Taste of a pioneer Thanksgiving November 5 2018

An early Thanksgiving and a culinary history lesson :
This weekend we visited the pioneer homestead in a forest preserve nearby. It is a replica of an early settler’s home. A few ladies organized and hosted the wonderful throwback Thanksgiving dinner. As I was looking for a pared down Thanksgiving this year,( I agree, the previous ones were progressively becoming excessive! due to many reasons 😋), the visit was doubly helpful and timely. But above all, the short trip was very satisfying - the curvy road through the autumn hued forest, a river flowing along the side, the deer peeking through the trees and darting across at times, all leading to the little wood cabin.

Like a fairy tale setting, with the tall yellow leaved trees and ravines in the background, the little cabin sat daintily in the clearing. The little front porch with its wooden benches invited us in to the golden warmth of the house. The soft light of candles added to the ambience. This apparently used to be the main room with its wood floors and fireplace. There were cast iron pots hanging over the fire in the hearth, in which a soup with locally picked mushroom and herbs, and a persimmon bread pudding was getting cooked. A wooden staircase led to the loft/attic like area upstirs. It had a small window overlooking the forest. There were looms, churns, and other home appliances displayed here.

Outside, close to the house is a little vegetable patch. A little away, in a Dutch oven with fire over and underneath, a chunk of venison was being slowly cooked along with carrots, parsnips and celery. There were heavenly corn fritters, and cranberry sauce , all cooked the old fashioned way. The bread was homemade and it had homemade goat cheese on it. There were walnuts, pecans, and chestnuts, all available back then in the area. Even the persimmons are from around there!

The gracious ladies, all dressed in period costumes explained that in a mid level household in the 1800s, a typical Thanksgiving dinner consisted of pork, and wild fowl like goose and duck. Turkey was not that much prevalent. Apples were, and so were squashes and beans and nuts, and of course, bread. They liked vegetables in a creamy sauce too.

This lead me to read further about old Thanksgivings, say, around the 1600s, when even the current staples like potatoes, wheat flour , cranberries, and sweet potatoes were absent. That took me to the 1800s, and to Sarah Josepha Hale, an editor of a ladies magazine who tirelessly worked to bring about the modern Thanksgiving traditions. Amazing . Amazing woman! She convinced President Lincoln to declare the Thanksgiving day as a holiday, pointing out that it will unify the Civil War ravaged country. Do read about her. (Btw, her Thanksgiving menu shows that I still have scope to expand my menu! Thankfully, I will follow the Midwest one, more similar to this little cabin one)

All along, that little cabin reminds me, we dont really need that much, do we? A little place with not much ”stuff” so that when we leave we dont leave as much debris for others to sift through. And that fire! That, I am sure would have awakened some shared, warm, collective memories from our buried primeval pasts in the minds of all those who came there!

And what an engaging way to preserve and share the history of a place! This of course is not a rarity here. Wish we did something like this back home!

Prof. N. Natarajan on Mothers and Virgins : A Novel

First let me tell you that the novel reads as a novel well with its narratological innovations/mix/collage whatever we call it.A  narrative/novel  is  molded/welded as a drama with its  dramaturgical  make-up: “Welcome to the Nazrani Show”, [the narrator/dramatist  introducing]  Anarkali’s matrophobic and matrophillic affiliation with her mother], Intermission, Curtain and in between, the Chapters camouflaging as Scenes which  alternate with Anarkali being third-personized and Annakili being first-personized. And in the last chapter/scene we see the contiguous merger of the doubles, Anu and Anna in the present tense and the novel /show starts and ends in Kombodinjaapplakkal /Kerala and in between we are/were in paradise ill or well /America.

