Sweet Thoughts

Boy Wonder
This little roadside stall was positioned outside the Raash Mela in Cooch Behar. The boy must have been adding a special finishing touch to the sweets!



'Sweety' is the name of the sweet shop in Falakata where we saw these irresistible little gems. It is a well known haunt for sweet-crazy folks. The shop does great Channa Bhatura on Sunday mornings, too. We asked these two gentlemen who run the place what the sweet is called. It doesn't have any name, apparently. It is a sort of cham-cham, that's very spongy and sugary. And it tastes every bit as good as it looks.



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In the Nursery

Buying flower and vegetable seeds and seedlings for the cold weather necessitates a long road trip to Siliguri or to Mal Bazaar. It’s a bit like an annual pilgrimage. We (women) obsess and worry about whether we'll be too late in the year to plant, whether we'll get seeds, whether the seeds we do get will germinate, and what the weather will be like. A friend's husband asked us why we did it at all if it was so painful. Men never understand that we love to complain to them about the things that we really like doing. We enjoy the whining as much as we do the planning, purchasing, and the planting itself.

I like visiting the Paul Nursery in Mal Bazaar to pick up seedlings and seeds. It’s a favourite haunt with most tea garden people. I first visited the nursery in 1988, and have been a regular there ever since.

Paul Nursery was established in 1957 by Mr. Jyotirmoy Paul. He is in his late seventies now, but is actively involved in the daily business of running the nursery.
He remembers every one of his regular customers. It is obvious that his family reveres him. They all pitch in and work there, collecting and packing seedlings for customers, watering and tending the plants, writing out bills and so on. No one ever rushes around in a hurry or talks loudly. They answer all the customers’ questions about plant care patiently. Mr. Paul has given me some great tips over the years. This time I met his young grandson (in the picture, with his parents and grandfather), who was home on leave from his army posting, and helping the old folks out. The nursery’s a good place to spend some time in, just walking about and looking around. It isn’t a ‘garden’ but it fits my idea of what a garden should be like – it soothes and relaxes the spirit. There’s a sense of order and of peace. The courteous welcome, the presence of the family, and the old world atmosphere make each visit a happy experience.

Jalpaiguri : Jurassic Park and Lost World

Sitting on a Park Bench


Topiary


This Was : The Jalpaiguri Club


Sunset over the Teesta River


Three Friends

These are pictures I took on a visit to Jalpaiguri town. This town came up when tea was planted in the region in the nineteenth century. It was almost destroyed when the Teesta River flooded it in 1968. Businesses moved out and relocated to Siliguri. Jalpaiguri is still the headquarters of the district administration, and the 'official' quarter of the town is full of colonial buildings. The Teesta flows to its south now, behind an embankment.

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Sick of Life? Try Well of Death!

The 'Well of Death', when I saw it in my childhood, was a part of the circus. It was a huge hollow globe made of stout iron wire mesh. A man would drive a motorcyle all around it, speeding up in no time to a dizzying momentum. He'd ride circles in all directions while the motocycle roared like an angry lion, and everything around it shook and rattled terrifyingly.

A favourite story in our family is about our mother's youngest brother disappearing from home one evening when he was a college student. He went along to the circus and rode the motorbike around the Well of Death, and then came back casually as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened! He must have had a deep understanding of the physics of it all, and such guts too!



These four handsome young men are daredevils if I ever saw any. Between them they rode two Maruti cars and two motorcycles in this Well of Death (picture below), which was the biggest draw at the Mela that was here recently.


This structure is made up of boards, which in turn are made of wooden planks nailed together. It didnt look too solid to me. See the gaps between the planks, and lights shining through from little holes here and there? The structure, which includes staircases, and a gallery with a railing around the top, is assembled at every location that the travelling fair visits. It takes four to five days to set it all up at each venue, said the organiser of the show.


Here's what it looked like from outside.


