Archive for February, 2010
Time For The Next Poll
Author: utbt23 Feb 2010
This survey is closed. I will sort through the answers and will get back to you all with the results. Once again thanks for making the time to do this. (updated Feb28th, Sunday)
This is sparked by the home language discussion and second language learning that is currently buzzing around the blog-o-sphere.
*There are 9 questions.
* If you have any additional information that you would like to share, please use the comments section or send me an email at utbtkids@gmail.com
* You can choose to be anonymous while participating in the poll.
* Poll will be open till Feb 28th, Sunday, 9.00PM.
Poll results here.
Beasts Of India
Author: utbt17 Feb 2010
Edited to add: Submitted post for Shruti’s Artsy-Craftsy June 2001 Folk art challenge.
To play Feb’s “Guess the book” see the side bar.
FOLK ART.
The very first time I heard this term was in 2003. I was experimenting with various mediums. I took my Tanjore painting of Krishna and Balram to my oil painting class, people were impressed by the richness and details. That’s when some one popped the question, “Is this folk art? Some thing typical of India?”. Though I had no clue about the exact definition of folk art, some thing prevented me from saying yes. I thought hard and answered, “Well, it is more like traditional art, practiced in the southern part India.” Though I had answered the question, I had no idea about the difference between folk art and traditional art and why I chose the later term to describe my painting. But something was planted in my mind regarding the different art forms of Indian art. Ever since, people who have know me would have heard me say, “I am looking for books on Indian art that are intrinsically India.”
For the past couple of months I have been looking at Tara’s website, which by the way is my new pass time, and I must say that I am mesmerized. All their books have a unique theme and the vibrant book covers tempted me to hit the ‘Add To Cart’ button. It was at this point I happened to clean one of book storage bins and I almost squealed in delight. There, it was lying at the bottom of the bin was Tara’s BEASTS OF INDIA! I must have bought it in my recent India trip and must have completely forgotten about it or the book fairy must have paid me a visit. (In case if it is the book fairy, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, thanks for this book and all that, but you really must look at the complete list. I so want to own DO! Also by Tara.)
The book has been reviewed for Saffron Tree. Find the review here.
How can we let this inspiration pass. So we combined it with the festive atmosphere of the Lunar New Year and Satish’s review of Everyone Knows What A Dragon Looks Like and we made our own paper dragons.
First what we talked about how every one imagined their dragons. Prominent features like big eyes, horns, bushy eye brows, sharp teeth, fire were thrown out. We all unanimously agreed that the dragon is scary and the color red must feature in the dragon.
We picked one style that inspired us to create our dragon. Chula wanted to combine Patachitra and Gond. The little one started with Madhubani and soon changed her mind. I was deeply attracted to Gond the minute I set my eyes on one. So I stayed with Gond till the end.
The hand with its fingers spread out can be a starter for many art forms. For the most part it eliminates the, “I can’t do it like you amma, can you do it for me?”. We traced our hands, leaving out the the thumb. We converted the index finger and the pinkie in to ears. The other two fingers became the horns.
It took me a good two hours to finish my dragon and I must say that it was deeply therapeutic. The little ones lost interest after the first fifteen minutes and they moved away. But they saw how much I was enjoying myself and came back to ‘help’. For the last 45 minutes they sat next to me, one holding the pens and one making sure that I did not miss the pattern. The critique from the little ones, “Well, he kind of looks friendly amma. Not scary at all. May be he is a she.” I did start out with the mental picture of the Yali, but the end result was very different.
I know that the books touched the girls because when I stepped out I saw that they had created out of side walk chalk a Warli inspired cow 
With that I leave you with some pictures.
Dragon inspired by Beasts of India
The Three Dragons
Guess The Book
Author: utbt16 Feb 2010
See I simply cannot resist
Email, comment by Friday, 4.00AM PST.
And the clue is……
GuessBookFeb2010
Updated to add:
The answer is: THE GREAT INDIAN NOVEL by SHASHI THAROOR
The Print Lover nailed it. She says “Vyasa + Pillaiyar = Mahabaratha Twitter bird -> Shashi Tharoor?” And exactimo!
I have read Mahabaratha by many different authors and that was instrumental in me picking up this book. It took me a few pages to understand the allegory, but I was proud and pleased as plum that I did it all by myself without running to Wikipedia. Though I had to take a break from it I found it compelling enough to return to it. So far a good read.