 In fact the first scene/chapter starts with the present  in Kombodinjaapplakkal/Thrissur/Kerala  in the  present tense  and slides to past /paradise/America  and  we are allowed into the stream of consciousness of  Anarkali whose child/girl/marriage/divorcehoods trickle like water to wet us in the past tense. At the same time in the present tense she [an American-returned]  is ideological in her leaving America/husband and economical in her having had  left for America before that, to remain a virgin even after the so-called first night thanks  to her husband’s impotence. And to top it all before her marriage she was kept  a virgin by her mother and her brothers; standards of conduct of women in Kerala – she is/was/will be always /already caught in between the  ideology of conduct and the conduct of ideology for women – no escape and no regret either because she is already/always committed to her parents whether she likes it or not.  That is the tragedy/comedy of her life. Being a history student she exposes the claims of past history of/ across the world and wants to rewrite it and succeeds in it to some extent, she thinks.

In the second chapter/scene , the narrator/dramatist allows the second woman,  Anna to narrate/dramatize  her-story herself – the intrusion we find  earlier of the narrator is not here, she is totally free to say whatever she likes , whereas that freedom is not given to Anu , she is imprisoned in the prison-house of the narrator/dramatist. This being caged imagery is not available to Anna, so she is completely free to wallow in her thoughts.

Whatever I guessed in the beginning itself that A nu/nna  are the same per son/daughter is confirmed by the  anonymous dramatist/narrativist in the Intermission, while  talking to the reader-- western and eastern. Using the all inclusive WE, the narratist [a portmanteau from narr(ator) and (dram)atist] raises the question. “By the way, do you [ i.e., Us Readers] wonder who this busy body know it all narrator is? Who is the real teller/writer of the story? And Anarkali and Anna? Do you think they are one and the same person? That one is the creation of the other? Well …. Anyway it doesn’t matter. Nothing does. After all we [ including the writer of the teller/writer and the reader] are only what we think ourselves to be.” [pp197-8]. This “We” is distinguished from the teller/writer of the story and it is this “we” who introduces the Narrator who “introduces Anarkali” [p.9] and “lets Anna introduce herself” [p.53]. But the all inclusive “we” seems to be  the narrator of the Narrator who is the narrator/controller  of the teller/writer, Anarkali and Anna. As I said earlier Anarkali is third personized / introduced/told by the Narrator and Anarkali is under the control of the Narrator just as she is under the control of her mother  first and husband next, from both of whom  she liberates herself , living alone Single.  And again it is this Narrator who “lets Anna introduce herself and tell her story by herself thereby being first personized. And  Anarkali and Anna who first met in the boarding school also meet in the last scene to pull down the curtain. Again it is the Narrator, who created Anarkali who creates Anna also, Who is this Narrator seemed to be  created by an all inclusive We. Minus the reader from the all inclusive We and the We will become identified with the writer/teller of the Narrator who gets identified with the writer/teller of the story, Anarkali and Anna. All the eggs come from the same hen! And in that case who is this we/narrator of Narrator/Teller/Writer of teller/writer, Anarkali/Anna,  it is none other than the author of the novel, A.Bernard available/mentioned on the front jacket of the novel. And A. J. Bernard on the spine of the book. What is the sex/gender of this author, that is available on the back jacket of the novel, - “Asha Bernard lives in Champaign, IL”. So the author is not Bernard who is given the initial A [ a very formidable feminist counter  to the traditional patriarchal act of giving initial to daughters/wives after father first and husband next, only a woman has to change her initial after marriage, but not being a man, she is compelled to move from miss to Mrs [ by missing miss]  but he remains Mr always/already.] So the author of the novel is Asha Bernard , [should be in the frontispiece itself, so the author  A. Bernard is a miss-nomer], so the author   is a woman, it is  whose creation/narration is the Narrator who creates/narrates  Anarkali and Anna, who seem to be two versions of the same Person – Narrator – Asha Bernard and now I can see the invisible/inevitable links between the factual and the fictional, Asha/Anarkali/Anna. Anarkali and Anna are the two complementary versions of Asha, the Schizo –Narrator  who operates through Anu and Anna providing a stark naked FORMIDABLE GYNOCENTRIC VIEW OF THE NOVEL/WORLD, that is where the fulcrum of this di-asporic novel lies. [The first night of Anu is told from her angle but not from his angle for example/ not even his name is revealed, he is called always her husband, called a spineless man by Pearl etc]

