Unanimously described as the ‘Queen of Hills’ Darjeeling is unique in its versatility. For the tourists, fresh from the sights of other lands, Darjeeling comes not only as a delightful surprise but as a veritable relief from the hot and sultry weather of the plains. From the surroundings of this unrivalled mountainous town which stands at an average height of 7,000 feet above sea level, one sees the breath-taking beauty of the snow covered peaks, the tips of which seem too silvery to be real, a dappled effect indeed of vivid white and patches of grey.

Darjeeling is at once, both old and new. The cosmopolitan town itself has come a long way since its modest beginnings in 1835. The new includes modern amenities, first class hotels, comprehensive shopping centers; some of India’s most famous boarding-schools, cinema halls and the world’s most sought trekking trails. Yet a few miles of the town one comes into contact with age-old customs and ways of living – hand plowed terraced hill side fields, surrounded by gaily painted huts, hollowed out bamboo pipes for carrying water and villagers still utterly unspoilt by the rush and materialism of the Twenty First Century.

A Brief History

The name ‘Darjeeling’ came from the Tibetan words, “dorje” meaning thunderbolt (originally the scepter of Indra) and “ling” a place or land - Hence, ‘the land of the thunderbolt’. This name could also have been inherited from a Buddhist Monastery of the same name once situated on the top of the Observatory Hill.

The town which originally consisted of a few mud huts surrounding the monastery on Observatory Hill was officially inaugurated by Captain Lloyd and Dr. Chapman. In 1839, the station was handed over to Dr. Campbell who was its first Superintendent. At this time there was not more than 20 families in the district of Darjeeling, and the further building up of Darjeeling, both physically and industrially was due almost entirely to Dr. Campbell’s twenty two years of untiring labour.

From a collection of a few mud-huts it has today grown up to be one of India’s premier hill stations, visited by tourists from distant corners of India and all over the world.

The District of Darjeeling

The District of Darjeeling has an approximate area of 12,000 sq miles with a population of 1,605,900 (2001 census). According to the census, 67 per cent of the population still lives in rural areas. The density of population is about 510 persons per square kilometer and the sex ratio is 940 females to 1000 males. The literacy rate is of 81.28% among males and 63.92% among females. Hindus and Buddhists form the majority in terms of religious groups and Muslims and Christians are relatively fewer in numbers.

The district extends from the marshy and tropical Terai, at an average height of 300 feet above sea level, to the cool heights of the Sandakphu Phalut ridge, about 12,000 feet above sea level. It borders on Sikkim to the North, Bhutan to the East and Nepal to the West. It includes the two other Hill resorts of Kurseong and Kalimpong, 4,864 and 4,100 feet above sea level respectively.

The People of Darjeeling

The original inhabitants of the Darjeeling Hills were Lepchas or Rongpa (the ravine folks) as they prefer themselves to be known as. Though their origin is obscure they are decidedly Mongolian in feature.

The greater bulk of the people in the Hills are Gorkhas. They are industrious and enterprising as a race and speak as many as seven different dialects - Gorkhali or Indian Nepali being the predominantly spoken language. Among the population are also the Sherpas originally from Solo Khumbu and Namche Bazaar. They are well known for their courage, stamina and surefootedness and for their immeasurable contributions to Mountaineering. Tenzing Norgay Sherpa the international hero who conquered Mount Everest along with Sir Edmund Hillary lived and died in Darjeeling. Also much in evidence in the Hills are the Bhutias, Bengalese, Marwaris, Biharis, Sindhis and Punjabis. The people from all these communities give Darjeeling a Cosmopolitan character.

All the hill people are merry and good hearted, well known for their hospitality. Singing and dancing are an integral part of their social and religious life. They have an avid and ingrained thirst for knowledge. Despite modern education and many western influences they are yet really at heart the simple and unspoilt children of nature.

Religion

Darjeeling enjoys a harmonious blending of Hinduism and Buddhism as the town is practically dotted with Hindu temples and Buddhist Monasteries. A close knit community of Christians, Sikhs and Muslims also exists all living in peaceful harmony.

Languages

English, Bengali, Hindi, Nepali and Tibetan are spoken among the different communities - English and Bengali being understood by majority of the people including the guides and hotel attendants.

Climate and Tourist Season

Darjeeling has four seasons – Spring, Monsoon, Autumn and Winter.

After a short and cold winter, spring comes gracefully in as a blessing. Gentle mists occasionally mingled with light rain take the place of the heavy winter fog. The sky though never completely clear of clouds is still clear enough to give a succession of cool calm days. It is during these months – April to June – that Darjeeling enjoys the first tourist season. The whole town is ablaze with colour; in every garden small or big, there is a profusion of flowers – Rhododendron, Magnolia, Gladioli, Tiger Lillies, Hydrangeas, Sweet Peas, Corn flowers, Roses and Dahlias, all combine to deck Darjeeling out as the real “Queen”. This is the time of the year, too, when the various mountaineering expeditions set out, on the trail of high adventure.

The monsoon starts from late June and is usually over by the end of August. About 100 inches, or more, of rain falls during these months, the heaviest rain-fall usually during July. With the end of the monsoon by the end of August, Autumn starts creeping in from September. Darjeeling’s second tourist season is during these Autumn months of September, October and Mid-November. The weather at this time of the year is Darjeeling’s best. Cool languid days with hardly a cloud in a sky of clear and uninterrupted blue; near by slopes, a luxuriant green with blue hills shimmering across the valley and the mighty Kanchanjunga Range stands as a majestic background towering over every thing. Vistas of unrivalled beauty are presented to the visitors. Carnivals, Dog Shows, Dramatic Performances, Music Concerts, and Cultural Fiestas, all combine to make these the ‘magic months’ for Darjeeling.

Nor must the great Hindu Festivals, which are observed at this time of the year, be forgotten. The Temples and Bazaar present a vast seething mass of brightly shifting colours. Joyous and carefree crowds convert Darjeeling into one big Carnival. To climax the season and the Pujas come the Hindu Festival of Diwali (the Festival of Lights). Popularly known as Tihar, Darjeeling has a unique way of celebrating the festival. Much before the sun sets, the youths gather around in their traditional costumes and armed with musical instruments venture from door to door all over the hills singing songs and dancing. Every house and business establishment is enchantingly outlined in the velvety black night, by the flickering oil lamps. Many of the shops are gaily decorated and Indian sweetmeats are, as is the custom, lavishly distributed to all those visiting the shops. A visit to Darjeeling during the Puja Season is undoubtedly an experience of a life time.

