. The rest of it is noise’.

In praise of braids

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The braids have almost but disappeared. (Except in rope designs, ofcourse). In the neighbourhoods that I live in. Or maybe, I am not looking thoroughly. But their omni presence in smaller neighbourhoods bring about the curiosity about what makes them disappear from the big cities !

‘It takes a while’ said a young mom back in the city. And went on to explain that hair has to be oiled well, combed free of small intertwining, and then, carefully ‘woven’ together and finished with a flourish with a striking red ribbon! (statutory disclaimer: This is both a recounted and translated version. So, mistakes could exist in the order and content. Please do not attempt it in this order, without expert help).

With fast lifestyles, TV and late nights, there’s just about time to make it to the school bus before the helpful school bus driver’s second honk! And of course, with twin careers (both in knots) and thoughts braided within the brain, who wants one (or two) more outside? And not in the least, the kids!



But, this is still in vogue. Atleast in South India. Atleast in villages. And most definitely, in certain sections of society. Where the hair is worked on with care. And the braids come on with a certain shiny oily elegance. Finished with love and a flourish of white Jasmine to go with the gloss of oiled hair topped with a blazing red of the ribbon.

I am told by people with insider information, that this process helps in strengthening hair! I have the faintest of ideas. The balding plate is further excuse. The closest that I have come to such knotty affairs in recent times is knowing Lolla Kutty has a group on Facebook. (Of which I am yet to become a member. Ok ?) Just saying.

The travelers roving eye spots many things. Many stay knotted in the mind or on the camera. Some find a way to the blog. This was one such.

Naah-No gazing !

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Its been on the dinner table for some time. As conversation that is. Its been on the parliament’s table. For the same reason. And its been successful fodder to trainers and training programs : For a variety of reasons. ‘Innovation’. ‘Self Belief’. ‘Keeping a promise.’ ‘Positioning’. And an endless more.

Finally, the rubber is meeting the road. After all ! Yes. The Nano is here. You can buy one online ! But hold on. Hold on. Dont go away. This is not yet another post cooing the wonder that this is becoming ! This post isn’t about the Nano.

(You sure must have read about the cobbler and the bus conductor queueing up to buy. And amongst the many images, i am also told by a neighbour of those driving into a Tata Dealership in a Ford Endeavour to check it out for their ‘college going daughter’. It would have fit into his Endeavour as a take away from a restaurant would have !!)

Closer home, a friend’s friend, has booked 3 Nanos for the home. For the wife. For the mother. And one, generally. Monthly installments on the car, my friend supposes to range in the range of Rs.1,500/- ( $ 30 ). Suddenly, the car becomes a distinct possibility for a small man like me.

Ok. Ok. No. No. This post isn’t about any of that.

This is a crystal ball gazing post into the middle and long term future. And now, armed with the might of my incisive arm chair wisdom & a looming Monday, these are predictions of what the Nano will do.

With the rich, the middle class, the inbetweens, the pretenders and just about everyone else ( save Mamta Banerjee ) wanting to get one, Indian roads are all set to change. India too is all set to change !

Circa 2015


a. Employment Generation increases manifold : You need more policemen on the road. More mechanics. More arbitrators. More insurance agents. More scrap dealers. More driving schools. More RTO offices to grant driving licences. More agents in the same RTO offices. More road building machines. More operators of those machines …. You get the idea right ?

b. Construction industry is booming: With all the world on the road, where would you park. Of course, Parking skyscrapers are being built. And cars would be parked right up there !

Corporations across the country have made it mandatory for apartment complexes to house one more sky scrapper : The parking sky scrapper. With five cars for a four member family, you wouldnt owners to park in living rooms right ?

c. Meters’ Down : For the rest of the folks who still have resisted the revolution and chosen to go without purchasing the Nano are travelling by Nano taxis ! Mumbai no longer has Premier Padminis as Taxis. And Kolkatta has consigned all Ambassador taxis to Singur.

d. Fashions’ Up : Fashion officianados make their cars fashionable. Paint their cars with objectionable images and articulate graffiti. If some local leader, didnt like it, they scrap the paint. If it costs as much as it does to buy, it costs a fraction to paint ! Better still buy a new one !

e. And a new culture is born: There is peace and harmony in the lives of all Tata Nano homes. When other cars bump into them, they are remarkably calm. If a police officer catches them doing something wrong, they are remarkably calm. For they have in them, the right of first refusal. I mean, they hand over the keys to whoever cares in that area, and walk away !

f. Shoe sales is way up : Seriously. Now hold your breadth. Drivers, owners and brand loyalists of other cars are jealous of the Nano and its mass appeal. With a general air of irritability, they have been throwing their shoes around ! Now, a common habit ,that was introduced to them in 2009. So, shoe production is up !

Naah-No !?!

Anyone for coffee ?

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We are brewing. Really. New brew ! We have officially established South Indian rule in our home ! Yes. We We too drink Filter Coffee !! I mean, we too make it at home. Right here! And yes. We too have arrived ! (Wikipedia has all the details for you here !)