Asha the Narratist creates the  Narrator who tells the story of Anarkali who indulges in ideological writings with her Indo-centrism and permits Anna  to tell her story as a feminist – this is how the Narrator/Narratist third-personizes  and  first personizes herself  at the same time – seeing herself as object [Anu] and as subject [Anna] – the Narratist is torn between Anu and Anna who are the two sides of the same coin. Versions of a typical diasporic [Indian] wife who lived/lives in and who leaves /not leaves America.  AND more appropriately who, simultaneously wants to leave and doesnotwant to leave America/husband. And that is the dilemma of the narratist where she seems to be a Schizo [ not the Freudian psychotic patient but  the Guattarian  Schizo -- the deterritorialized hero who can think anew without subscribing to any pressure] living in two worlds simultaneously enjoying/suffering. And this schizo angst of the Narratist is fulfilled in Anu and Anna  - both possess/ are possessed by two husbands who happen to be ironically Cardiologists., which plainly means heart-specialists!? Anu negatively leaves him and Anna positively leaves him – in either case the husbands don’t occupy totally the topographies of their minds – though physically it is different. For Anu her husband’s impotence in possessing her body in sex leads to their dispossession of each. Anu is not able to detach him from his mother, from his possible lady: Lorna who arrives later to break the tie – the same thing would have happened had they lived in Kerala too - husband’s impotence, mother-in-law’s dominance, husband’s premarital love/postmarital adultery etc. This is the one version and the counter version is found in Anna  who suffers neither husband’s impotence nor mother-in-law’s dominance nor husband’s over “potence” /other sexual escapades [ for they live in Kerala]. Result with her son Ajay she lives happily with her husband John, but she wants more, so her mind uses her husband only like a curryleaf – it is a detached attachment or an attached detachment, whatever you call it. And her story is told not from her husband’s angle but only from hers.

Anu has had her sharp  eyed boy to always munch and remunch in reality and dreams – Ashok, [ his name is given but not her husband’s, giving/asking one’s name is recognising one’s culture as Anu feels , that privilege is not given to Anu’s husband by the Narrator/Narratist]  and the same with Anna who always enjoys her  hallucinations of her brown-eyed boy Ashwin.

It thus seems Anu and Anna are the two simultaneous sides of the Narratist who suffers the necessity and the impossibility of accepting patriarchal Kerala/husband /America at the same time. Hence I called the Narratist a Schizo who lives in two worlds/possibilities without subscribing to them – a lotus in the water state.  Both live in their pasts – which haunt them like hallucinations. For a schizo should have hallucinations, personal or private, sexual or ideological etc.,.

Both Anu and Anna’s hallucinations are not only personal/sexual but also cultural/ideological. With her history background Anu foregrounds a new history after deconstructing the available histories, across the centuries, of the world – both west and east – thereby trying to recover/discover the unwritten her-story of the his-tory, it is no doubt intellectually/comparatively interesting and enlightening. Likewise Anna with her Literature background tries to deconstruct the female/gender-amnesiac cultures with her anti-virgin stories and feminist writings. Her ameliorative longing, in her feminist tract, for freeing women from the pain/pang of child bearing and rearing is original and laudable – it is here they are Guattarian in creating new concepts/theories for humanity and its comforts. Anu’s The Anger of Civilizations  parallels Anna’s The Anger of Female Body, I should say.