For visitors who are not averse to cold and who want a quiet holiday, Darjeeling in the winter is an ideal spot. The mercury drops as low as 1ºC, while heavy fog frequently envelops the town. Towards the end of December there are occasional rain-storms, while snow often falls presenting the traditional ‘White Christmas’.

Traveling up to Darjeeling

Darjeeling is easily accessible from any part of India by Air, Rail or Road -The Railway station at New Jalpaiguri and the Airport at Bagdogra being the links to the outside world. There are numerous flights operated by different airways and the services are also carefully timed to offer convenient connections to all important cities of the nation.

For visitors who have more time to spare, Darjeeling has excellent rail connections. There are routes to practically every part of the nation. Once the visitor disembarks upon New Jalpaiguri he or she could either seek to make the uphill journey by taxi or the world famous and the now UNESCO World Heritage Darjeeling Himalayan Railway. Many holiday makers do prefer taxis or buses which get up to Darjeeling in almost 3 ½ hours but to those who are visiting Darjeeling for the first time traveling by the ‘Toy Train’ as it is affectionately known as, is not just pleasantly interesting but indeed the ride of a life time.

The ‘Toy Train’ on this section winds its way up gradually. Starting from a mere 300 feet above sea level, it ascends to a height of 7,400 feet at Ghoom Station and then descends to 6,812 feet at Darjeeling by a series of hair-pin curves, loops and zig-zags. This railway system owes its inception to Sir Ashley Eden and Mr. Franklin Prestage and is considered to be one of the greatest engineering feats of its kind in the world.

The journey from Siliguri to Darjeeling provides panoramic views and occasionally at bends, one sees the vast fertile plains of Bengal stretching far into the horizon, with rivers, like silver ribbons, meandering lazily over it. Huge trees, giants of the forest, choked by strangulating creepers; gigantic boulders, reminders of past land-slides; cascading water falls roaring from the hill sides, hills slopes given over to tea bushes all make the uphill trip utterly interesting.

I know you're all DYING to know what's new in the hood. The Piccadilly is almost done. They did say April occupancy so they still have a couple of weeks to go. The scaffolding and fencing is down and the front doors were open. We came back with the camera, but they'd locked the front doors with piece of wood. Don't think they've really thought about how many people will use it as a bus stop or the party animals for drinking in the winter.

The Roses Cafe finally changed hands. The business had been for sale on OREB for a while. It's now called the Diwali. A bit father down the road, Nectar fine teas looks to be almost finished its expansion into the place next door. I think that's taken almost a year. Or maybe it just feels like it.

And the last nugget is the space above the Home Hardware is finally leased. To a fitness place. Sorry, can't read the name in the pic because it was dusk and it is only a phone camera. Some days I'm just not comfortable lugging around the big one. People gossip about me then.

[gallery]

I remember driving down through the enchanted tea gardens of North Tukver and Singla, contemplating deep inside my hollow self whether my mother had survived or not. Every time my mobile rung struggling inside my trouser pocket like an agitated fish, I silently closed my eyes and prayed, “Lord, please protect her, save her.” On the fateful month of January 2007, when the world celebrated a new year, I fought my way through emotions to reach Legshep, to prostrate myself before the Supreme Lord Kirateswara and beg for my mother’s life. My mother herself, in coma for more than a week, at the intensive care unit at Mitra’s Clinic in Siliguri was on the verge of losing her struggle for survivable. It was certainly, the gloomiest day of my life. We lost our direction, had to change tires and ultimately the car itself. I was wrecked but on advice of a friend’s mother some how found strength to carry on. I was heartbroken when I reached the temple but suddenly I felt relieved and at peace. It was as if some one had placed his hand on my shoulder and given me hope. Deep inside I was convinced that nothing would happen to my mother. We performed puja and at the end of the puja and prayers, I received a call from my father saying that Mom was now doing well and that there was nothing to worry about.

My faith in the temple and my reverence of the Lord changed my life for ever so can yours be, after you visit Shree Kirateshwar Shiva Temple (Mandir) at Legshep. In fact, there are many whose lives have changed miraculously and the divine aura of the temple upon the sacred banks of the Rangeet at Legshep grown over the years. Today, it attracts thousands of devotees from all over the world. The hallowed ‘Shiva Linga’ (the revered mark of Lord Shiva), the main idol of the sanctum sanctorum is believed to have originated ages ago lying revealed and concealed by the receding and growing waters of the Rangeet. Once there used to be a cowshed upon the flat of the bank and cattle grazed on the delicious green in the vicinity. The story goes that sometime in 1918 a cowherd had dreamt of the presence of the ‘Linga’ and was guided to revere it to usher in prosperity. The following morning he had searched and located it upon the base of an old ‘Duneri’ tree. Soon the neighbours had collected and prayers had begun. As time went by, news of the holy spot had spread and devotees flocked in to worship. Meanwhile the cattle had flourished and the people had prospered. Later a fair came to be held where people congregated to sing ‘Kirtans’.

Today, each year ‘Balachaturdasi mela’ (a religious fair) a month after ‘Diwali’ (the Hindu festival of lights) and ‘Mahashivaratri Mela’ in February are held thronged by devouts from Nepal, Bhutan and different parts of the country. In 1972 the local temple committee had raised a small temple on the spot which was revamped to the present one in 1984. The temple complex now has a ‘Hom Kund’, a Ram temple, a Devi temple and also a ‘Dharamsala’ where devotees spend a night for free. An escapade from the Mahabharata relates that Arjuna during their years in exile had a duel with Lord Shiva (in the form of a mortal) over the possession of a wild boar which had been struck by both their arrows. The contention had arisen on whose arrow had struck first and who would possess the beast, so the two had wrestled. Soon Arjuna had found that he was no match for this powerful stranger and had begun to wield his matchless skill on the bow. To his utter bewilderment, that too seemed ineffective and so he sought to wield his most powerful weapon, the arrow of his Lord Shiva called the ‘Gandiv Astra’. It was then that it suddenly dawned upon him that the person he was trying to defeat was none other than his very Lord Shiva. Arjuna immediately fell at his Lord’s feet seeking reprieve. It is believed that the spot where the present ‘Linga’ was discovered was the very spot where Arjuna had sat in deep meditation of his Lord Shiva before his famous duel with the Lord. It is also said that offering water from the sacred Khecheopalri Lake to the ‘Linga’ was most auspicious as the lake had been the one where Yudhisthira, the eldest of the Pandavas had revived all his brothers by his wise answers to the divine ‘Yaksha’ of the lake.