Fried Love
Author: utbt8 Feb 2010
When I got married, I did not know how to make hot water. So things like muruku and idiyappam were quite intimidating. I was almost thankful that my mom did not buy me a murukku nazhi (murukku/idiyappam press) as a part of kitchen stuff I carried from India to US. “First become an expert in sambar/rasam and idlis before you venture in to complicated stuff” she said and I thought that it made sense. I still remember the initial idli days when YadaaYadaa and I used to grind the batter together, mostly because we were afraid to do it alone. After numerous rock idlis, doasas that refused to leave the ladle, India map chapathis, we kind of settled in to a generic formula. Soon I was feeling brave to venture in to uncharted territories – medhu vadai, masal vadai, adai, paruppu urndai kuzhambu, usili, modhagam, pidi kozhukattai and the likes of such followed. But I never attempted anything that would require special cooking tools.
After a nearly a year of marriage, I decided to try idiyappam at home. But the problem was the nazhi, I did not have one. So I bought one during my next trip to India. It was a regular aluminum mold, T-shaped, the kind that needs to be pressed on both sides. The handle was so hard that I had to wear mittens to protect my hands. I started experimenting with idiyappam. One day the idiyappam dough was so hard that I had to ask R for help. We both grabbed one side of the press each and applied our full strength to the press. Result, a broken nazhi. Relatives in India were horrified that the dough was so hard that the nazhi broke
I decided that I am not waiting for the next India trip and purchased from the local Indian stores, the kind that has a rotary handle, for $14.99. Relatives in India were aghast, by the price of the press or by my resolve to keep at idiyappams, I don’t know. I have to say that this press served me rather well. Only three plates came with the press – a single star, a single thin rectangle and multiple fat circles. I made chunky idiyappams, but the taste was all right. Deepawali came and I made murukkus too and was quite happy with the results.
After 5 or so years, R was getting tired of the star murukkus. He really likes the smooth ones. But for some odd reason I never found a nazhi that had the right sized circle holes. It has been 11 years and that is when this came in to our lives.
This nazhi belonged to my MIL. It is almost 75+ years old, made of finest quality Burma rose wood, heavy but smooth from all those years of use. The nazhi used to belong to my MIL’s MIL. Apparently my great MIL’s senior daughters-in-law had dibs on this nazhi and my MIL, the youngest of the daughters-in-law got it, to the heavy dissatisfaction of the other DsIL, I must add This nazhi has accompanied my MIL in all her trips to the US. The nazhi and her tattered 50 year old recipe book would definitely be in the top ten things she packs in her suitcase. She has put it to good use all these years I must say. Every time she visited us, my MIL made sure that there was an unending supply of fried goodies for R to munch. She would skip her mid-day siesta and churn out murukku, ribbon or omapodi. This was a regimen she strictly followed every ten days. It was purely her way of telling her grown up son, that she loved him fiercely. Tad too fierce, but hey that’s purely me 
Now the nazhi has been passed to me. At first, the impact was minimal. But last Saturday as I was making murukkus, both the mullu murukku and the smooth ones, it finally sank in to me. For my MIL to give up something that she has had for most of her life…..I don’t know….. I felt very emotional about the whole thing. Some things have the power to stir up powerful emotions in a person and the nazhi most definitely did it for me.
‘Tis A Gift To Be Simple
Author: utbt3 Feb 2010
So here is the song in the girls’ voice.
I Am Not Sharing My Appalam
Author: utbt1 Feb 2010
Out of the blue, the old Shaker song Chula and Mieja sing in the school during circle time comes in to my head.
‘Tis the gift to be simple,
’tis the gift to be free,
’tis the gift to come down to
where we ought to be,
and when we find ourselves in the place just right,
’twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gained
to bow and to bend we shan’t be ashamed,
to turn, turn, will be our delight
till by turning, turning we come round right.
It IS a gift to be simple huh?! So coming down to where we are meant to be is a gift too? How absolutely right that it has to happen at the right time!?! Otherwise we wouldn’t have the capacity to recognize this gift. But how do we differentiate between coming down to a simpler level and lowering our aspirations and generally aiming for much lower than our capacity? In terms of life style, I understand the simpler we get, the harder it is at first. In today’s world simple is complicated. But in terms of aspirations, can doing our best and living a simple life co-exist? Are they mutually exclusive? At times is ‘simple’ an euphemism for ‘lazy’? By asking for both am I asking for too much? Or, just like lifestyle choices, simple aspirations are the most complicated? Are opposites the same?
In Eat, Pray, Love Elizabeth Gilbert talks about this balance. Wait a minute, I have read about something along these lines in the Swami Nithyananda newsletter. I have to put these down some where, but I realize that I am in the shower. So I quickly jot down hurried notes in the glass shower door that is misted with the vapor. Now the challenge is to get out and record the thought in something more definitive like a paper/voice memo in my phone or even better on the computer. The vapor notes are already beginning to streak with water.