Last but not least I should mention  the virginity syndrome  promoted/ suffered by not only Nazrani families but also men and women from all cultures  is treated in the novel sometimes seriously/tragically, sometimes humorously/comically depending upon persons involved in it with diverse definitions etc. And in all it seems it is more  a Matter of Body  than of Mind – so both Anu / Anna remain [s] Virgins even now in their forties enjoying/suffering   their sexual dalliance with their counternuts , Ashok/Ashwin – of course not in BODY but in MIND!? –really even now I wonder, even I am amused,  at the nomenclatural links between Anu, Anna, Ashok and Ashwin  as well as at ‘A’s proliferating with A-SH-A, the author of this very interesting/illuminating gynocentric novel. And no doubt the novel also turns out to be a very recent Cultural text in its debunking classical positions/practices in religion/history/philosophy/society/family i.e. . all the dimensions of its culture. which needs further elaboration not done here.

With Lots of wishes to her to further bloom as a novelist!

Best

nn

 

Thank you very much, Dr NN , for this analysis of my novel. It has been over 10 years since I wrote this, and I am happy that you read this and took the time to write these thoughts down.

what is this "birdday"?

These days, I can't escape listening to educated Indians wish someone a happy birdday, on their birthday. what is that? and why?
Boggles the mind.
Same as someone saying 'TUUMERIC" for turmeric.
and "ceyyular" for cellular.
and cardamon for cardamom, and cinnamom for cinnamon.
and naming Indian food, "curry" and saying it is a spice.
or calling native Americans, Indians.
Or spelling definitely as "definately". And saying"mischievious" for mischievous.

Again, mindboggling. Now, if it is a quirk of an individual, I wouldn't mind. But when a whole group of people repeats it, it becomes annoying.

But I guess, this is how things become standard, how boundaries are blurred.

Local affairs - restaurant-wise - Part 2

So we were on the subject of searing and browning. How a lack of that can make or break a dish. And tasting for salt and pepper. Giving it a little more time and effort will make so much of  difference, especially when there are not many or even no spices in the dish. Love my garlic. Crushed red pepper. And ginger. And cinnamon, and cardamom, star anise, coriander and .... . Well, pardon my Malayali/ Indian palate. We are on browning though.  For instance, that is what I loved about Niro's Gyros on Springfield. The lamb slices in their gyro used to be browned. And their fries are still great. But these days, that dreaded boiled and bland effect .Sadly, had to give that up.Tried Supergyro once, and that was enough. Not going back. Now, Penn Station on Town Center Blvd, serves a great Philly and fries. The meat is browned and is flavorful. Unfortunately they use peanut oil, so sadly cannot eat their food.

Now my favorite Mexican place to eat is Dos Reales on Prospect Ave. I like that place more for the ambience too. The buzz. The life. The laughter and the sound of people talking and enjoying their respective company. And the food. Large portions. With their homemade hot sauce. Especially the fajitas, and the shrimp diablo. Now sometimes they forget to sear the meat and the shrimp and the taste does suffer. But on the whole, a thoroughly enjoyable experience. I haven't  tried El Toro yet, which gets the popular vote on that People Choice list. Will see. Also have to try the Maize.

Baxter's on Neil has quite a variety of items on their menu. I like their burger, their jambalaya is good, a nice place to have a cocktail and a bite to eat. Another nice place to go to is Houlihan's.
I like to walk to Guido's in downtown Champaign for a cocktail and burger too. Sometimes we get lucky with a great nicely mixed cocktail. At other times, not that much. But still the location is great to sit and drink and just relax. Big Grove was the first place we went to when we came to Champaign. It was around 3 on a week day and the place was kind of quiet. We had tea and snacks at the counter. It was nice and we decided to go back there for a drink later. And we did. It was nice. But then a couple of times, on our walks, we stopped by and were told we needed reservation. Guess it was our very informal attire that put the elegant reception people off. Or some other more legitimate reason. Anyway that was how we switched our allegiance to Guido's. We were all right there. Kofusion has good sushi and drinks too. When we don't want to feel full we go there. And I am not a big sushi fan.

It was by chance we stepped into Watson's Shack and Rail in downtown Champaign. I was surprised at the hot chicken I got there! Not bad! Happy me. Loved their decor too. Very country. Southern style, I am told. On the other end, Hamilton Walker's is  an impressive place in a different way. I got that old movie New York vibe there. One of those places with live jazz. Cool and dark and with those plush leather booths and chairs and mural on the wall, it is good to be in there. Food was okay too, should go there again and remind myself.