Amongst the many that i talk to, any discussions around my origins invariably lead to a discussion around Filter Coffee. The sharp eyed would have spotted my squirm and a shuffle of feet. Or atleast a shuffle of fingers of the feet, inside the shoe.

For in the family, ‘filter coffee’ was confined to the borders of Tamil territory. In our family tree. But we broke it all.


During this trip back home, coffee powder was picked up. ” ‘PB’ standing for ‘Peaberry’ ” we were told. The coffee filter was picked up, right here in Mumbai. And voila there is a decoction and the strong aroma of coffee that waffles through the morning air are now common place.

To the uninitiated, this may not be big deal. Neither was Filter coffee a big deal to us, until we moved here. North of the deep south !! Here, good old Filter Coffee is seen as an integral part of a Tamil existence. That connection seems to rule common mind space. Like a cross to Christ !!! Very rightly so !

Sample this. We would have guests at home. The best of good food would be served, nay, attempted. And promptly showered with wonderful critical acclaim that’s generous. And then a few thinly veiled questions would surface about filter coffee. You know, something like, ” the food was tastier than the ones that we get in Matunga, but over there you get filter coffee also’ !

And we would grin and mouth our ‘thank yous’. Pretending that their statements didn’t go beyond the comma. Now, the guests who did comment were a small minority. But you know, we feared the worst. Even when nothing was said !!!

But now, hey, we too have filter coffee !

And as the coffee sinks in, leaving a strong aftertaste in the mouth and in the air around too, we glance at slogans like “coffee drinkers are better thinkers” with a new slant !

But you know something, the coffee is something. Really something. Today, i wondered why there is so much of connection to the drink. I wonder if its because it helps me connect with home, with every sip? I haven’t been a great fan of coffee. Until now.

I don’t know.

But that’s not whats important. Whats important is this : The guest list is being refurbished. With some confidence ! Aha !

Now, anyone for coffee ?

Madurai Malli !

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clicked outside Meenakshi Amman Temple, Madurai

Ok. All those wonderful ladies who asked me to post pictures from Madurai, this post is especially for you !! It would be a error of judgment if i put in four -five posts on Madurai and didn’t get the flowers in ! Madurai Malli ( Malli = Jasmine )

Yes. The legendary Jasmine flowers from Madurai are world famous. I would give two hoots and a half to ‘world famous’. I would give the world to the wonderful and distinct aroma that the Madurai Jasmine permeates.

clicked outside Meenakshi Amman Temple, Madurai

My dad published a book on flower marketing. That was downright confusing. Flowers meant those white nice smelling thing in baskets, and endless bargaining over a few paise!

Of course, there was a wonderful aroma in the air when the flowers were around…but a book was way too much ! Years later, i realised that Jasmine exported world over from Madurai is quite something indeed.

The flowers that you see in Madurai are so neatly knit and so tightly knit too. There just is no space in between two flowers ! Such a contrast from many other parts of the country where there is so much space between two flowers, that if it were a border between India and Pakistan, we would be at war with each other every day !

clicked outside Meenakshi Amman Temple, Madurai

Wearing flowers on a daily basis is a very daily thing for women in Tamil heartland ! In certain parts of India, i am told that this is not the practice. But hey, numerous tamil films have indoctrinated in us that to demonstrate love, you give your lady love :Jasmine flowers. Roses were very western !

clicked at a wedding in Madurai
And ah, the very many patterns & designs that such flowers take on the head, that indeed is something! That’s supposed to leave an impact on the eye, after the nose was taken in by the aroma !

For some reason, this post reads like a documentary ! I have scratched my head enough. But today, thinking of the Jasmine aroma… my mind doesn’t work. The fingers seem to have glue coursing in them. So, i leave it that !

Phew ! What a disgrace. To documentaries ! And of course to flowers !

Cutting Chai !

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An art installation on Cutting Chai at the Kala Ghoda festival

‘Give me two cutting’ shouted a colleague. That was some months ago after a careless & loud ‘would you care for a tea’?!? I was new to Mumbai, staring wide eyed at every interaction & new culture. And this was my first tryst with a roadside tea shop in Mumbai. There were a group of us. And his sound thundered. ‘Dho cutting chai’ ( RTT: Two cutting tea) ‘Cutting?”

The infamous imagination wandered. “Cutting?” Now what was that !?! Whatever could it be ? I rankled all of my ramshackle brain.

And just as the tea was getting made, i conjured up the following.

Could it be ‘cutting edge’ tea? Like embellished with secret potions of nectar and holy water. Perhaps it had some technology infusion. Perhaps it helped survive the heat and the crowd. And gave a degree of resilience ! All of that could fall under the category of ‘cutting edge’.

Or perhaps it was to do with ‘cut’ as in ‘take a cut’. As in bribes. As in stock market gains. And so on. So, perhaps ‘cutting’ meant the shop keeper would take a sip before serving it to you, perhaps !

Or perhaps it was tea with lesser quantum of sugar, milk, tea powder. You know, tea where some quantity of regular ingredients were cut off !?! Budgetary necessities. Perhaps dietary !

Perhaps it was tea to give you an incisive cut !! Like in Julius Caesar, ‘this was the most unkindest cut of all’ !

