The Clever Tailor (Hindi Storytelling Script)

The Clever Tailor by Srividhya Venkat and Nayantara Surendranath (published by Karadi), is a lovely story of a resourceful tailor who finds creative ways of minimizing waste. The book is in English, but I like to conduct the storytelling session in Hindi. Here's the script that I created a while ago. Do note the small snippets which can be set to tune and kids can be asked to repeat those as you go along!

रूपा राम जी बहुत बढ़िया दरजी थे| सबको उनके हाथों के बने कपड़े बहुत पसंद आते थे| कितनी बेहतरीन शेरवानी बनाते थे वह! और सलवार कुर्ती की फिटिंग तो उनसे बेहतर कोई नहीं कर सकता था| उनके हाथों में तो जैसे जादू था| 

रूपा राम जी के ग्राहक सुबह के लेकर शाम तक उनकी तारीफें करते, पर रूपा राम जी खुश नहीं होते थे| उन्हें एक परेशानी थी| उन्हें एक परेशानी थी| उन्होंने हज़ारों लोगों के कपडे सीए थे, पर अपने लिए, या अपने परिवार के लिया कभी कुछ बढ़िया नहीं सिल पाए| कुछ भी अच्छा बनाने की लिए अच्छे कपड़े की जरुरत होती है| और बढ़िया कपड़ा खरीदने के लिए जरुरत होती है पैसों की, जो उनके पास कभी नहीं होते थे| तो वे अपने मन मसोस कर रह जाते थे| एक दिन रूपा राम जी को एक शादी में जाना था| वहाँ जाने के लिए उन्हें एक पगड़ी की जरुरत थी| उनके पास एक पगड़ी थी, बिलकुल पुरानी| बेचारे क्या करते! तो पुरानी पगड़ी पहन कर ही चले गए| पर पता है शादी में क्या हुआ? उनका स्वागत एक नयी पगड़ी के साथ हुआ! रूपा राम जी को नयी पगड़ी इतनी पसंद आयी की वह उसे हर वक़्त पहने रहते| सोते हुए भी, कहते हुए भी, घर के अंदर, घर के बाहर, सब जगह भाई सब जगह! उन्होंने उस पगड़ी को इतना पहना, इतना पहना कि वे उसे पहन पहन कर बोर हो गए| 

पगड़ी का कपड़ा अब भी अच्छा था और रूपा राम जी बहुत चतुर! तो उन्होंने ने उसको काट कर, अपनी बींदणी के लिए एक ओढ़नी बना दी! नयी ओढ़नी पहन कर रूपा राम जी की बींदणी तो ख़ुशी से झूम उठी! पहले तो खुद को आईने में देख कर शर्मायी| उसके बाद तो उसने ओढ़नी को पहने ही रखा! रसोई में, घर में, मेले में, पनघट पे, हर जगह भाई हर जगह! 

अब कोई भी एक चीज़ को हर वक़्त पहने रखे तो कभी न कभी तो उससे बोर हो ही जायेगा ना! बस, बींदणी भी बोर हो गयी| पर रूपा राम जी कोई आम दरजी थोड़े न थे| उन्होंने ध्यान से ओढ़नी को देखा| फिर कुछ मुस्कुराये| फिर झट से अपनी सिलाई मशीन निकली और उस पर काम करने लगे| जब उठे, तो उनके हाथों में अपनी बेटे के लिये एक कुरता था! और वह कुरता इतना बेहतरीन था की उनका बीटा उस कुर्ते को कभी नहीं उतारता था| हर वक़्त पहने ही रहता| स्कूल के अंदर, स्कूल के बाहर, खेल के मैदान में और फिर बागान में! हर वक़्त भाई हर वक़्त!

जब कुरता भी पुराना हो गया, तो पता है उन्होंने क्या किया? अपनी छोटी सी बेटी के लिए एक प्यारी सी गुड़िया बना दी! उस गुड़िया से उनकी बेटी हमेशा खेलती रहती थी, कभी खुद से दूर नहीं होने देती थी| पर एक दिन उनकी बेटी भी अपनी गुड़िया से बोर हो गयी, तो रूपा राम जी ने फिर अपनी कारीगरी दिखाई और कपड़े से एक सुन्दर सा गुलाब का फूल बना दिया! वह गुलाब का फूल घर के अलग अलग कोने में सजाया जाता| लेकिन उस फूल से एक आखरी चीज़ बनी| और वह चीज़ थी एक कहानी! 

कहानी थी रूपा राम जी की पगड़ी की - जिसमें में उन्होंने बनायी एक सुन्दर ओढ़नी| ओढ़नी से बना एक कुर्ता| कुर्ते से बानी एक गुड़िया, और गुड़िया से बना एक फूल, गुलाब का| रूपा राम जी हर आने जाने वाले को यह कहानी बड़े चाव से सुनाते थे| सबसे अच्छी बात तो यह थी, की यह कहानी सुन कर कभी भी कोई बोर नहीं होता था!

The Incredible Book Eating Boy - Hindi Storytelling Script

I absolutely adore books by Oliver Jeffers! They have a universal appeal to them and the illustrations are gorgeous. I also love using the books for storytelling. One of these books that I've used is The Incredible Book Eating Boy. I first prepared this script in Hindi in 2018. I haven't used it since, but hopefully will get to do that again real soon!

एक लड़का था, हेनरी| हेनरी को किताबें खाना बहुत पसंद था| किताबें भी भला खाता है कोई? हुआ ये, कि एक दिन हेनरी को स्कूल में टीचर ने एक किताब दी| किताब हाथ में ले कर हेनरी बड़ा खुश हुआ| पहले तो उसने किताब को गले लगाया| फिर किताब को देखते-देखते पता नहीं कैसे चाट लिया| किताब कुछ स्वादिष्ट सी थी! पहले उसने झिझकते हुए एक शब्द खाया| वाह, क्या मज़ा आया! उसके बाद उसने एक वाक्य और फिर देखते देखते पूरा एक पन्ना खा लिया| ओहो! क्या स्वाद था| ऐसा पकवान तो उसने कभी भी नहीं चखा था! फिर तो हद्द ही हो गयी - उसने एक ही दिन में पूरी की पूरी किताब ही खा ली! और थोड़े ही दिनों में वह किताब को रसगुल्ले की तरह चट कर जाता था| फिर यह गाना गाता था - 

खा लो, खा लो, किताबें खा लो,

कहानी खा लो, चुटकुले खा लो, 

मैथ भी खा लो, साइंस भी खा लो 

एक ही खा लो, दस ही खा लो,

खा लो, खा लो, किताबें खा लो!