More later.

local affairs, restaurant-wise - Part 1

We have been living here for a few years now, and have eaten at quite a few of the area's restaurants. And have enjoyed the food at most of them. It is my sadness at the closing of some of my favorites that made me write this piece. Well, not surprising since these days what I seem to be passionate about is eating and more eating.

Anyway, if you ask me which my most favorite Chinese restaurant is, I would say South China restaurant on Springfield,  during 2015 - 2017 period. After that, I think they changed  hands, or changed their chef, the taste started deteriorating. For instance, one of my favorite item the sauteed green pepper and beef became boiled beef and peppers. That seared flavor was gone. Towards the end, everything got sweeter and sweeter. And sadly, now they are closed - permanently. I know they were hit by a few violation notices too. Now, the other Chinese restaurant that got all the votes on news-gazette people choice, the Rainbow Garden, we tried them. They are okay. But again the sweetness is not to my liking. Szechwan China on First Street has a pretty good hotpot, but I preferred the old South China's flavors. Golden Harbor is ok, the one great thing about them being that they consider those with allergies.

My favorite Thai restaurant is Thara Thai on Bloomington Rd. Their spicy beef red curry and rice is done to my liking. Nice portions too.  And I have been to Sticky Rice and My Thai.

Minecci's was my favorite Italian restaurant. I loved their desserts, especially the creme brulee , cream puffs and cannoli. Now creme brulee is something by which I assess the standard of a restaurant, same as French macarons in cafes. Because not all get it right, even though you may expect it to be easy for the experts. I remember having one at a McCormick restaurant in Boston. It was disappointingly runny, really watery with no sugar crust, of course. Minecci's got it right, texture wise, flavor wise. The pudding was set anyway, even if it wasn't made of all yolks and cream,and the sweetness was not overpowering. But then they are closed too - permanently.

I liked Za's too, for their soups, pizzas and tiramisu and limoncello cakes. Again, to me they had got it right. If they had a more beautiful surrounding, they could have really had a great sidewalk cafe thing going. It was a nice place to go have a coffee and a bite, (better than Pekara or Aroma).  Sadly, they are closed too.

Dublin O'Neils pub downtown was a great idea, and I liked to eat there, for that idea -- the Irish British thing. They could have made it  look more Irish, and taste more like it too. It was with great anticipation that I ordered their sausage and mash. In my mind, I had those heavenly sausages of ye old England resting on a mound of mashed potatoes, smothered in that brown onion gravy. like the ones I had the chance to gobble down in London one day. Sadly, there was no gravy at all, and the sausages were nowhere near the originals in taste or appearance. That restaurant is gone too. Now if you are wondering how I knew about these English food items, no, we did not eat these in India. At first,  I learned of these from books, as  a student. Movies came later. And while we are on the topic, the other English staples that I have seen here -- scones, strawberry shortcake, custard, -- let’s say, I prefer the English flavor and look. Just like I cannot forget the taste of the croissants in Paris. And that trip was not even good, it was a chance detour by Air India on our way from India to Chicago via Frankfurt. After a whole day of neglect and starvation, we were put up in hotels for the night. But a small group were brave enough to go out to see the Eiffel Tower and I tagged along. That is all. But the memory of those flaky, buttery, crisp on the outside, layered croissants they had served for breakfast at the hotel still stays fresh.

Speaking of sausages, one of my favorite kinds is the bratwurst. In fact, I think in a pinch, they can be used in our mash. I like them beer-poached and pan-seared to that golden brown. And with a topping of caramelized onions, they are irresistible. Again, we would think it would be easy for the experts to do it. Alas, no. I tried it at the local Octoberfest, and I wanted to cry. Didn’t  know we could make them that dry and that bland! And then came October at Wienerschnitzel. And they had this wonderfully done brats with caramelized onions to boot! Happy, happy, happy. But the next October, they took the short cut -- they stopped searing it, and the onions were too meagre to taste. So that's that. Portillo's has a brat that again, to me has that bland and boiled aura. But a little better than that Octoberfest one.