The temple had later been renamed the Kirateshwar Shiva Mandir by a visiting sage, Rishi Bhirgu Baba of the Kamakhya temple. Today, as the Hindu month of ‘Shravana’ sets in hundreds of devotees descend from afar to offer water to the ‘Linga’, an arduous journey undertaken each year since the age of the ancient, an act perhaps or a yearning that could somehow make a devout feel closer to this maker, the Lord.

Pero Lakshmi no era ninguna diosa como ellos creían, sino que padecía de isciogapus, un síndrome que la une a un gemelo parásito que no logra desarrollarse. Ésta nació unida por la pelvis junto al cuerpo del que iba a ser su hermano gemelo, que no se desarrolló correctamente. Con el tiempo las espinas dorsales se habían fusionado, había adquirido 4 riñones, los nervios se habían enredado y tenía dos cavidades estomacales y dos cavidades pectorales.

A pesar de que había un riesgo del 20-25% de que muriera durante la operación, un cirujano del Hospital Sparsh decidió llevar a cabo la intervención. La operación, donde no hubo ningún contratiempo, duró más de 40 horas con la colaboración de un total de 36 cirujanos plásticos, pediatras, neurólogos, cardiólogos y personal de cuidados intensivos que, finalmente, lograron separar las dos espinas dorsales, los brazos, las piernas y el resto del "mellizo parasitario".

"Ella resistió la operación, está a salvo y recuperándose satisfactoriamente, la tendremos bajo observación en las próximas 48 a 72 horas, y no nos moveremos del hospital hasta que se estabilice", dijo Sharan Patil.

La operación tuvo el valor de unas 250.000 rupias (unos 4.400 euros), que resultó totalmente gratuita para la familia de Lakshmi ya que su padre, un modesto labrador, no pudo afrontarlo.

Aquí os dejo unos vídeos sobre la pequeña (no están en español, pero bueno, se entiende más o menos por las ilustraciones):

Visto en: Weirdasianews

]]> http://anubhasworld.wordpress.com/2008/04/04/the-flame-2/ Thu, 03 Apr 2008 19:05:32 +0000 Anz http://anubhasworld.wordpress.com/2008/04/04/the-flame-2/

The Flame, originally uploaded by anubhavaid.

Aunque se nos varios meses fuera de Diwali, el sueño de varios comerciantes ya han fijado sus ojos en la festiva semana. De hecho, varias de las películas ya han sido confirmados para la versión en la semana de fiestas de este año. En varias ocasiones la espalda, que le había dicho a usted que Subhash Ghai's YUVRAAJ, Ashtavinayak - Rohit Shetty del GOLMAAL VUELVE Yash Raj y la ROADSIDE ROMEO [una película de animación producida en asociación con Walt Disney] ya han bloqueado la fecha [Octubre 24]. Hay que hablar Karan Johar es también lo que DOSTANA [Abhishek, Priyanka, John] en esta fecha.

Ahora, aquí tiene un caliente de tuberías de desarrollo relacionados con el Diwali semana. Nikhil Advani del CHANDNI CHOWK A CHINA, que marca la incursión de Hollywood gigante Warner Bros películas en hindi, también está confirmado para el Diwali. No el 24 de octubre, pero el 29 de octubre. No un viernes, pero en un miércoles.

La razón está, de personas que estarían ocupados con la fiesta y todos los que visitan unos a otros a través de la festiva semana. La ocupación en movieplexes, por lo tanto, podrían tener un éxito durante algunos días. La empresa no haría si no aumentar una vez que las festividades y ceremonias relacionadas con el festival obtener más. Por lo tanto, en octubre 29 para CHANDNI CHOWK A CHINA.

Adults also let their hair down. Wearing the traditional 'Dhoti-Punjabi', they have to oversee what their kids are doing, as well as keeping an eye about how all else, like the Brahmin's arrival, food arrangements, pandals etc..Women enjoy the Pujas to the hilt, bragging about their brand new 'Saris' and covering themselves with all sorts cosmetics and ornaments imaginable!

During Mahalaya, we worship ma Durga, to urge her to come back to the earth again, with ardent fervor. It precedes the Puja by exactly seven days.

During the Pujas, we give pushpanjali (offering flowerpetals) to the goddesses, in the morning; which is usually accompanied by the enchanting melodies of 'Dhakis'. On the fourth day, we bid a tearful farewell to all the Gods (Kartick and Lord Ganesha) and Goddesses(Ma Durga, Ma Laxmi and Ma Saraswati), and we pray to them to visit us again the next year.

After the immersion of the idol in the Holy Ganges, we exchange greetings with each other, touch our elders' feet or simply embrace ourselves. A custom known as Bijoya Dasami, also known as Dussera, in other parts of India.

Diwali, the festival of lights, follows the Pujas, and its Goddess Kali whom we worship then.