सबसे आश्चर्य की बात तो यह थी, कि हेनरी जितनी किताबें खाता, उतना ही बुद्धिमान होता जाता| उसने एक किताब खायी, जिसमें चूहों के बारे में लिखा था| तो उसे चूहों की भाषा आ गयी! स्कूल की गणित की किताब खा ली, तो मैडम को सारे सवालों के जवाब झट से दे देता! और तो और, अपने पिताजी की हिसाब करने में भी मदद करने लगा| 

हेनरी को अपनी बुद्धिमानी पर बड़ा गर्व होता था| वह सोचता, कि इस तरह तो वह दुनिया का सबसे बुद्धिमान लड़का बन सकता था! यह सोच कर वह किताबें खाता जाता| और फिर वह एक एक कर के किताबें खाने की जगह, ३-४ किताबें खाने लगा| चाहे कैसी भी किताब हो, वह उसे खा लेता था| 

फिर एक रात कुछ अजीब हुआ| हेनरी को एक बहुत डरावना सपना आया| सपने में एक बड़ी सी किताब हेनरी के पीछे पीछे भाग रही थी| हेनरी जोर से चिल्लाया और उठ गया| उसे लगा कि उसकी तबियत शायद ठीक नहीं थी| और फिर तो उसकी तबियत दिन-ब-दिन ख़राब होने लगी| सारी चीज़ें उलटी पुल्टी होने लगीं| एक दिन मैडम ने उससे पूछा, कि २ और २ कितने होते हैं, और हेनरी ने कहा, "मैडम जी, ३!" हेनरी ने जो कुछ भी आता था, सब चीज़ों की खिचड़ी बन गयी| कुछ कहने के लिए मुँह खोलता, तो शब्द बाहर ही नहीं आ पाते! बेचारा हेनरी उदास रहने लगा| सबने कहा, "हेनरी, किताबें खाना छोड़ दो! वैसे तुम जिस भी किताब को खा लेते हो, उसे फिर कोई नहीं पढ़ पाता|" तो हेनरी ने किताबें खाना छोड़ दिया| और करता भी क्या बेचारा!

पर हेनरी किताबों को बहुत मिस करता| उसका किताबों को देखने का मन करता था| फिर एक दिन उसे एक आईडिया आया| उसने एक किताब उठायी, और उसे खाने की बजाय वह उसे पढ़ने लगा| उसे किताब बहुत अच्छी लगी| फिर तो हेनरी खुश हो गया! क्यूँकि वह किताबें खाने की जगह उन्हें पढ़ने लगे, तो भी तो वह दुनिया का सबसे बुद्धिमान लड़का बन सकता था| और उस दिन के बाद हेनरी ने कभी भी कोई भी किताब नहीं खायी!

The Story of a Story-wall (GPS Tika Khas, Dharmshala)

This write-up is about painting a story-wall in the nursery room of a government primary school. The idea is to paint illustrations from children's books, so that when children are back in school, the walls can be used for storytelling.

Background:

I had first seen a few artists create a story-wall in 2018, at a government school in Gurgaon. The artists were already quite experienced in creating wall murals. We additionally requested them to use illustrations from children’s story books that we had gifted to the school. They deftly re-created the illustrations on the wall, which we then used for a storytelling session with the children. The children were fascinated! They kept looking at walls in the classroom, unable to take their eyes off the walls.

My second experience of seeing a story-wall was in the same year, in Majuli. I was volunteering my time to set up a library for Ayang Trust. They had also invited an artist to paint illustrations from children’s story books, on the walls of the library. Again, the wall turned out to be beautiful. This time I watched the artist much more closely and was myself quite fascinated with the process. So much so that when the artist left, I took it upon myself to use the leftover paints to paint every surface I could lay my hands on (mostly newly constructed plywood shelves, clay pots and so on)! I really loved the medium of acrylic colors, especially when using it on plywood. I found it meditative to spend hours mixing the blues and spreading it on the different surfaces – I think I was painting after over a decade.

The following year, I procured some supplies, a canvas and spent quite a bit of time exploring the medium by itself and the result of these explorations were a few paintings. But more than that, I felt like these explorations allowed me to express myself in a way that I couldn’t do through words. At the same time, I started exploring other art forms, not just limited myself to visual arts, but also other forms like like Kathak, Hindustani Classical music and even Hindi poetry! A lot of times felt like I was back to my childhood days, when every weekend would be packed with painting, music and dance lessons and how as an adolescent I used to write Hindi poetry that was mostly hidden away. Recollecting and revisiting these varied experiences have shaped my current understanding of art and its purpose (and continue to do so). The cherry on the cake was undergoing an art education programme for educators, which helped strengthen my understanding of the role of arts in the development of a child.

One of the things that I try to do, is to help children be comfortable with and even proud of whatever they create, instead of being constantly critical of their work. But saying is hardly enough, especially when you’ve not experienced the vulnerability and have done something to overcome it. So with great hesitation I started putting myself in the same vulnerable spot by sharing my own art explorations with other people. And results were exactly the same as I’ve seen in the classroom. When a child who is focused on the imperfections of their work hears encouraging feedback from others on the ‘beauty’ of their work, they themselves start looking at their work from a new perspective.

For me, this project embodied everything that I encourage children to do – to be confident of their abilities, to push themselves to explore the unknown, to take on more challenging projects and to own their output with pride. Hence it was much, much more than a one-time side project that I took up to use my time meaningfully during the holiday season. It was a small piece of the bigger art composition that is still in the making.

Location: Government Primary School, Tika Khas, Dharmshala, Himachal Pradesh. The school has recently undergone renovations and the room had recently received a coat of plastering and whitewashing, making the wall a great canvas.