But even before I open the bathroom door, Chula and Mieja come rolling in to the bathroom. Yes, they are rolling, fighting about something. Everything in my mind goes blank, there is a shift of priorities, I disentangle the children, help them resolve the conflict, realize that I have ten more minutes to get ready and leave home for work. Then it is run, run, run all day long and by 2.00PM there is some down time and I realize that the idea on the shower door has long vaporized.
It is not just one instance. For the past six years, everything, I realize, is a series of broken thoughts, interrupted processes. I have been on my feet constantly, improvising, abandoning one thing to pick up something that escalates, compromising, and postponing.
I am a visual person. The one thing that helps me is to see or to visualize with elaborate mental images. To remember numbers, I used to close my eyes and visualize myself writing the number on a paper and in the process come up with a code or a clue that will etch the number in my memory for E.V.E.R. Now I hear things and even before it reaches the brain I turn to catch the next thing and it is gone. My brain is like a sieve. I have become absolutely incapable of holding numbers.
When the uplink is happening, when the connection between the synapses is in process, to be jerked away from it and to be posed with something absolutely new that has to be dealt with….. Sometimes I can almost feel the pain from the synaptic connection that is ripped.
I badly needed time for myself and hence came up with the whole 4.00AM getting up thingy. For a while it was peaceful. At times, I would have nothing to do. I would sit with my steaming cup of ginger chai, with my devotional songs mp3 in the background and stare out through the dark window. There is nothing like hearing MS’s voice at 4.00AM. There is something deeply spiritual at that time of the day and in that voice. It was absolutely refreshing. Then one kid realized that I get up early and if they get up at more or less the same time, they can get my attention. So one started getting up to cuddle with me. Then slowly both started getting up at 4.00AM. I realize that they grow up and pretty soon they may not need me on this level. But, come on kids, be reasonable.
I truly believe that every object has a place. Even in the house, everything has a place. I wouldn’t say that everything is 100% organized, but for example, washed clothes go on in to the guest bedroom and wait to be folded. Even if it takes a while to be folded, even if it is in a pile for a week, that pile has to stay in a certain place. There is a place for newspaper. There is a place for mail. The mail mixes with the newspaper or if it is lying in the middle of the house, I just cannot think. I cannot take misplaced clutter. Oxymoronic huh? But, hey, that is me. Now, I have clutter in my brain and I don’t have time to organize the clutter. I can almost feel the corrosive clutter sitting in my head ever so slowly eroding my brain.
So with this in mind, I am trying to do some changes at home.
When kid 1 or kid 2 comes to me with another end of the world problem, I ask them if it is something they can solve by themselves. And the answer I get is always NO, no exceptions So, unless there is physical pain, I give them a choice, ‘You can either think and try solving it or wait till I am done with whatever I am doing.’ Works sometimes.
I also ask them, considering that it is going to take me a while to get to them, if they can think of another adult who can help them. I have stopped the blunt, ‘Go ask appa’ kind of blunt redirection. Because the kid1/kid2 when she approaches me, has already made a visual image of me helping her. (Apple does not fall far from the tree. Arrrrh.) So if I abruptly rewrite it, it leads to more drama. So I have to let her think and let her rewrite her own visual.
If I am starting something that needs to be done in one shot, no matter how trivial it is like transferring idli batter from grinder to vessel (The husband begs to differ. Under no circumstances he refuses to think of idli batter as trivial), I give them advance warning. I tell the kids that I am doing something and that I do not want to be pulled away from it till I am done. So they better behave themselves and not kill each other in that five minutes I am occupied.
Blackmail works wonders. I tell them, if there is a problem/conflict, then it means that they need to think about ways to solve/resolve it. Then I look straight at them and say, “This is what your teachers tell you in the peace lessons right? Can I call R/J and ask her how she feels about it?” They just scram when I mention teachers.
Thanks to a friend, I tried some empathy lessons last weekend. It was hilarious and I enjoyed doing it. Chula was sitting and watching her usual weekend end quota of TV. I sat next to her and pestered her to cuddle with me, get me some water from the kitchen, asked her if she can play with me, fell on her and in the process hiding the TV from the line of sight, every three seconds I whined ‘Are you done?’, when she will be done watching ‘her TV ‘ and if it is time for ‘my TV’ and demanded attention. She was just about to throw up her hands up in the air in frustration and I told her this is E.X.A.C.T.L.Y how I feel. Will work with Chula, but Mieja would probably think that this is how things are done, so I can’t do this with her.
Last but not the least, sharing. I am sick of being passed half eaten fruit, children usurping interesting food from my plate, once tasted and rejected cookies, cold soggy dosas, lukewarm idlis, left over cake with cream licked off, deflated pooris and the likes of it. Last Sun we were eating in a restaurant and I swatted hands away from the appalam that came with my thali lunch. I AM NOT SHARING MY APPALAM ANY MORE. So, deal with it kids.
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