Strictly speaking, all these are mostly Bengali festivals where all sorts of people participate. Like Eid where Hindus take part too, these festivities are also attended by many Muslims. These events remind us of our lonely existence on a small planet in a big big universe. Its the brotherhood of man that counts. And nothing else matters! (couldn't help borrowing this line from Metallica)

उसके पाँव की आहट जैसे बादे-सबा फूलों पर
रूप की सादगी ऐसी जैसे सूफ़ी का तस्व्वुर
रंग बिल्कुल गुले-अंदाम ज़रा-सी बनावट नहीं
लब सुर्ख़ थे ऐसे, जिस तरह गुलाब के पैमाने
ज़ुबाँ नाज़ुक मिज़ाज, वाइज़ो-नासेह की तरह
बदन शीशे जैसा, साफ़-शफ़्फ़ाक़-गुल्फ़ाम
अदा में जुज़ सादगी और कुछ नहीं झलकता था

मालूम नहीं, वह बरस ख़ाब का था कि सच था
उसका वह मेरे घर आना
काँधे से गिरते वह कमर पे दुप्पटे की गाँठ
वह दीपावली के दिए, वह सजावट सब
देखना उसे मेरा एक टुक, सुबहो-शाम, रोज़
वह तूफ़ान जी का, कुछ करके दिखा दें
लिखना तेरा नाम दरो-दर पर, आदतन

आज पाँच बरस हो गये...
I'm still reminiscing about you...

- s a a h i l

In the 1970s,  we would have to visit our music teacher's residence every year on the evening of Dipavali.

It used to bug me to take time off during the busy cracker season, especially the time when the North Indian population of George Town would freak out on lavish displays of fireworks, almost in a competitive spirit.

Come on, which ten year old would want to go to a music class when his entire family was celebrating Dipavali, playing around.

I had to go, and I would.

Our teacher, clad in finery and flowers, would offer a plate that contained a sweet, vadas, cakkarai pongal or a cup of payasam.

There would be a picture of Muttusvami Dikshitar, brought down from where it was hung on the wall and placed on the floor; there would be indications of a puja having been performed to it.

Fellow students would walk in.

Each of us had to perform at least two of the compositions of the master as a tribute to his genius.

Our teacher's daughter, Minakshi, also a teacher in the household would play on the vina; now that was a real treat. There was a particular Dipavali, when I heard her playing 'visvanatena' for the first time. This, in the midst of the 10000 wallah electric crackers going on in the neighborhood.

'Eswar, tell me what raga this is'?, she asked after playing the kriti.

I had never heard it before. I was 10 years old then.

'It sounds like tilang, but it seems to have a ri', I blurted out.

'It is called samanta', she said.

'Oho', I said.

I dont remember what I sang that year; but Mina's rendition of Visvanatena is permanently etched in my mind.

I think of it every year on the day of Dipavali.

An experiment I tried resulted in an innovative sweet dish for Diwali. This one clearly satisfies my sweet tooth or rather all 32 sweet teeth :D . Click to view the complete recipe.

The fear of the Tyrant was such that Lakhi Shah set fire to his hut with Guru Tegh Bahadur's mortal remains in it to cremate him. It is this Guru's noble deed for another's right to freedom of conviction and conscience that we honor as we bow when we light the diya on Diwali - for without these deeds there may never have been another Diwali. We bow humbled by the sacrifice of Guru Tegh Bahadur and the Sikhs who gave up their lives.

A thousand miles south in dusty plains along the Cauvery river, the Rig Veda chants echoed through the Patashala. Different mandalams chanted the vedas using their vikratis - (techniques that rival modern forward error correction algorithms in communication theory) ensuring the purity of the oral renditions. In the nearby Agraharam they led a monastic life and lived on alms. They had given up materialism long ago and had devoted their lives to the chanting of the Vedas and passing it on from generation to generation. For over two thousand years they had lived under the protection of mighty Dravidian kingdoms and later on the powerful Marathas. For a brief few decades when this protection waned, entire Agraharams were massacred. At the Melkote Agraharam one Diwali night, men were lined up to face the women and decapitated as the women wept - their oral tradition extinguished - by savagery on behalf of a faith founded by a man from a distant land. When we light the diya with a bowed head - we bow to the sacrifice and perseverance of these scholars, we bow in remembrance of the lives lost by the Marathas and the Rajputs in protecting our ancient culture, we bow to the strength of our ancestors in holding on to this ancient Dharmic way of life amidst adversity and faced with tyranny.

Our ancient kingdoms were not lost to foreign invaders because they were weak in military. They were lost to invaders who used our Dharmasastra as a weakness. It is said that in ancient Indian battles between Hindu kingdoms, women and children were never hurt and commoners never attacked. Nor were homes and temples touched. Battles were conducted on battlefields and at the end of each day of battle it was not uncommon for opponents to meet. Chivalry was expected and was the rule. Dharmasastra reigned for thousands of years - even in the lands ruled by the Vangas and the Cholas away from the shores of Bharat. Savage invaders took advantage of these practices. Yet they did not last long.

In the recent past, Mahatma Gandhi upheld Dharma when under duress from friends and enemies; he treated the British with respect - lent a helping hand to them in World War II - even though he could have taken advantage of their plight. Gandhi upheld Dharma when he fought to allow people of all faith to remain in India at inception. When we bow to light the diya - we bow to all that upheld Dharma and we renew our compact to uphold it as we light the flame.

Our history refers to Ramayana and in that Lord Rama's return to Ayodhya with Sita from his exile. As he returned home after rescuing Sita to claim his throne, people placed lit lamps outside, to acknowledge his unwavering faith in Dharma amidst adversity, to honor him with a lit pathway to his home. That was the beginning of this practice.

As we bow to light the diya, in this year 5109 of Kaliyuga, we bow in remembrance of all those sacrificed to preserve this ancient way of life and we light the lamp to symbolize the dispelling of the darkness by the rays of light, to give us the strength to uphold our commitment to Dharma.

This year it was stolen from her in the most cruel fashion and so was her smile and joy. It was stolen by a vain old man. Someone, who only cared about himself and of course used the little power he had to settle a few grudges even if that meant hurting a little girl. This vain old man ensured that she did not get to have fun on stage in the annual India Association Diwali performance. This vain old man ensured that the song that she practiced for hours on the piano was not played and instead forced her to learn a new song a day before the performance - a tall order for 8 year old (she was still 8 years at that time). He had "judged " it to be not upto some unknown unspecified standard. This vain old man had done the same thing two years ago, and last year her parents planned a trip around Diwali to prevent a repeat of that. This year, their parents thought, it will be better. Alas, it was not to be. It got worse.