Time taken to accomplish the task: Approx 20 hours, spread over seven sittings (Dec 2020 – Jan 2021)

Materials used:

• Print outs of illustrations
• Colored chalk/ soft pastels
• Brushes (thick flat brush, 2-3 round brushes (I used 12 no. from Faber Castell) and palette
• Small paint roller and flat palette
• Acrylic paints – I used Fevicryl 500 ml bottles in primary colors, white, green, teal (also used up some leftover supplies I had from before)
• Small tubes of Faber Castell acrylics (24 shades), primarily to add multiple tints
• Napkins, towels, newspapers, old cloth
• A big bucket of water for cleaning brushes etc
• It's helpful if the surface that you're painting on is smooth
• Chair/ floor mat/ anything else for sitting at various heights
• Trash bin

I primarily spent money on paint, which cost me around INR 2000 (I bought 500 ml bottles of most paints, when only 250 ml would’ve been sufficient. So I still have enough paint left for another wall).

Step 1 - Choice of story and illustrations

I decided to go with the story The Pleasant Rakshas (written by Sowmya Rajendran and illustrated by Niveditha Subramaniyam, published by Tulika Books). I don’t remember exactly when or how I first came across this book, but I do remember using this story for storytelling to a group of primary school children. And it was a hit!

The protagonist, a monster named Karimuga is unconventionally beautiful (the text subverts the concept of beauty). He is purple in color and has bright pink cheek. His teeth are bright yellow like the wild flowers that grow in the jungle. He has a huge belly and is super hairy. All the other rakshas wish they could be as beautiful as him. But Karimuga is not just beautiful on the outside, but on the inside too. He doesn’t want anyone to feel bad because of him so he decides to share all his beauty with the other rakshasas. And as happy as this makes him, he also feels a little pang of sadness.

I found this sadness to be the most sensitive part of the story. Isn’t this what most people, especially children, would feel when they’re laden with the burden of being ‘good’? Yes, values are important, but what do children actually feel when they have to share their things with others? Does the knowledge that they’re winning the approval of adults around them make them magically feel better? For example, Karimuga had the agency to decide whether he wanted to share his beauty with the other rakshasas. But even that didn’t make the entire burden of sharing easier for him. I wonder what it would be like to open this question to children during a storytelling discussion.

I also love the simple, colourful illustrations of the monsters with their imperfections. I thought the younger kids would be able to relate to something like that easily. Also the lines and colors in the illustrations are such that they're simple and fun, yet they would be more forgiving in terms of imperfections that might creep in (since I have no prior experience with this). And I loved the bright colors! I also felt I could try to create different textures, so there was enough scope for experimentation. I decided to put together elements from different sections of the story in sort of a collage.

Step 2: Drawing rough outlines using chalk/ soft pastels

I went through this step even before the wall was plastered and whitewashed, when the wall just had a cement coat. I used soft pastels (it is perfectly fine to use chalk as well) to create rough outlines of the characters, to get a sense of space and composition. It also helped me in overcoming the procrastination that precedes an ambitious project like this. After that initial chalk drawing, I was confident that I would be able to do a decent job of it all.

It was helpful that I did this before the wall had been plastered. It helped me in being less nervous; if something went horribly off, the wall could simply be whitewashed. Although looking back I think it would’ve been fine even if I’d done this after the wall has been whitewashed, because the soft pastels were easily covered when I started using the acrylics.

Step 3: Covering big areas with paint

Once the wall had been whitewashed, I drew the characters once again, with some alterations and started painting the bodies of the monsters first. I first painted the central character – not just because it covered the most surface area, but also because all other characters would have to be done in relation to this character. So I painted the body and the big yellow halo around its head. I mixed the blue and red paints to get a purple. Even though it was darker that I wanted, it stood against the white background and the yellow halo, so I let it be. I also painted the bodies of a couple of other monsters. I tried to recreate the textures, instead of painting blocks of solid colors. This not only broke the monotony that big patches of solid colors can bring, but complimented the essence of the story.

Step 3: Adding finer details and background colors

Once the big patches were done, I added some background colors and finer details like the details on the face (eyes, smiles, teeth, nose etc). Once that was done, I used black outlines to define the features of the monsters. Even though I had to touch up most of the boundaries once again towards the end, doing this simultaneously gave me a sense of small accomplishments as I went along, which helped me in staying motivated until the end. At this stage, I had to sometimes use double coats of paint as well, since the tints of Fevicryl paint wasn’t as intense as I would have like it to be. I think it might be easier to paint the outlines using acrylic tube paint instead. 

Step 4: Adding finishing touches

This meant covering and gaps which stood out, as well as applying a second (or even third) coat of paint, especially on the outlines. I also used soft pastels to cover any blank areas - this was otherwise difficult to do using acrylic paints (and a brush).

I did arrive at a point where all of a sudden I was like, 'hmm, this is done now'. Was it perfect? No. But then, I never meant for it to be perfect either. But in that moment, it struck me that it was actually done. This mammoth piece of project that I'd been working on for a full month was actually done (still feels quite surreal)! I took a step back (literally) and spent a few minutes looking at it and I could feel a sense of happiness fill up my entire being. Before I knew it, I was grinning away to glory. I was super proud and I wanted to celebrate it. Cherish it. Stay with it. Smile at it. And in that moment, I could see myself sitting in that space with the kids, sharing smiles and cake :)

Step 5: Storytelling (work in progress)

At this point, I don't know when would the kids be back in school, so I don't know when would I get to use this wall to narrate the story to them. However, I had prepared a little script sometime ago, which I'm revisiting right now. This includes a little song that I composed myself :) Here's the current version of the script, in Hindi.

Brief character sketch:

• Karimuga is a pleasant, happy-go-lucky monster. He is simple and sensitive and gets along with everyone. He smiles a lot and behaves like a little child.
• Gyani Ped Baba is ancient and hence there is a slowness about him (he probably sleeps most of the time!). 
• The green rakshas, who gets hairy legs, has a Goofy-like quality to him; he laughs with hiccups in between. Is also probably the most fashion-conscious rakshas of the entire lot :D
• The blue (female) rakshas gets the red eyes. She's the cutest of them all.
• The red rakshas gets the paunch. He is big and bulky and walks like a fat guy.
• The black rakshas gets purple body color. He is a little angry at all times. 