Lesson: the importance of searing and browning in the realm of taste. And of caramelized onions. That is why I love a simple onion tart, as long the onions are you know what.

Rise and Shine, Kerala! (my thoughts on Kerala matters)

This flooding has been an unprecedented disaster in the history of my little home land. We have not experienced such a widespread, large scale suffering in Kerala, in this century. One that touched everyone one way or the other. Wars, the Partition, famines – none of those have touched us that hard on the whole. We are used to the Monsoon rains, and its accompanying frustrations, and joys. We are used to flooding in the sense that we read and hear about it with regards to certain areas. It was as if they did not affect us. Some areas, especially the coastal areas and also those around the  hill ranges suffer more, but again, shamefully I have to admit, it became an item in the news. Overall, the rains were soothing, and poetic, at times, dramatic with the powerful thunder and lightning show that set hearts pounding. All along, we know and see it all as the harbinger of the harvest season and the dazzling sunshine of the Onam season. I still remember the thunderous rain right when schools opened after the long summer vacation. And also when it stopped right before harvest season, in time for the  Onam vacation. The shining sun, smiling faces, smiling flowers, hovering dragonflies. Because the water that came up usually will drain away too. But this time, things were different, in fact, we are still in the early stages of the aftermath. This is the beginning of a major recovery effort , of an enormous rebuilding. For those who do not know, this becomes a massive undertaking because of the sheer number of people in that small piece of land. Albeit, a blessed land.

At first, it was disbelief that this could happen, that the rain was not going to stop, that the rain was so heavy and powerful that some described it as hissing and foaming. Even when the flooding started and even after warnings, there were people who stayed put in their homes assuming that it would get no higher. When two storey buildings started vanishing under water, of course people were convinced. The totally unprepared state rose to the occasion. The vast rescue and relief projects started with a few hiccups but gained momentum soon enough thanks to a great big hearted group that included fishermen, movie stars, politicians, the state Police, firemen, Electricity board, civil service officers, medics, lawyers, teachers, schools, colleges, businessmen, and a willing and able tech-savvy, social media active group of youngsters. Afar, in countries like the US, young people mobilized donations for their stricken homeland. Within a handful of days, they were able to garner the support of other NRI s who were yearning to pitch in. Hopefully, the older generation sat up and noticed how the much mocked “progress” and social media aided in this massive undertaking. They saw how the till then carefree youth jumped into the fray to help their fellow men and women with open hearts and willing hands. How differences in religion or caste or class was overlooked by everyone as much as how Mother Nature did the same! Those news items about disaster that changed lives in one sweep that we had previously taken in our strides, of which were aware but in which we were not involved at all, became the reality for all of us. The superficial sympathy became empathy.

And while all this is going on, of course I hear other stories, other sides to the story. How indiscriminate development, quarrying and mining in the Western Ghats, that natural protective fortress of ours, and in other areas, has led to these, especially the mudslides and landslides. How the rabid grabbing of farmlands, rice fields and even forest land for building homes and resorts have led to this. And how the lack of planning on the part of the government with regards to the amount of rainfall , the duration of the same, and the lack of calculation as to the amount  of  water that needed to be released from the dams at a certain time etc etc. Most of which makes sense, and the one about the rainfall and the dam needs to be looked into a little more, when we have the time.