This little girl sat through two and a half hours of dancing , singing and acting, where all her friends danced on stage, sang on stage, while she sat alone, except for the 55 seconds she spent on stage playing a song she had just learn't the day before. She could not understand why - yet she ploughed on - even though the piano stand did not hold - she held it with her knees in an awkward position and did not miss a note. She could not understand why the vain old man spent more than an hour on stage dancing, singing and generally making a spectacle of himself - he spent ten times more time in his silent pauses, than she did on stage. This Vain Old Man had more costume changes than Madonna in a Material Girl concert, while the little girl silently watched. But she, as the British would put it, held on with stiff upper lip. But this was not to be.

In subsequent social gatherings where adults and children danced, she now felt out-of-place. The little girls who had performed on stage -repeated their acts- of course, she was not part of it and felt the sting of humiliation. She turned away hoping that not looking will help ease her humiliation- yet her lips were quivering, hands trembling and as I hugged her she broke into convulsions - the anguish was unbearable for this little thing. The disaster that was Diwali was now revisited at every social gathering. The Vain Old Man with a grudge had succeeded beyond his dreams - while at these gatherings he continued to dance on stage (where else). The Little Girl is now scared of Diwali. She stands by herself , trembling and crying - the Diwali event replayed for her live each time. She is no longer comfortable with folks who look like her - she has lost more than Diwali - she has lost her sense of belonging.

This Vain Old Man, whose ancestors long ago forsake Sanathana Dharma for the teachings of a man born in the Arabian Peninsula, who judges little children on Diwali, never let anyone judge his children. This Vain Old Man, never had to worry if his children will ever get to perform on stage, makes sure that other parents and their children go through anxious moments on a day that should be joyous. This Vain Old Man, whose children, never had to memorize a new song or lines at the last minute, made sure my little girl went through a terrible anxiety ridden day prior to Diwali. This Vain Old Man, a physician by profession, fifty six years old, who I am sure has taken a psychology course or two and studied Maslow's hierarchy as well, met his self-esteem needs by being on stage for more than an hour performing multiple acts of singing, dancing and acting (if you could call that), at the expense of time allocated to children. This Vain Old Man has destroyed the meaning, objective and values behind India Association.

Dalip Singh Saund founded the first India Association to fight for the naturalization rights of people of Indian origin and won. The first India Association began with a mission to fight for and protect the rights of the people from India. There are now several thousand India Associations - each of them more than just a social gathering. They serve as the umbrella that provides shelter to little children as they grow up in societies that are different from what is at their parent's land of origin or even coastal America. It is the safe haven that enables them to make friendships, creates a sense of belonging and a reservoir of support to fall back on when needed. It means a lot to the children and therefore even more to the parents. It is said that money and power magnify one's qualities and character. In this case - a vain old man's need to meet his self- esteem needs resulted in him manipulating India Association elections just so that he can ensure his "time on stage" year after year. He uses this little power he has to settle grudges, reward his puppets, anoint his proxies and spend as much time on stage - this little power magnified his pettiness. He stole my little girl's Diwali.

On the other hand, this incident brought out the goodness in the wonderful souls in the community. As parents we thank and remain indebted to those genuinely wonderful people that have understood this situation and have embraced the little girl and continue to support and help her.

By the way, the song that was deemed unfit, something she plays flawlessly, even though she is still learning the language - is JANA GANA MANA.

This brave little girl shares more than a resemblance with her great-grand mother - she shares her resilience and of course her middle name - Saraswati. Please read The Train from Mayiladuthurai Part I & II.

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sadrsam cestate svasyah
prakriter jnanavan api
prakritim yanti bhutani
nigrahah kim karishyati

śreyān sva-dharmo viguṇaḥ
para-dharmāt sv-anuṣṭhitāt
sva-dharme nidhanaḿ śreyaḥ
para-dharmo bhayāvahaḥ

In tagelanger Arbeit werden Papmache-Tempel gebaut

Diwali; krasse Sache!Das größte und bedeutendste Fest Nordindiens.
Ich ändere meine Pläne minütlich. Will ich zu Beginn noch mit Kommilitonen nach Darjeeling (Himalaya), entscheide ich mich fünf Minuten später für Strandurlaub und dann wieder doch dafür in Kolkata zu bleiben. Zwei Stunden, bevor der Zug nach Darjeeling den Bahnhof verlässt, entscheide ich mich, allein dorthin zu fahren. Am Bahnhof heißt es dann, es gäbe keinerlei Tickets mehr. Genauso hätte ich versuchen können am 23. Dezember ein Ticket von Leipzig nach Heidelberg zu bekommen.

Diwali-Dekoration in New Market

Ich komme alsozurück zu NUJS und verbringe Diwali mit Marieke in Park- respektive Sudderstreet. Abdends stoßen Chanakya und Vardaan zum Umtrunk in Olypub und Rumgetanze in Someplace Else hinzu. Dem Abschluss des Abends bildet Liedergegröle auf der Dachterasse in NUJS, begleite von meiner neuen Minigitarre.

Feierkomando

Stattdessen beschließen Chanakya und ich um halb drei noch einen Spaziergang zu machen und genießen die heißen Rythmen der Trommler, die überall auf der Straße ihr Unwesen treiben. Sich davon treiben zu lassen ist nach dem ganzen äääähmm.... Apfelsaft, den wir zuvor konsumierten, geht ganz gut, ist aber unglaublich anstrengend und schweißtreibend. Die netten Leute auf der Straße freuen mit uns.