एक राक्षस था| दुसरे राक्षसों से बिलकुल अलग| उसका नाम था करीमुगा| करीमुगा एक हँसमुख राक्षस था| उसका रंग जामुनी और और गाल गुलाबी थे| उसके पास एक बड़ी सी तोंद और रोएंदार टाँगे थी| आँखें बिलकुल लाल| और उसके दाँत? उसके दाँत जंगल में उगने वाले जंगली फूलों की तरह पीले थे| रात में जब करीमुगा मुस्कुराता, तो पतंगे उसके दाँतों के आस पास ऐसे मँडराते, जैसे उसके दाँत अँधेरे में जलती मोमबत्तियाँ हों! और करीमुगा तो हमेशा ही मुस्कुराता रहता था! पर दूसरे राक्षसों को उसकी मुस्कराहट और सुंदरता से बड़ी जलन होती थी|

काला राक्षस कहता, "उसका जमुनी रंग तो देखो! काश मेरा रंग भी इतना सुन्दर होता.."

नीला राक्षस कहता, "उसकी लाल आँखें तो देखो! मेरे नीले रंग के साथ कितनी अच्छी लगती न!"

लाल राक्षस कहता, "वह देखो उसकी बड़ी सी तोंद!"

और हरे राक्षस को करीमुगा की टांगें बहुत पसंद थी| वह कहता, "इतनी सुन्दर टाँगें! ऐसी टाँगें पाने के लिए तो मैं कुछ भी कर सकता हूँ!" 

फिर सारे राक्षस मिल कर एक गाना गाते:

 

करीमुगा का रंग तो देखो रंग तो देखो

करीमुगा की आँख तो देखो आँख तो देखो

करीमुगा के दाँत तो देखो दाँत तो देखो

करीमुगा की तोंद तो देखो तोंद तो देखो

सबसे सुन्दर करीमुगा है करीमुगा है!

एक दिन करीमुगा ने दूसरे राक्षसों की बातें सुन ली| बातें सुनकर वह पहले तो बड़ा खुश हुआ, पर फिर वह थोड़ा उदास हो गया| वह नहीं चाहता था उसके दोस्त उसकी वजह से उदास हों| तो इस समस्या का हल निकलने के लिए वह गया ज्ञानी पेड़ बाबा के पास| ज्ञानी पेड़ बाबा जंगल के सबसे बुजुर्ग पेड़ थे| सारे लोग अपनी समस्या लेकर उनके पास जाते थे| करीमुगा पेड़ बाबा के पास हाथ जोड़ कर खड़ा हो गया|

 

फिर बोला, "पेड़ बाबा, क्या आप मेरी सुंदरता ले कर मेरे दोस्तों को दे सकते हैं?"

ज्ञानी पेड़ बाबा ने पूछा, "क्यों?"

करीमुगा ने कहा "वो मैं अपनी सुंदरता से थोड़ा बोर हो गया हूँ| आप प्लीज मेरी सुंदरता लेकर मेरे दोस्तों में बाँट दीजिये"

ज्ञानी पेड़ बाबा थोड़ा मुस्कुराये| फिर उन्होंने कहा "तथास्तु!"

करीमुगा बड़ा खुश हुआ! भागते भागते उसने चिल्लाकर कहा "थैंक यू पेड़ बाबा, थैंक यू!"

 

करीमुगा भागते भागते अपने दोस्तों के पहुँचा| वहाँ तो क्या नज़ारा था! काला राक्षस अब जमुनी हो गया था| सारे राक्षस बहुत खुश थे| हरे राक्षस के पास सुन्दर, रोयेंदार टाँगें थीं| लाल राक्षस के पास अब बड़ी सी तोंद थी, जिस पर वह बार बार हाथ फेरे जा रहा था| और नीले राक्षस को मिली थी सुन्दर लाल आँखें!

 

अब तो सारे राक्षस मुस्कुरा रहे थे, सिवाय करीमुगा के| उसके शरीर का जामुनी रंग गायब हो गया था| आँखों का सुन्दर लाल रंग भी उड़ गया था| टाँगों पर एक भी रोयां नहीं था और उसकी गोल मटोल तोंद छूमंतर हो गयी थी!

दूसरे राक्षसों ने करीमुगा की उदासी समझ ली| लाल राक्षस ने कहा, "मेरे पास एक आईडिया है!" यह कहकर वह करीमुगा को गुदगुदी करने लगा| यह देख कर बाकी सारे राक्षस भी करीमुगा को गुदगुदाने लगे| करीमुगा हँसते हँसते ऐसा लोटपोट हुआ की वह पहाड़ के नीचे लुढ़कने लगा! और लुढ़कते लुढ़कते वह जा पहुँचा नदी के तट पर| वह नदी में गिरने ही वाला था कि अचानक उसे पानी में अपना चेहरा दिखा| उसके दाँत तो अब भी पीले थे! यह देख कर वह जोर जोर से हँसने लगा| और करीमुगा एक बार फिर से एक हँसमुख राक्षस बन गया!  

Post session activity:

The potential activity (for 3-5 year olds) could be creating monsters using paper collage - they could cut/ tear big pieces to create body parts and add finer details. 

Acknowledgements:

Throughout the project, I had full support of the school head teacher, Mrs. Prerna Sood. This ensured that I not only had easy access to the room for painting, but she also made other resources available – like chair, buckets and so on. It was also quite helpful that she had given me the freedom to decide what I wanted to paint on the walls and was quite encouraging throughout.

The Work-In-Progress Idli Recipe

When I was a little girl, an idli vendor used to come by every morning with a huge aluminium bucket full of steaming hot idlis and chilled coconut chutney. Each idli cost a rupee and it was served on a small banana leaf along with a generous portion of the chutney (on Sundays he would also bring masala dosa and vada, along with sambar). This was my favourite breakfast - and on countless days I would take this in my tiffin to school. On some days the kind vendor at school would pour some steaming hot sambar onto the idlis that I took from home - that was bliss! 

Over the years, I've been pretty vocal about my idli-love. Idlis are my go-to comfort food, irrespective of the time of the day and I don't think I can ever have enough of these. One time I had idlis for four consecutive meals! There's something so magical about steaming hot idlis served with sambhar and chutney - but I can have these plain too. 

However, I had never tried making these at home. This was primarily for two reasons - one, I always felt it was too much work to make the batter from scratch, especially for one person. Not that I had the right equipment needed to carry out the project either. The fact that idli needs a lot of skill didn't help either. Plus there were always enough delivery services in the neighborhood. My mom never made rice idlis at home. She makes amazing rava idlis, so I recently tried to give it a shot in my make-shift idli steamer (a covered pan with a small steel ring placed at the base and a bowl half full of batter placed on top of it). That turned out to be quite alright. I guess that's how I gained enough confidence to try and make rice idlis from scratch. The fact that I haven't found a good idli place in the neighborhood yet may have been an important consideration in this decision. 

