Our Pongal

The last we celebrated Pongal in our traditional way i.e. cooking in firewood stove, was five years back, on the terrace of our native home in Adyar. Surrounded by close family members, we settled for a firewood stove, enclosed in bricks, and placing a new mud pot atop and calling Pongalo Pongal as the Pongal (boiled rice/milk) overflows the pot, it was quite delight as we ever so directly celebrated the festival under sunlight. Pongal is a festival celebrated esp. to thanksgiving the sun for it’s entice source of energy and other natural elements for helping farmers in good harvesting. Not only farmers, Pongal is believed to bring auspicious to everyone, the way Pongal boils over the pot.

Mom's Pongal Kolam, - in front of the gateway

Shifted to an individual house in 2013, I planned to celebrate the festival in more traditional flavor, bringing my dear ones into another cheerful enclosure of firewood, mud pot and sugarcanes. But nothing worked out and I couldn't make anything as I wished, as I myself suffered with the fracture in my femur. This year, still living in an individual house with enough space to make firewood stove, we went ahead to celebrate the festival, in our personal interest, as it was not possible to recreate a then moment.  I think personally, Pongal is a social festival and it should be celebrated by all together. Not only Pongal, but I think every festival is celebrated to bring togetherness and sharing.

Follows our Pongal Pot: 

 

 

My celebrations and memories of Bhogi!

Among the festivals we celebrate, Bhogi has been my favourite one once, next to Deepavali/Diwali. A day ahead to Pongal – the harvesting festival of Tamils – Bhogi (Jan 14)  is celebrated according to an old phrase in Tamil: “Pazayana Kazithalum Puthiyana Puguthalum” which means discarding the oldest and let in newest, in all possible ways. Though the way of celebrating Bhogi has changed latterly from the real cause, which is relevant to cleaning up and replacing old seed grains in the storehouse with newly harvested. The generation of ours and the previous ones celebrate it simply by lighting a bonfire, at the dawn, with the old and useless woods and materials related to same.

Pic shot back in 2007 (my last witness to bhogi)

My Bhogi celebrations with bonfire have ended even before the beginning of 21st century or age less than 15-16. It was a time I wasn't conscious about much anything, including the pollution of environment and endanger of fire, and liked burning things without an idea. Though we haven’t burnt tyres or plastic things, or to say literally, my mom never let us uses tyres despite having many in my uncle’s workshop. We usually put card-boards and old cartons into fire, along with household items like worn out grass mats, broomsticks and winnowing baskets. In our street we are the only to make bonfires – as most residents are faith in different and modest – but compared to our neighbors in backyard, who set huge blazes and light tyres, we put less flame.

I think it is the passion for Bhogi influenced me to always wish for bonfire whenever I visit a hill station or mountain landscape with chillness. Bhogi, being the last day of the Tamil month Margazhi, which is a midwinter time here, the bonfires produce enough warm to bask during the cold winter dawn. Personally I used to look forward to this day, as previous celebrations haunt me while festival nears and more than burning things, gathering along with friends make it keen. What is there a festival without some sound? And having a bonfire in front of us how can we miss a beat? Of course, beating the skin drum is a part of the Bhogi which is impossible to forget.

One doesn't need to be skillful of these drums, which is made of bovine skin covering a terracotta ring, but whoever takes the small skin drum is a composer on their own gesture of hands. Waking up early in the morning we keep beating the drum, heating it often by showing on the bonfire flame so that the skin become tight and make loud noise. And we don’t stop there, but go further around the area beating the drums with friends until it quite dawn. For some time or until the Pongal holidays end, we take the drum and beat whenever it feels and sometime heat the drum on the gas stove. Few times I have saved the drum to beat next year by hiding it somewhere, if unbroken, because  parents don’t allow to have skin products at home.

My brother mostly get two drum each year, as he will broke it very soon it was bought, we sometime fight for the one, if drums anymore available. Because the accessible to these drum are limited for a day or two with Bhogi and we used to get it from the pot-pan makers in our area.  Usually we use to beat the drum with a stick removed from the coconut broom, but many used to stick tar to the tip of theirs. Seeing those I too wished having a similar one but except couple of occasions (to my memory) I couldn't make it out. One of my memorable trails with Bhogi was carried out to the streets. During an occasion we (friends) took a cycle tyre from a bonfire in the neighborhood and carried out along our way to show heat to the drums.