Krassestes Abgetanze auf den Straßen von Beleaghata

Ich lerne den einfachen Satz: „shubho dipabeli!“ („fröhliches Diwali!“) auf bengali und grüße jeden der mir über den Weg läuft. Ganz zum Schluss noch eine Gruppe Polizisten an einer Absperrung. Einer davon freut sich anscheinend, dass ich diesen Satz beherrsche und ruft uns zurück.
Chanakya spricht ein wenig mit ihm und das einzige, was ich verstehe ist, dass es wohl um Süßigkeiten und NUJS geht. Ich grinse höflich und verständnislos. Ich erkläre mir das so, dass Chanakya mir wohl, der tradition gemäß irgendwelche westbengalischen Süßigkeiten anbieten soll. Chanakya sagt wohl, dass ich diese in NUJS erhalten würde.
Wir lösen uns von unserem Gesprächspartner und ich erfahre, was der Wachmann wirklch gesagt hat: „du bist Inder, du weißst also, was für Süßigkeiten ich verlange.“. Scheiße! Der Bulle wollte Schmiergeld von mir.
Das hätte böse enden können. Dabei wollte ich nur freundlich sein.
Ich bin Chanakya hundertausendfach dankbar, dass er dem korrupten Bullenschwein klar gemacht hat, dass es von mir nichts zu holen gibt und gehe ins Bett mit der Lektion, in Zukunft wirklich absolut jeden Kontakt mit der Polizei zu vermeiden.
Happy Diwali euch allen
Euer Paul

தேவி கிருஷ்ணா


புடவைக்கு ஆசைப்படாத பெண்ணும் உண்டா? வாங்குகிறார்களோ, இல்லையோ புடவைகளைக் கொஞ்ச நேரம் வேடிக்கை பார்ப்பதற்காகவாவது புடவைக் கடைகளுக்கு விசிட் அடிக்காதவர்கள் தமிழ்நாட்டில் கம்மி. புடவை மீது பெண்களுக்கு இருக்கும் ஆசைக்கு சற்றேறத்தாழ மூவாயிரம் ஆண்டு சரித்திரம் இருக்கிறது என்கிறார் "நூலோர்'. புடவையின் சரித்திரத்தைப் பார்ப்போமா?

இரண்டாயிரம் ஆண்டுகளுக்கு முன்பே தமிழ் வரலாற்றில் சேலை இடம் பெற்றிருந்தது. சங்க காலத்துக்கு முன்பு தாழையையும் பூவையையும் சேர்த்து உருவாக்கப்பட்ட தாழை ஆடைகளை பெண்கள் அணிந்து வந்தார்கள். உடைகளை கொடிகளாலும் நொச்சி இலைகளாலும் ஆக்கிக் கொண்டார்கள். விழாக் காலங்களில் நெய்தல் மலர்களால் தாழையுடை செய்தார்கள். இடுப்பிலும் மார்பிலும் மகளிர் தாழையுடை அணிந்தார்கள் என சங்ககால வாழ்வியல் கூறுகிறது. காலம் செல்ல பருத்தி உடையும் பட்டு உடையும் அணிந்தார்கள்.

பருத்தி உடை முதன்முதலில் தமிழ்நாட்டில்தான் ஆரம்பிக்கப்பட்டது என்றும் இங்கிருந்து மேல் நாடுகளுக்குப் பரவியது என்றும் வயர்சாண் மார்சல் கூறுகிறார். பால் ஆவி போன்ற மெல்லிய துணிகளும் பாம்பு தோல் போன்ற அழகான துணிகளும் காகிதம் மெல்லிய துணிகளும் சாக்கு போன்ற முரட்டுத் துணிகளும் நெய்யப்பட்டன. இங்கிருந்து மாதூரம் எனப் பெயர் பெற்ற புடவைகள் காசி, பாடலிபுரம் முதலிய இடங்களுக்கு அனுப்பப்பட்டது என்று 3-ம் நூற்றாண்டில் எழுதப்பட்ட அர்த்த சாஸ்த்திரத்தில் கூறப்பட்டுள்ளது. ரோம் முதலிய நாடுகளுக்கும் துணிகள் ஏற்றுமதி செய்யப்பட்டன.

அன்று நெசவு செய்பவர்கள் காருகர் என்று அழைக்கப்பட்டனர். வடகம், பாடகம், கோங்கலம், சித்திர கம்பி, பேடகம் எனப் பல பெயர்களில் ஆடைகளை சூடி மகிழ்ந்தனர். நீலம், சிவப்பு, மஞ்சள், கருப்பு முதலிய நிறங்களில் ஆடைகள் நெய்யப்பட்டன. அவற்றில் நுண்ணிய வேலைப் பாடுகள் இருந்தன. பருத்தியும் பட்டும் கொண்ட துணிகள் துகில் எனப்பட்டன.

நீளமாக நெய்யப்பட்ட துணிகள் பிறகு வெட்டப்பட்டு வேட்டிகளாகவும் துண்டுகளாகவும் பயன்படுத்தினர். இதனால் இவை அறுவை என்றழைக்கப்பட்டது. பருத்திப் புடவைகளுக்கு கலிங்கம் எனப் பெயர். பட்டு ஆடைகள் நூலாக் கலிங்கம் எனப்பட்டது.

நெய்வதில் தேர்ந்த தமிழன் அதற்கு சாயம் தீட்டுவதிலும் சிறந்து விளங்கினான். மலர்கள், செடி- கொடிகள், இலைகள் ஆகியவற்றின் சாறுகளில் வண்ணமேற்றினான். அவுரி செடியிலிருந்து ஏற்கப்பட்ட சாயம் ஐரோப்பியர்களின் மனதைக் கவர்ந்தது. இதில் இருந்து கிடைத்த நீல நிறச் சாயத்தை இண்டிகோ என்று அழைத்தனர்.

கடுக்காய், கொன்றைப் பூ போன்றவையும் சாயத்துக்குப் பயன்படுத்தப்பட்டன.

நாகரிகம் வளர வளர துணிகளின் ரகங்களும் வண்ணங்களும் மேலும் சிறப்படைந்தன. 18-19 ஆம் நூற்றாண்டுக்குச் செல்வோம். புடவைகள் முப்பாக சிறப்படைந்தன. அதாவது உடல், பார்டர், முந்தி என மூன்று பகுதிகள் உள்ள புடவைகள். ஆட்டுமுழி, புளியங் கொட்டை, சொக்கட்டான், வைரஊசி, பாய் பின்னல் மற்றும் மயில் கழுத்து, கிருஷ்ண மேகவர்ணம் போன்ற இரட்டைக் கலப்பு நிறங்களும் மோஸ்தராக இருந்தது.