I turned to Adith for help. Adith is my friend from Chennai who is aware of my love for idlis. Adith's mom gave him broad directions for the recipe, which he sent to me. The thing is, Adith doesn't cook either, so it was only after a couple of back and forths that I was able to get enough information to get started. I ordered parboiled rice on Amazon (none of the local stores here stock it) and waited for about 2 weeks for it to arrive. I also ordered a mixer grinder since I didn't own any. Yes, all this to be able to make idlis at home.   

I used the recipe to make the first batch of batter, which I steamed to make idlis. The result was hard idlis, which also seemed like they were undercooked. I was heartbroken! How could have I expected to make perfectly fluffy idlis at the first attempt? Adith didn't know the solution to this, but he consoled me by saying that it is common for people to not get it right even if they've been making it for ages. So if I got hard idlis in the first attempt, that was actually good progress! I didn't have the heart to steam any more idlis with the batter, so I tried making dosas out of it. However, the texture of the dosa was way too grainy - that's how I realized that the batter was way too coarse. I mentioned this randomly to a wise, elderly gentleman (I didn't know he had any knowledge about cooking), and he said that the reason that the idlis were hard could be because the batter hadn't fermented enough. He said his wife usually adds a little Eno before steaming idlis. 

So once I had recovered from my heartbreak, I made a new batch of batter. This time I ground the rice a little more before adding it to the dal paste. And I left it overnight in the container to ferment. Before steaming I added a little Eno and also about half a teaspoon of ghee (a tip I got from Upasana, another friend who is heavily invested in my idli-making endeavors). I steamed the first portion for about ten minutes, which resulted in undercooked idlis (the top was fine, but the bottom was definitely undercooked). But hey, at least it wasn't hard! After a bunch of trial and errors, I discovered that fifteen mins is what it takes, after which you need to leave it in the pan for another 5 minutes and then take it out and let it sit for another 5 minutes. I swear it takes all the restraint in my body to not take it out of the steamer and eat it immediately (obviously resulting in undercooked idlis)!    

I still haven't received perfection though. I think I need a shallower bowl/ plate which I can use in the pan (the current utensil that I use is a little deep). I also need to figure out how to ferment the batter more - I used the last bit of the batter this morning (I made it four days ago) and it seemed like the fermentation had finally happened properly. But I do know that the batter recipe that Adith's mom shared is pretty much spot on. So if you're curious, here it is:     

Take 3 cups of rice (Adith recommends parboiled rice for this) and add 1/4 methi (fenugreek seeds) to it. Soak this in a vessel overnight. Also soak 1/2 cup urad dal overnight, in a separate vessel (minimum 3 hours). I found out that if you wash both these things before soaking, that works out to be better.

The grinding process will depend on how quickly you want to use the batter. If you want to use the batter immeditely, drain the water, add a glass of buttermilk and salt and grind everything together. However, if you're not in a rush, you can follow the longer method (this is what I've been working with): 

Grind rice (leave the methi in) with a little water into a coarse batter ( it should have a slightly grainy texture). While you grind the rice, leave the dal in the fridge to chill. Once the rice is ground, keep it aside. 

Grind the dal separately - this needs to be a fine, fluffy batter.  Once this is done, mix the rice and dal together and add salt (the salt and methi will help with fermentation). Leave it overnight in a closed container for fermentation (keep it outside, not in the refrigerator). This batter can be stored in the refrigerator for 3-4 days.

I haven't had enough time to work out the sambar recipe yet, so that'd have to be shared in a separate post. I've mostly been devouring the idlis that I've made this week with some hummus (!), which has become a staple now. I do temper it with mustard seeds and curry leaves so that it feels adequately chutney-like! I'm not particularly proud, but in case you're wondering what my work-in-progress idli looks like, here's the picture:

The No-Fail Pav Bhaji Recipe

This post is dedicated to Alka Grover, who shared this brilliant recipe. I love you! <3

Pav bhaji is my second-most preferred comfort food (after idlis). Growing up in one of the busiest localities in Kolkata, yummy pav bhaji was easily available. When I moved out of the city, finding good pav-bhaji was a pain. Most places make pav bhaji in mixed-vegetable style, with too much masala thrown in. I crave to have home-made pav bhaji that brings together sweet, sour, spicy, and tangy together beautifully in a buttery concoction. And then one day, I had the pav bhaji that Alka auntie makes and I became an instant fan! Now that I barely get to see her, she shared her recipe with me. This recipe gets recreated in my kitchen at least once a week. It takes me up to an hour to do everything and there's enough bhaji for 2-3 people. 

Here you go!   

INGREDIENTS:

Vegetables:

• 4 medium-sized potatoes, boiled 
• Cauliflower, peas, beans, lauki - about the same quantity as the potatoes; steamed (pro-tip: do not use carrots as it changes the taste considerably. I personally do not like the texture of laukis so I avoid that too. Also the only veggie that you absolutely must have is cauliflower)
• 4 tomatoes, chopped (the redder the tomatoes, the lovelier would be the color of the bhaji!)
• 1 medium-sized onion, chopped 
• 4 cloves of garlic - peeled and finely chopped/ grated
• 1/2 inch piece of ginger, grated
• 1 lemon
• Some green coriander for garnishing

Masala: 

• 1 tsp salt (adjust as per taste)
• 1/2 tsp ground zeera
• 1/2 tsp ground dhania
• 2 tsp pao bhaji masala (I only use half the quantity so that it's less spicy)
• 1/2 tsp ground fennel seeds (optional)

Others: 

• Oil for cooking onions
• Butter
• Pao!

COOKING INSTRUCTIONS:

• Heat a little oil in a pan and add chopped onion. Fry until the onions are brown. I used to earlier use a non-stick pan but switching to a thick bottomed stainless steel pan makes the bhaji much smoother.
• Add ginger and garlic and stir for a minute
• Add the tomatoes and cook on medium heat for a couple of minutes. Add 1/2 tsp salt and cover with a lid so that tomatoes become a little tender.
• Meanwhile, peel and mash potatoes and the steamed veggies. I generally grate them!
• When tomatoes start leaving oil, add the dry masala, stir and add the veg and potatoes. Cook on slow fire. Once nicely mixed add half a cup of water (more/ less depending on the texture that you want).
• Add 2 tsp of butter. I usually add half the quantity though! 
• Taste and adjust as per taste. Turn off the gas and add lemon juice if you want it to be tangier. On most days I find it to be fine without the lemon juice.
• Garnish with chopped onion, tomatoes and coriander leaves.
• Eat with buttered toast or pao.