Maybe it was to do with multi lane driving, where one driver from another lane ‘cut into your lane’, and the tea kind of cut into your routine.. That sounded far fetched.

The mind wandered and multiple visages of tailors dangling big scissors to accountants with spreadsheets, to doctors on operating tables with a phalanx of anaesthetists came up.

To put a stop all the floating images that were terrifying me further, with a hesitant quiver, i asked ‘err…what is cutting tea’ ?

There was a cumulative commotion of explanations. And the essence was ‘one’ ‘tea’, split in two ( or more) glasses for two (or more) people. And variants there on !

I said, “ah ! Back in Bangalore, its called ‘By – Two’ ” and before i could explain that its origins were in ‘one cup divided by two’, one wisecrack in the group, asked aloud : ‘Bite Who ? That sounds violent !”

I was new here. And i wanted to make friends. And in all seriouslness i said : “Yes. By-two sounds so violent. Cutting is so smooth’. There was a solemness that emerged from nowhere. And i gulped the tea.

I have embraced Mumbai since then, with multiple rounds of cutting tea ! That group member who abhors violence, for some strange reason goes the other way when i walk by.

(This post was inspired by a rekindled memory, thanks to an art installation on ‘Cutting Chai’ at the Kala Ghoda Festival )

Kala Ghoda Festival ’09

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The Kala Ghoda Art Festival of Mumbai beckoned. Kala Ghoda ( Black Horse ) is the name of that area. (Named after a statue of Prince Edward astride on a black horse, which incidentally is long gone) .

Read the details of the festival here.

A festival, to my mind, is a swarm of people, a riot of colour, a ring of happiness, sounds of cheer, loads of music, tonnes to see, and of course leaves you with a ring of joy. That’s what happens at the Chitrai festival in Madurai.

That’s what happens at all festivals. That’s something that was abundant at the Kala Ghoda Festival too. Make no mistake though, each has a different character and ring to it !

Here are some pictures from the Kala Ghoda festival !

The Entry Arch !
Art out of bottles, buckets and such other ‘water carriers’ ! The amount of plastic and waste that we use seem to be going sky high !

We seek to look upto the sky for some answers !

This stall both educated and appealed to the people with toilets at home. And sought to remind that there are many without that facility. And what a way to do that ! This one stayed with me.
The stage backdrop

A clothes stall with puppets in front.


Of course. The symbolism was hard to miss. As i stood outside, looking at other sights, the missus was inside !

A flute vendor


I wonder why they don’t give some flute lessons along ! The chap plays flute so well, that you are tempted to buy it with the hope that the magic is in the flute. And that you too would be able to pull off such mellifluous music from thin air.

Alas. When the flute comes to my lip, all it could produce was a vague gust of air and some strange sound that was almost like a fire alarm.

A wire made man walking a narrow strips !

Art from metal was captivating ! And captivating was just not the word. I stood there for a long while. Just to revel in the ingenuity of the human mind. And wondered why we seem to go in tangents so very often.


There are faces on the wall. They seem to be saying something. And that’s there on all walls of the world ! Aren’t there !?!

Empty well arranged bottles that had a people squinting, jostling and keen to look at what was inside ! And all the jostle had more people jostling to take a look ! Curiosity value gets some takers ! But this Osmosis was quite a sight !!
A kathak performance that we watched. Enthralled. Standing. Jostling. Yet, eyes rivet ted on the synchronous movement of legs, arms and body, to create a delight for the eyes and the ears.

And when we walked away at the end of it all, there was no mistaking the thrill that was there in our hearts !

Horses For The Courses

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They talk of studs. Stud farms. Jockeys. Race Courses. Fancy names. And so on. And yet, when i see a horse gallop, i always stop. Immaterial of whether it is pulling a gluttonous gent seated with imperial majesty on a ramshackle cart, or a ‘Polo” t-shirt wearing gent playing..polo !

Or for that matter, those boys who ply these majestic animals for prosaic tasks. Like a ride across a litter laden beach. Or a worse litter laden hill station. The setting hasn’t mattered. A horse always catches my attention.

I guess it started with an English lesson, i think it was in Class II, called ‘Black Beauty’. A tale of a black horse with a white patch on his forehead. I know i can never come to owning one. Nor would i want to.


But that doesn’t stop me from staring and looking at how majestic they are. This team intrigued me. They stood in all colour. Steady. And still. At a family deity’s temple close to Madurai. They stood in majestic style ooze. Even though one among them was headless. A hopeless vandal or a mischievous child would have done his or her bit to shape the landscape (sic) ! T

he steady white and the riot of colour on them, seem to give them a character. A character that,i thought gave these lifeless forms a strange double life ! After all, these were celestial horses. Meant for the Gods !


This was clicked outside a mall in Bangalore. The ‘false legged horse’ (Poi Kal Kudhirai) is a dance form that amazes me no end. An inanimate horse brought to life by a human being, who animatedly rides the inanimate horse, to synchronised music and a colour riot !

How better can it get ?

Well, for starters this can still continue to be a ‘performance’ and not compete with a marketing ‘offer’ or a sales promotion effort ! This demeans a dance form.

And oh, yes, demeans horses too !