முன் காலத்தில் காஞ்சிப்பட்டு சேலைகள் கனமாக இருக்கும். ஒரு புடவை 2 சேர், 3 சேர் (பழைய அளவுகள்) எடை இருக்கும். ஜரிகையையும் வேலைப் பாட்டையும் பொறுத்தே விலை நிர்ணயம் செய்யப்படும். ஆனால் இப்போது பெண்கள் வெயிட் இல்லாத புடவைகளையே விரும்புகிறார்கள். டெஸ்ட்டட் ஜரிகைப் புடவைகள் என்பவை தாமிரத்தில் தங்க முலாம் பூசுவார்கள். இவை எடை குறைவாக இருக்கும்.

பெரிய விலை கொடுத்து வாங்கும் பட்டுச் சேலைகளை எப்படி பராமரிப்பது?...

புடவைகளை பீரோக்களில் வைக்கும் போது ஒரு மெல்லிய மல்-மல் துண்டில் சுற்றி வைத்தால் ஜரிகை கருக்காமல் புடவை புத்தம் புதிதாக இருக்கும். கொஞ்சம் சூடம் அல்லது நெப்தலின் உருண்டைகளையும் பீரோ தட்டுகளில் போட்டு வைக்க வேண்டும்.

ஒவ்வொரு தடவையும் புடவையைக் கட்டிய பிறகு அதை காத்தாட வெளியில் போட்ட பிறகு மடித்து வைக்கவும். மழைக்காலத்தில் பட்டுப் புடவைகளை இளம் வெயிலில் கால் மணி நேரம் போட்டு எடுத்து வைக்க வேண்டும். இப்படி செய்தால் புடவை 70 ஆண்டுகள் வரை கெடாமல் இருக்கும்.

பூந்திக் கொட்டையை இடித்து அதைத் தண்ணீரில் போட்டு ஊர வைத்தால் சோப்புத் தண்ணீர் மாதிரி கிடைக்கும். அதைக் கொண்டு கையினால் புடவைகளைக் கசக்கிப் பிழிந்து காய வைத்தால் பட்டின் பளபளப்பும் மென்மையும் காக்கப்படும்.

போதுமா புடவை கதை?
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ஒலையில் நெய்த சேலை!

நாகரீகத்தின் வேகமான வளர்ச்சிக்கு ஈடு கொடுக்கும்விதத்தில் புதுப்புது வகைகளிலும், விதங்களிலும் செயற்கை நூலிழைகள் கண்டுபிடிக்கப்பட்டு வருகின்றன. இவற்றைப் பயன்படுத்தி உருவாக்கப்படும் புதிய சேலை வகைகளின் எண்ணிக்கையும் நாளுக்குநாள் அதிகரித்து வருகின்றன. என்னதான் செயற்கை இழைகளின் மீதான மோகம் நம்மை ஈர்த்தாலும், இயற்கை வழியில் தாவர நாரைப் பயன்படுத்தி ஆடைகளை உருவாக்கும் முயற்சிகளும் பல இடங்களில் நடைபெற்று வருகின்றன.

இந்த வகையில் ஏழைகளின் கற்பக விருட்சம் என அழைக்கப்படும் பனை மரத்தின் ஓலைகள் தற்போது நவநாகரீக சேலைகள் நெய்யவும் பயன்படும் என்பது தற்போது நிரூபணம் ஆகியுள்ளது. நாட்டிலேயே முதல் முறையாகச் சென்னை பல்லாவரத்தை அடுத்த அனகாபுத்தூரைச் சேர்ந்த கைத்தறி நெசவாளர் சங்கத்தினர் இந்தச் சாதனையை நிகழ்த்தியுள்ளனர்.

ஏற்கெனவே, சணல், வாழை நார் உள்பட பல்வேறு தாவர இழைகளைப் பயன்படுத்தி சேலைகளை உருவாக்கிச் சாதனை புரிந்து வரும் இச் சங்கத்தினர் தற்போது பனை ஓலையிலும் சேலை நெய்யமுடியும் என்பதை நிரூபித்துள்ளனர்.

விசைத்தறி, செயற்கை இழை ஆடைகள் என பல்வேறு போட்டிகளுக்கிடையே பாரம்பரிய கைத்தறி நெசவுத் துறையை நம்பி அதனை முன்னிலை படுத்தும் பல்வேறு கட்டங்களில் போராடி வருகிறார் அனகாபுத்தூர் சணல் நெசவாளர்கள் சங்கத்தின் தலைவர் சேகர். இந்தச் சோதனையான காலகட்டத்திலும் புதிய சாதனைகளை நிகழ்த்தி வரும் சேகர் ""வாழை நார் உள்ளிட்ட பல்வேறு தாவர இழைகளைப் பயன்படுத்தி சேலைகளை உருவாக்கி வருவதற்கு மக்களிடம் நல்ல வரவேற்பு கிடைத்துள்ளது. உள்நாட்டில் மட்டுமல்லாது கடல்கடந்தும் பல்வேறு வெளி நாடுகளிலும் இவ்வாறு தயாரிக்கப்படும் ஆடைகளுக்கு நல்ல வரவேற்பு உள்ளது.

குறிப்பாக ஜப்பான், பிலிப்பைன்ஸ் உள்ளிட்ட நாடுகளில் இத்தகைய புதிய முயற்சிகளுக்கு அந்தந்த நாட்டு அரசுகளிடம் நல்ல ஆதரவு கிடைத்து வருகிறது.

சுற்றுச்சூழல் உள்ளிட்ட பல்வேறு காரணங்களால் இங்கிலாந்து உள்ளிட்ட ஐரோப்பிய மற்றும் அமெரிக்க நாடுகளில் இத்தகைய சேலை ரகங்களுக்கு நல்ல சந்தை வாய்ப்பு உள்ளது.

இந் நிலையில் கோவையைச் சேர்ந்த ஒரு கல்லூரி மாணவி பனை ஓலையில் சேலை நெய்ய முடியும் என நம்பினார். பல்வேறு தாவர இழைகளைப் பயன்படுத்தி வரும் எங்களை அந்த மாணவி அணுகினார்.

வெளிப்படையாகத் தெரியும் சில அம்சங்களால் பனை ஓலையை ஆடை ரகங்களை நெய்ய பயன்படுத்த முடியாது எனப் பலரும் நினைத்தனர். நாங்கள் பனை ஓலையை மிகமிக மெல்லிய இழைகளாகப் பிரித்தோம். பின்னர் பருத்தி நூலிழைகளுடன் பனை ஓலை இழைகளைக் குறுக்காகப் பயன்படுத்தினோம். இந்த முயற்சி வெற்றிகரமாக அமைந்தது.