Diary of an (almost) Mountain Girl

This post has been overdue for a few weeks now. In these weeks, several thoughts about what would comprise the content of this post have churned in my head endlessly. So much so that I don't know where to start anymore. Perhaps I should start by saying that I feel at home. 

The COVID situation aside, the other huge change that has happened in my life over the last few months is that I've gone to being a mountain girl from being a city girl. I haven't considered myself to be particularly lucky, but the fact that I moved to the mountains just a couple of weeks before the lockdown is a rather compelling argument against it. After spending a miserable couple of lockdown months of being at barely operational hotels, I finally managed to find a cozy rented place. A couple of social media posts about this achievement have led to endless queries from friends and family (and ex-colleagues, and just about anyone who has seen posts). Even though I suffer from the grandma syndrome (repeating the same story over and over again with the same amount of enthusiasm), it was getting a little bit out of hand. Hence the need for this grand post. A long stairway of forty-something steps leads to the house. Although a little tiring, it's a beautiful stretch with foliage on both sides. It looks rather dreamy on a rainy day and on the sunnier days it is absolutely stunning!

During my first visit to this place, I was charmed and breathless in equal measure. So much so that it completely slipped my mind that these beautiful concrete steps would gather moss during the rainy season. This particular slip-up caused close encounters with several situations where I escaped slipping on these stairs by a whisker. On one particular instance, I decided to wear my trekking shoes (pro-tip: trekking shoes and moss aren't really on friendly terms). About halfway I froze in terror. I knew that if I took one more step I would slip and break a bone or two. After having stood there for a full five minutes (and perspiring profusely), I decided to take the plunge ahead. I didn't take a fall that day but no points for guessing that my trekking shoes have been eating dirt ever since.

Once you brave the trek up, you reach the entrance to my house. It is a part of a bigger structure which houses the landlord and his family. The roof of my house serves as terrace for the landlord’s family. The entrance to my place sometimes reminds me on hobbit houses because it is noticeably smaller than the ordinary entrances. The ceiling is also quite low, so much so that when I extend my arm I can easily touch the ceiling. I’m 5’2”, so you do the math. 

In keeping with the general feel of this hobbit house that I inhabit, almost everything in the house is small too. This is especially true of the kitchen, which has a shared wall with the entrance to the house. It’s one of the tiniest kitchens that I’ve seen so accordingly all the utensils and storage containers are also super tiny. So are the cups in which I lovingly serve instant tea to guests who come over. The rather polite people who tend to be my guests are always visible surprises at the size of the cups that I serve tea in, even though they never voice their surprise. On the days that I’m feeling fancy I take out the fancy carafe that’s just about enough to brew two cups of fancy marigold-lemongrass green tea that has become a staple in my household. The water for either kind of tea is heated in my miniature of a kettle that sits comfortably over the deep red refrigerator. This fridge has been one of my more extravagant purchases here (other than the mattress, that is, but we will come to that in a bit). 

The kitchen space is a semi-enclosed space and the same area also houses a wooden table with four chairs. In my zeal to maintain the feel of the hobbit house I nearly discarded it to bring in a table about half the size of this one, but better (financial) sense prevailed. Now this area doubles up as my workspace; the table big enough to accommodate the all-in-one printer/copier/ scanner that I can’t operate without. Serendipitously, this is also the spot in the house that has the best network. 

The best part? When I sit at the table, the glass windows open up a beautiful view of the mountains. If you stand by it, you can see the flight of stairs leading up to the house and the main road where it connects. And the Shiva temple that has recently been renovated. On particularly cloudy days, the clouds simply barge in through the windows, intruding upon my privacy in the process. Bright sunny days are a very good reminder of the privilege that I have right now. To be honest, it’s a little surreal to be living in a place as charming as this. There are days when I find myself in a moment of disbelief. It is in these moments that I take a pause, soak in all the beauty and thank my lucky stars!

An integrated arts approach

So I've decided to get back to blogging after ages. Obviously, the restart had to happen with a very special entry. 

I’m both nervous and excited about this journal entry. Nervous because there’s so much to write about, that I’m not sure if I’ve even articulated it all in my head or not. Excited because oh god, why didn’t I do it already!

I’m sipping some green tea as I write this in the yellow light of the camphor diffuser in my room. It is only befitting that I play one of the thumris that have been repeatedly transporting me to another space and time. So I play Shubha Mudgal’s Balam Tere Jhagde Mein. The central idea of this thumri is nothing new. In fact, the idea has been used and re-used many, many times over. But to me, somehow this seems to be true. It manages to stir something inside of me in a way that no other expression of the same sentiment ever has. I can almost visualize myself as the nayika going through several intricate, interconnected emotions as she sings this thumri sitting under the dark night sky punctuated with stars.

There was a time when I used to relate to the kind of music that resonated with my current mood. Now the connection happens because the song evokes a particular emotion, which is free of the mood that I'm going through at that moment, or any particular memory or person. So even though I can visualize myself as the nayika, there is no nayak. Irrespective, the moment seems to be complete in itself.

The realization - that I feel differently as compared to most other people – is something that occurred to me much later in life. That the smallest things make me really happy. Or that I get hurt more deeply than others. That even my everyday emotions are more intense than what most other people feel at the most emotional moments. In college, I used to write poetry in Hindi. I’ve been trying to disown it for over a decade now (it exists in the digital world in the form of a blog), only to go back to it occasionally. I think this need to disown is rooted in two reasons – one, most of the ideas and expressions are quite clichéd and I’m truly embarrassed about those. But also because I don’t know of many people who would understand the truth of the emotion behind those. I don’t mean this as a comparison, but how many people connect with the gazillion emotions that the nayika goes through as she sings Balam Tere Jhagde Mein Rain Gayi?