I saw doubting folks with regard to the funds collected by well-meaning youth. People do not take the time to read, to listen, to take it in. I am always amazed when we show no hesitation in blaming someone without taking the time to know the facts. I heard and saw again how politicians used religion as their weapon to demoralize and segregate groups of people. Thus there are those who say that it is because we eat beef that this happened. Don’t know if anyone said that it is because we drink wine too. Again, these same people who say this do not mind living in such places and making money there. I had heard that some divisive  unIndian, unKeralite groups have been creating trouble in ours state, a little before this disaster.  Citing history and ownership of lands etc. Are they forgetting all the gains they reaped out of these other religions? Malayalis have always been tolerant and understanding . Unlike in the North, we have always been friendly with our fellow Malayalis, no matter what their religion is. We do not learn biased history in our schools. We do not need your hatred, greed, ignorance and divisive rhetoric in our land.

Meanwhile the rain stopped. And now the next important phase is here. Recovery, rebuilding. I hope and pray that we do not take this chance lightly and throw it away for immediate gains. Plan, listen to the experts, environmental especially. Take the time to do it well. For instance, please refrain from throwing that garbage the river brought back to us, back in the river! Protect our land for future generations, for us, so that disasters like this do not happen again. And if Nature does act up again, for some things are beyond our control, let us be better prepared. Effective storm water management has to be a priority. I see and admire the watershed drainage improvement projects in this town where I live now. It is amazing how beautiful and pleasing such projects can look. Rain gardens, water detention basins, storm sewer pipes along with erosion control with vegetation covers, rock ditches and so on become part of that.

Progress is here to stay, and it would be good if we could do it sensibly. For those who live in big cities with all their amenities, cities that were built on one such “natural” part of earth, you can’t expect these bucolic places to stay bucolic with no modern conveniences. Striking the right balance between preservation and progress is the key, obviously. So many options, resources, so much expertise, examples from all over the world, including the Dutch hydraulic project. A little caution, a little less corruption, a little  goodwill, and patience, we could do so much!

Now, in relation to the flooding, is  another glaring lack in our State. The lack of an efficient garbage disposal system, as many have pointed out. Pickup, disposal, recycling garbage is as important as a good sewer system. New guidelines are needed in the construction of homes. Our ancient vaasthu  shasthra was made and evolved for our climes but we have to take it further than just good luck and/or good life for us, but to our fellow human beings too. For the good of those who live around us, for those who come after us. One simple instance – the ubiquitous tiling of  yards. Very convenient, clean and comfortable, but do it so that the water can seep through, drain off. Permeable material should be used.

Another very important factor that I learned is the need for easy effective water purification systems. When I saw the Aqua tabs, which are pills that you can just drop in the water, cost more than double on amazon India, I wished we made our own. I am sure someone will think of the advantages of having fire drills and flood drills. I hear of talks about flood line mapping, digitalizing documents, calls for an international conference as to how to go forward from here. All sounds great. I know there are already small groups and organizations that work towards these goals. Let them into the mainstream. Garner the power of our youth, our students, our reasearchers, our universities, technoparks, and colleges. Encourage and support them to discover and invent new and better ways to do things, to live well , live healthy and smart in our own land. I know we can make things happen in spite of the red tape, the corruption, the political or gender intrigues. I remember the time when we brought a water tank to our university hostel a long time ago. That is another story again.

In spite of having so much water around us, we are not using it.I am more aware of missed opportunities in that area. My parents’ generation, especially those who grew up in the countryside, learned how to swim. But with the advent of towns and a few other elements, which believe and perpetuate the idea that all are equal, but some are more equal,  of which I have written elsewhere profusely, ours is not a water culture anymore. We don’t swim, we don’t fish, we don’t lie on the beach counting the stars. In fact we don’t dare to play.

Finally, A word to the wise – believe in your gods/God. But do not push him or her down others’ throats thinking yours is the only one way to Heaven. Do not fall for anyone who preaches anything in the name of their particular god or religion. Here is an idea -- why don't we make fun of , find fault with our own religion? Don't do that to another's religion. Because in many things, it is when someone else say bad things about something or someone we care about, that we get mad. Like a mother or father with her child. She or he can scold him as much as they like, but beware if someone else does it! Same with cultures. So I think we should make a pact about religions too.There was a time, not that long ago, when we could laugh at our religions. Joke about our gods. Now everyone seem to be taking it all so dead seriously! Guys and gals, tone it down! We all die, no matter what. Be kind to one another, as much as you can. We are on this earth together. We the people and also we and our gods. They are here because we are here. And vice versa. Now if that is blasphemy, just stop and think about it. Don't get mad.  We have heard it all said a million times, I know. But now a days apparently people find it hard to distinguish between faith and fanaticism. My fellow Malayalis, Indians, may you always use your commonsense! Unite and prosper! And may the sun shine on you, warm and bright!