சேலையில் டிசைகள் வரும் இடங்களில் வழக்கமான இழைகளுடன் பனை ஓலை இழைகளைப் பயன்படுத்தியது சிறப்பாக அமைந்தது. இது சேலைக்குப் புது பொலிவை அளிப்பதாக அமைந்தது. தற்போது ஒரு சேலையில் பருத்தி இழைகளுடன் சுமார் 40 சதவீத அளவுக்குப் பனை ஓலை இழைகளைப் பயன்படுத்தி வருகிறோம். பனை ஓலை இழைகளை இயந்திரங்களைப் பயன்படுத்தி மேலும் மெல்லிய இழைகள் எடுத்தால் சேலையில் இதன் அளவை மேலும் அதிகரிக்க முடியும். இதற்கு அரசின் தொழில்நுட்ப உதவி அவசியமாகிறது. பனை ஓலையைப் பயன்படுத்தி நெய்யப்படும் சேலைகள் செயற்கை இழை சேலை மோகத்தில் இருந்து மக்களின் கவனத்தைத் தாவர நாரின் பக்கம் இழுக்கும் என்பதில் ஐயமில்லை'' என்கிறார் சேகர் நம்பிக்கையுடன்.

ஆதி மனிதன் இலையைத்தான் ஆடையாகப் பயன்படுத்தினான் இப்ப... ஓலை சேலை...!

வி. கிருஷ்ணமூர்த்தி

புதுமை பூக்கும் புடவைகள் « Snap Judgment

Every summer, he came to Bombay and took his sister’s children back to their little town near Thanjavur and he treated them royally as all uncles are expected to. They played with his four children, three sons and a cute little daughter. This year, he had insisted that the boy stay back a few more weeks, while his siblings left earlier with their mother. Hopefully they will tell their father - his brother-in-law how well they were treated by their Uncle. His brother-in-law’s younger brother had now become the personal assistant to Devika Rani and he was hoping that maybe he could get a glimpse of this famous actress and visit a movie studio this time. He was looking forward to getting to Bombay and enjoying his sister’s cooking at their Matunga flat.

As they neared the bridge over the river Sina, the train slowed down and came to a halt. He looked out saw the halt signal on the semaphore system. This junction still did not have the new color based systems yet. He looked around the compartment - there were not too many people. He could hear a baby chuckling a few seats away behind him. His nephew had dozed off to the train movements - probably reminding him of the cradle. He thought about going out and having a chat with Railway staff and get to know the reasons for the halt signal. He was going to ask the couple across the aisle to keep an eye on his nephew when he heard what sounded like a door slamming. He heard a crowd and then a loud scream from not too far away and then it started. A mob had entered the train, armed with knives, sticks and swords. No reason was given other than a war cry in a language not of the sub-continent - praising God. There was no way out- as the mob had split up and entered from both sides of the first class compartment. His nephew’s life at stake, he quickly took the sleeping boy and pushed him under the seat. He would rather die and than face his sister, if her son were harmed. As the mob came in, he fell and draped himself over the little boy. It was over in a few minutes. He was bleeding from knife wounds, his body and head hurting from blows. His nephew was safe. That was all that mattered - not his wounds, not the bleeding from his stomach and back. There was carnage everywhere - the little baby and her parents no more. All in the name of a faith. This spontaneous burst of savagery was a result of some perceived provocation in the nearby town - for which innocents gave their life.

He made his way back to Bombay, proud that his nephew was not hurt and returned him to his sister and brother-in-law - the family honor intact. His brother-in-law arranged for him to be treated at his company’s hospital (the perks of marrying his sister well) and he returned back to Mayavaram, a proud but wounded man. He was looking forward to returning to his routine. He loved trains and loved all things mechanical. He had taught himself to fix watches and served as the local watch and clock repairman as well. He had scrounged around and made a toolbox himself along with assorted imported tools that he could afford during his visits to Bombay.

He never recovered fully, his wounds inside had not healed and a few months later he felt that he had to go to the patnam (big city) and he told his young wife that he was leaving for treatment. She was his second wife and he loved her dearly. The first one had died early and without children. She was very pretty and her brother was one of the most highly regarded Vedic scholars. Even the Kanchi Acharya consulted him on matters of import - he thought with pride. His daughter was getting cuter by the day and it will not be long before he needed to get her married off.. It was getting close to Deepavali and he wanted to get these wounds taken care of and come back before Deepavali. He waved to his little ones - the two youngest ones, the daughter was 7 and the youngest boy 4 years old. He told his eldest to take care of the family and second one to help his brother out. His wife insisted he take the eldest with him. With his eldest, he left on the train from Mayiladuthurai.

He reached Chennai in the morning. He made his way to a distant relative’s house, changed and left for the Royapettah General Hospital - one of the best Government hospitals in Chennai.

A few weeks later, outside a small house in Mayiladuthurai the post man called out “thanthi thanthi” (”Telegram”). The little girl and the little boy rushed out - curious. They were wearing new clothes. Their mother asked the second son to go out and get the “thanthi”. In the last one her husband had sent, he had promised to come back soon. The post man wanted to get home - he was not supposed to be working that day and the little brats in the streets were setting up crackers and snickering when it exploded as he bicycled over them. The second son opened the thanthi and as he read his legs gave away - his father had passed away on the first day of Deepavali . His father’s life taken prematurely in the name of another faith. That evening, he walked to the Mayiladuthurai railway station and stood there, tears streaming down his cheeks, as he recollected the last memories of his father boarding the train from Mayiladuthurai.

This family now had something in common with the people of Melkote. (See " The Meaning of the Diya")

This is a true story pieced together from the recollections of the “nephew”, the young wife, the little daughter and the sons. See “the train from Mayiladuthurai Part II. It covers the struggles of the young woman, Saraswathi Ammal, as she deals with the loss of her husband to savagery on behalf of another faith, as she navigates through life in a in a small south Indian town, dealing with widowhood, ostracized by her community and raising four children.