I now hear the soulful voice of Prabha Atre, wondering Kaun Gali Gayo Shyam. A couple of months ago, when I still in Gurgaon, I was learning a thumri composition in my Kathak classes, in which Radha pleads to Krishna. I would always imagine myself as a rather irritated Radha. But as we started unraveling the layers of the composition, came the realization that how it is not a singular emotion but rather a cluster of ‘micro-emotions’. Radha is (mildly) irritated for sure, but there’s so much more than that. There’s love, lajja, pleading, helplessness, and so on. This is new because earlier I didn’t spend as much time with a composition to be able to ponder over all the different possibilities. So now when I hear Prabha Atre’s voice, it is not just a singular emotion that I sense. It’s a series of transitioning emotions culminating into a sort of euphoria that is created when you’re one with the art that you’re experiencing.

There’s more to this. In the last few months (during the lockdown), I was able to get myself a pair of ghunghroos and a space for riyaaz.  I’ve been devoting time to my daily riyaaz. I’ve realised for the first time that drut lay or tatkaar solah gun isn’t something to be afraid of or be intimidated by, but if befriended it can infuse you with energy. It feels as though some things have started coming together inside of me in ways I haven’t experienced before. For instance, Kaun Gali Gayo Shyam helped me in identifying and articulating certain bhaav that existed inside of me, but the dance vocabulary that I have built also helped me in expressing it through my body. Not just in terms of mudras and body movements, but also in terms of my facial expressions, body language, and so on. And it is probably the effect of my yoga sessions that as I wonder Kaun Gali Gayo Shyam that I pause to notice the deep exhale that corresponds with my sigh of having no knowledge where Krishna is. Sometimes I feel like this is one of the storytelling sessions that I do with kids. I pick up stories that resonate with me, because then when I’m reading those out to children, I’m not faking anything. I’m simply sharing with them how I truly feel about the story. This is important because I feel like children are very good at spotting the fake.

In an interesting turn of affairs, I’ve started relooking at all my Hindi poetry from over a decade ago. And I’ve started recording it in my voice. And in a moment of feeling/ emotion/ inspiration, I composed a new one just a few days ago. This came as a half-surprise. I mean come on, it's been there all along; I’ve tried to brush it under the carpet all this while. The part that did come as a surprise was that this is something that I can still do. I always thought that writing Hindi poetry was something that I did when I was younger and that all the ‘creative juices’ had dried up, but clearly not!

Growing up I mostly listened to Bollywood music, which included the likes of Kishore Kumar and Jagjit Singh. I attended weekend Kathak classes when I was in primary and middle school, but most memories of the classes included dancing to the beats of the tabla. There was some exposure to folk music through wedding songs and so on. There were also occasional community meets where performing artists were invited to present plays on themes like Meera or perform a Rajasthani dance sequence.

I think my first close exposure to Hindustani Classical Music was through what I am going to call commercial classical music. I think some credit to Bollywood is due here. I can actually think of two specific movies – the first one is Devdas. God knows how many times over I listened to the entire album! At this point, I’m struggling to remember an earlier or more powerful memory of music having an indescribable effect on me. Listening to certain tracks would lead my mood to spiral downhill, into a state of sadness that would last a while (I want to use the word mood vacuum here, but I don’t know if that makes any sense!). To this date, I’m wary of listening to more than a couple of tracks from this movie at one go. The other movie is Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, primarily for its composition Albela Sajan. I really liked the ‘mood’ of the song, only to realize very recently that the ‘mood’ of the songs is evoked by the raga of a composition. So I now know that I enjoy certain ragas quite a bit. I’m also beginning to understand my preference for certain types of compositions. For example, when I first listened to a thumri, I didn’t realize that my liking wasn’t simply for that particular composition but that it extended to the entire genre of thumris. And now I know I like Shringar Ras compositions.

I don’t think I can bring this entry to a close without a mention of Pt. Kumar Gandharv. About 3 years ago,  Hindustani Classical Music was completely foreign territory. I first heard a Meera bhajan that his grandson, Bhuvanesh Komkali, was teaching to some school kids. I still don’t know what was so special about it all – was it because I was with all those school kids in the room flooded with sunlight? Was the magic of Kumar Ji’s music and the fact that his grandson told me that his grandfather used to sing this to him when he was very young? Or was I simply carried away with the bhaav of the nayika captured in the lyrics? But it did leave a deep impression on my mind and my heart. I was so overwhelmed that I remember having to fight back my tears. I didn’t quite manage to find a recording of the bhajan, but I heard it at a couple of concerts after that – one at an auditorium and another one online, and I choked up on both these occasions.

About six months ago, a friend shared some gems from his music collection. These included some thumris – I listened to a few of those and I just couldn’t shake off the feeling of intoxication! He also shared a collection of Kumar Ji’s Nirgun Bhajans and I felt that there was a certain sense of simplicity and truthfulness about them, which made me feel at home. These didn’t intimidate me the way most other classical music does and  I wondered why that was the case.

Then almost as though by design, during the lockdown period, I chanced upon a fantastic collection of essays written about Kumar Ji's music. A couple of things stayed with me – that how he was a child prodigy, but also a huge question mark on the tradition of Hindustani Classical Music. That his music was that of struggle. That the ‘truth’ in his compositions was by design. That he wasn’t just a singer, but a poet, a painter but many other things rolled into one. A lot of things suddenly started making sense after reading just a couple of chapters. There was a distinct realization that what really is the aim of an integrated approach in the arts and how does it bring together the various parts of an individual together as a ‘whole’ in terms of mind and soul. This also means that music isn’t just another thing that I’m setting out to do, but it’s an integral part of the journey that I’ve already embarked upon! 

Book Review - Dream Writer (Tulika Books)

Book: Dream Writer
Publisher: Tulika Books
Author: Sandhya Rao
Illustrator: Tanvi Bhat

The story of Dream Writer revolves around the protagonist Shobha, who sees varied, colorful dreams with unusual characters – a boy who talks to fishes, furry cats and the sound of clacking needles. However, she is always woken up before she can see the end. She’s eager to know how all of her dreams end. A conversation with her English teacher helps her in navigating through her complex flights of fantasy. 

But this girl with adventurous night-time dreams is physically disabled. The interesting bit – there is no explicit mention of this anywhere in the text (the closest word to describing this is ‘wheeling’, but since there is hardly any other context provided, it is easy to miss this). The focus is always on Shobha and the discovery and expression of her dream world. That she is disabled is sort of a ‘hidden’ element of the story, and the text relies on the illustrations quite heavily to convey this. If ones read the text without the illustrations, it could be the story of any child.