I have seen some people used to boil water with the last bit of fire on the bonfire to take hot shower on the cold winter morning. On this day households carry out cleaning process and some whitewash their house with fresh coat of paint. I spent the Bhogi only once at my grandfather/mother place and being a congested/crowded residential area, the festival is light up heavily and waking the street in barefoot means dyeing in black. Many residents there burn mostly tyres and at the entrance of each by-lane a pile of ashes would wait to spread all over the tar road. These years I almost forget there was a day like this! But memories...  

Insists

Change is a thing obviously everyone needed and hence to beat boredom or to be frustrated, a change in environment or activity is must at least. For a Chennaitie or whoever lives in a coastal town/city, the first thing comes to mind of escaping could be the beaches, if there isn’t malls, restaurants and events happening around. A place just to relax, breathe in fresh air or sit ideal watching the waves and things happening around, in random, is an entertainment unplanned.

Last week I went to Elliot’s Beach and in the usual way spent something sitting inside the car parked in front of the promenade.  Though it’s good to see new faces and people from various walks, there are certain things keep disturbing. The average fee collected for cars to park at Elliot’s beach is 5 ₹ and 10 ₹ for vans, but what they insist was 20 ₹, that too without producing a ticket. My dad, who is a regular walker at Elliot’s beach, had come across the board, that mention the exact ticket price which is only five, many times, but what they insist is against the regulation of corporation.

The other day when we parked the car, the person in charge demanded 10 ₹ by placing a ticket valued for just 5 ₹... No matter where the partial amount goes, but how dare they bring it into force without any hesitance or thing to prove their price is fair. I think the amount they collect differs from person to person, and anyone dare to deceive could easily implement their task. Among them I find few genuine people like the one who (understanding - with the number plate - that we are from the local) gave us excuse from paying even the fair amount.

If the parking system was like this, the mobile vendors who do business along the promenade have touched the worst state of ever. Already the beauty of Elliot’s beach has lost its charm to the occupation of number of shops/eateries spread all over the sandy beach. Though I am not dared to explore the eateries to put my health at risk, I always go with the bordering items like peas and peanuts. But this time I was quite surprise to note when I bough peanuts (plain nuts), it was very less than usual and priced doubled i.e. from 10 to 20 ₹. But what really bothered me much was what I heard from my dad who came back the vendor...

He has been insisting 150 ₹ from a foreigner to get slices of spicy mango! ...expressed provoke and anger. Even a whole mango doesn’t cost more than 10 ₹ and however rich in class they doesn’t going to extend more than 50 ₹, but in which way a few slices spread with spice become special for him to insist such amount. Whoever let it be, fairness is oneness and just being fair and came  far away from isn’t we have to be cruel or scare them to never turn back. Let us be smart and generous to consumers whichever country and skin tone they bore.

I don’t understand why there’s so price difference between local/national resident and international visitors. Not only tourist places, but I guess at every level/layer foreigners have to pay more than the amount Indian pays. Let’s keep away the economic boon perhaps involved it in, but what comes with food and restaurants? Why do we need to make big holes in their pockets just because they are foreigners? Food is an essential of life and there shouldn’t be partiality/discrimination at least with the price tag at eateries. I don’t know does it happen with every other country in the world or we Indians alone insist this pattern. But I wish we become a moral example to be fair enough at least with eateries. When we say globalization, I wonder why there’s still differentiation. 

Sunday Photo: A monkey peek

Sitting on a Neem tree at the backyard of the home, the monkey looks down at who shoots him alike. Yesterday I come across a bunch of monkeys, wandered around the neighborhood and it was fun to watch their acrobat took place over the cable wires that pass our house. The bigger ones just march past the street with younger ones made a beeline across the cables. 

Another red letter box and gate from neighborhood

Perhaps, you all know my love for red letter box which used to be my favorite thing from childhood. My neighborhood has many houses with letter box to drag my attention towards their gate and they aren't quite red and I also find some milk boxes similar to letter boxes but in blue.

Following my previous post on the red letter box, I received few calls from the friends to send my address in regard receiving a card as intention of love and harmony. I really feel gratitude for their sweet gesture and taking time to make a handy note sense touch. While the technology has reached a height unimagined, receiving card through post feels quite nostalgic!

The red letter box in picture above belongs to the neighbor opposite to our house. Since we are 10 months old to this area, though it isn't new for us being a native to same, they are the only family (of four) to share few words and exchange smiles occasionally. They have been a resident of this area for more than 20 years and the letter box is hanged to the gate in front of their doorstep.

To add an additional gate image to the post, I link to Run a Round Ranch’s Good Fences, is the aluminium plated gate (of the same house) that enclose their car park.