For more info re other stories mentioned above, please read the fine print.

When I saw the things that the relief camps needed the most , urgently, the realization of the need to bring some changes to our lifestyle hit me,  many of us. We Malayalis or Keralites have always prided ourselves in our ancestry, heritage and above all, tolerance. Tolerance of other cultures, other religions. And our educated leaders and citizens have tried to remedy inequalities on every level. But sometimes we Malayalis tend to look down on customs and ways of living of other cultures. We are tolerant of those people, but if some of us adopt those ways, we are ridiculed or crucified. That is why some of us Malayalis laugh at someone wearing a slip on rubber shoes or a maternity pinafore dress. Progress doesn’t mean talking back or badmouthing something or someone you don’t understand.

They forget that the Marxism that brought about many changes to Kerala society is Western. Anyway, what I wanted to point out is not that highbrow or noble. I am talking of just plain old rain boots. Wish we Malayalis used those, had access to those. We are the ones who need those boots the most,with our yearly monsoon rains. Not our usual hawai chappal. These boots protect our feet from all sorts of things. Same with work boots that both men and women should use. I see women laborers now wearing shirts and lungees as opposed to the earlier more exposed mundu and blouse. Long trousers or pajama pants will be better of course along with boots. Same with gloves, and masks. And utensils  to eat with- spoons and/or forks, instead of fingers and hands. I know I will be booed for this. And in the grand scheme of things, these are not important or necessary. We all live, we all die! But while we live, we could live well. Quality of life is an important matter. Using spoons, of course clean ones, means less chance of germs. We did have those old bio-degradable spoons made of jack fruit tree leaves  and banana leaf dinner plates long before the West touted green living. Again, ignorance and lack of exposure to other ways of living tends to make people embarrassed to change, to take up new ways of doing things. Same with the use of diapers. The convenience, the hygiene. Do not take worm infestation in children and adults as a given! As natural! You don’t have to live with it. It has its bad effects on your health, and since it usually affects children, it  Most of us have learned the merits of modern latrines as opposed to outdoor defecation. Which wasn’t the case a few years back. I remember one scene in an old movie, Eeenadu, I believe, which shows this. But again, washing one’s hands with soap and water after using the toilet is still an unknown to many. Education in the use of toilets is needed too. This flood saw many clever uses of the new technologies to disseminate information. Let us not stop there. Use similar platforms to teach, to inform the public about basic cleanliness. I know we take great pride in our baths and our oil massages and daily rituals.  But obviously that is not enough.

Above all, we need to have a better knowledge and understanding of cleanliness in public areas. Lack of  clean public restrooms, especially for women, is another sore point in our sublime culture.

Yet another of our sides: 

Read my essays How dare they be naked under their underwear! How green wasmy valley

Still a ways to go in regard to women, but that is another story. That is why I wasn’t surprised to hear about that issue with the one guy mocking the need for sanitary napkins for women at the camps. That equating of sanitary napkins with condoms, sadly, is expected -- the result of over-sexualizing, romanticizing, vulgarizing menstruation.  Along with other traditional, Victorian perspectives and institutions, such as the arranged marriage,  which is the weave and warp of our tradition, our culture, all of which works well towards  its main goal -- putting women in their place and/or relegating the marginal to the periphery. But then that is just one guy, and I hear that he got fired from his job. Ignorance and that need to make a joke in awkward moments are other reasons, of course. Which is to be pitied, and remedied through, along with that other affliction that involves peeping and groping.