The first prominent visual of the wheelchair features when the story is already halfway through, lending it some shock value. When I read the book, I was distinctly surprised to see the wheelchair – so much so that I flipped through the previous pages to see if I had missed any clues and indeed I had. The wheelchair was there in the previous pages too – the handles of the wheelchair appear in the background when Shobha is introduced for the first time. It appears again on the page where she is looking out of the window. I was really intrigued by this – was it by intention that the wheelchair did not feature prominently up to a certain point? So I decided to conduct a little experiment. I read out the story to a friend (a theatre artist). He too noticed the wheelchair only when Shobha is actually shown sitting in it.

The other interesting thing was that I felt a change in my reaction once I realised that Shobha was a disabled child. Neither the cover nor the book description had prepared me for this. Suddenly the story became more than just the story of a young girl with unusual dreams. It felt as though there was a distinct need to take notice because there is a certain way that you’re supposed to feel about a text like this. After some reflection, I felt good that there had been an attempt to portray Shobha as a child first and then a person with disability. Her days are relatively normal – her sister ‘kicks’ her out of bed, her father chides her about dreaming distractedly as he shaves in the morning, her cousins falling over each other and so on. A review by Prabha Ram captures this beautifully: “The slightly poignant touch added to the pictures reveals a parallel thread that the reader sees unfolding – a hidden story element that does not needlessly parade pity, but one that speaks the state as is and deserves five stars for the not-at-all-heavy handling of it.”

My response to this book has evolved through multiple readings. There are other elements which I’ve started taking notice of. In her dreams (which are often a reflection of the subconscious), Shobha is always portrayed as a person without physical disabilities. In a book which relies so heavily on illustration to bring out the theme without stating it explicitly, this makes it feel like there is something that doesn’t add up. While on one hand dreams are supposed to be ‘dreamy’ places which don’t always reflect reality, on the other hand this portrayal runs the risk of suggesting that the ideal or aspirational state for a physically disabled person is to be ‘normal’ (as is reflected through her dreams). 

The text also made me partially re-live the feeling of bafflement that unusual dreams leave behind, just like the illustration in which all of Shobha’s dreams come together – beautiful, but somewhat messy. Not everything made sense at one go and I had to go back several times to be able to connect all the different threads. Just like dreams. 

I would use this book with the age group 8-10 years for a read-aloud activity and open it for discussion afterwards. I think the book provides the opportunity to talk to children about two things in particular – to talk and think about their own dreams and explore their feelings about those. Second and more importantly, it can help open up a discussion around disability. Some of the prompts to help open up the discussion could be:

On Dreams:

• Why do we dream? What do dreams mean? 
• Do you the dreams that you have seen?
• Why did Shobha dreamt about the things that she dreamt about?
• Did you connect with any of her dreams?
• Did any dream illustration stand out to you?

On Disability:

• Would the story be any different if Shobha wasn’t disabled?
• When was the first time in the story that you realised that Shobha is physically disabled? Did you feel any differently when they found this out?
• Have you noticed a difference in people’s attitudes towards differently abled people? How would you feel if you had a friend like Shobha?

This article was first published on Parag's blog (https://www.paragreads.in/dream-writer/ on 12 June 2020)

Notes from setting up Ayang Trust Library - Part 1

I’m lying down on a black and red mattress as I write this. Two mattresses, actually. Just finished lunch. Today was a relatively easy day. I got up at seven, made some breakfast and lunch, went grocery shopping, gave instructions to the artist who’s been brought in to do some artwork on the walls. It’s something from a book called Little Laali by Tulika Books I think. I’ve picked out the image where the little girl is getting drenched in the rain. The artist has already sketched the painting and will return tomorrow to do the paintwork. One of the painters is covering the layers of brick and cement with plaster. As we ate lunch, we talked about the rigor that traditional theatre requires. So much is still left to do! I’m seriously wondering if everything would be done by 20th August, the launch date for the library.

A packet as arrived today from Delhi, from Mridula. What a coincidence! I gladly opening it, to discover a treasure of Duckbill books. These would be a wonderful addition to the library. I really hope that someday children start reading these, because these are probably beyond their current reading level. The library here is going to be for everyone. This is a two-room and balcony space for Ayang Trust. On rent, I think. The balcony space is for the library. The place is still under construction so I’ve become involved in decisions like what would be the display area, what the shelves would look like etc. the carpenters here haven’t worked on a project like this before so I’m also getting into finer details like width of the shelves, incline, gap (vertical) between two shelves and so on. It is quite interesting, although exhausting at the same time. The carpenter primarily speaks Assamese/ Mising which I’m totally clueless about. So usually someone is required to translate so that we can communicate. We decide to put shelves on three walls - all on one side (the only permanent/ brick wall side that the room has). I’m a little concerned about the fact that there is a tap very close to one of the shelves (maybe 3-4 ft). I would ideally like to not have the shelf this close to the tap, but we don’t really have much of an option.

Shelves:

• Width: 8”
• Gap: 4”
• Shelf Height: 1 ft/ 1.5 ft

The place has bamboo vegetation all around and that will reflect in the library space as well. 3 out of 4 walls would be partially/ fully made of bamboo structures. On two sides are drop-down bamboo curtains and the third would be a fixed bamboo wall. We’re also going to have plants in the corridor, right next to the stairs,

The teacher in charge here is Rakesh, from The Hummingbird School. He is already familiar with some aspects of the library and is especially excited about displays. He has also done accession numbers for Tulika Books that the team at Ayang Trust has procured.

The Wind and the Stars

I knew that if the car came to a sudden stop I'd end up breaking a bone or two. But in that moment, nothing else mattered. All I could feel was the slight chill in the wind that crashed against my face as the car raced along. And his fingers entwined with mine. I was standing through the sunroof and looking at the road ahead, quite drunk on happiness.

"Can you see more stars now?" he gently asked. I don't remember him parking the car along the roadside. Just this, that when I looked up, I saw a zillion stars twinkling against a dark sky. I rested my back against the roof of the car and stared. It was beautiful. I tried to remember when was the last time I did that, but couldn't. I thought I'd thank him when I was slightly less tipsy.

I'm guessing that it was a while before we said goodbye, because I don't remember that either. "I'm glad you came", he said. I was glad too, I told him. What I didn't tell him was that I was going to remember the wind and the stars for a really long time.