Took some courage even to climb this staircase of angle iron - but I didn't let on!
They must be doing a thorough job of setting it up; the boys drove without a fear. Two of them, I was told, were the sons of the owner of the show. Well that was an act of good faith! But I didn't care what my husband said about it being a simple matter of centripetal and centrifugal forces, and of the chances of an accident being close to nil. I was terrified throughout. The boys started up their cars and bikes, and climbed easily on to the wooden surface, which was almost perpendicular to the ground. They then raced madly around in circles, climbing higher and higher, until everything was shaking and rattling deafeningly like a high intensity earthquake. They were so close you could have reached out and touched them from the viewers' gallery right on top. That was about forty feet from the ground up.

As if all that weren't enough, one of the bike riders casually let go of the handlebars, and moved his frame so that he was sitting side saddle. He crossed his legs and studied his nails in a great show of nonchalance. The crowd loved it. Then the boys driving the cars opened their doors, drove side by side, and held hands. The next act - of unnecessary cheek - was the car drivers standing up, with only their feet inside the car. They rested their heads on their arms on the tops of the cars, feigning bored sleep!! I found myself wondering what could ever give them a high after this experience.

Not for the faint hearted! But no wonder the show was such a draw - see how eagerly these young girls climbed up to the gallery!

Fair and Lovely : The Mela

The Mela arrives in Banarhat town every October, in time for Durga Puja. This travelling fair has around four hundred and fifty people moving with it. Before Diwali, the Mela moves east to the town of Hamiltonganj. Its next stop is the Raas Mela in Cooch Behar. In Banarhat, the Mela is located in the extensive grounds of the Bengali High School. The area is roughly the size of two football fields!

The Mela includes a Meena Bazaar, which features stalls selling pickles and preserves, bangles and trinkets, toys, ceramics and household stuff like plastic containers, cast-iron garden and kitchen tools, handbags and carrybags. There were more than a hundred and fifty stalls there this year. It is the biggest attraction in the region for tea garden workers and their families, and for the people who live in small towns nearby.


This youngster barely noticed that I was taking his picture - he was lost in his own world. All these pictures were taken with my husband's Sony Ericsson phone. In all the excitement of going to the Mela, I forgot to pick up my camera. No regrets, though. The phone camera doesn't have a flash, and so all the pictures are lit with whatever light there was - sometimes bright and white, sometimes yellow.


This young man above insisted on seeing his picture, and said he liked it!


What an array of munchies. They were absolutely delicious.


I loved the long-handled spoon which this man used to make his 'special mixture'.


The umbrella repair man is hard at work! These little figurines are made of clay. They are so realistic and so colourful. I noticed my face in the picture, later - reflected in a mirror while I was clicking!


Mouthwatering. Bamboo shoots, limes, mangoes, berries like 'ber' and 'karaunda', chillies, garlic and ginger - hot pickles, sweet pickles and tangy chutneys - these boys had everything in their stall. All these pickles, I was told, are made in village homes. The buyers include customers like us who buy small quantities, as well as firms who buy in bulk, then bottle and market them.


The little boy was so happy he was being photographed. On my second visit, he greeted me with a delighted, 'Oye!'


The gentleman above is a Lifestyle Guru of sorts. A real fairground character, he seemed to exercise some power over us all - his patter had us standing at his stall for so long. He had crystals, magnets, feng shui charms, and gizmos to massage aching limbs.


A stall that actually admits to imitation!



The Mela had several food stalls, a number of rides and games, and a dance show by performers dancing to Bollywood music, which I heard was a huge hit!




This Magic Show tent is a regular feature. It used to be a great favourite when the girls were little. The magician not only sells you tricks, he takes you into a little partitioned section of his tent, and teaches you how they're done!



Chief organiser Barun Babu - ever smiling!

My WorldTuesday showcases many worlds. See them here.

Free Some Day

Burning eyes and the excitement of catching the American election news on CNN early this morning brought back memories of another election, one which took place more than twenty-one years ago.

New Delhi, March 20th, 1977, early morning:
My Dad sitting with his ear close to the old Pye Radio, on which the BBC newsreader's crackling shortwave voice announced the unbelievable, all the way from London. The Emergency was over. Indira Gandhi had lost the election and resigned.
My brother, telling us he'd gone to the University everyday during the Emergency singing, 'Free some day, yeah, free some day, yeah, we'll all be free some day.'
Now we were. Never mind that All India Radio did not make any announcements until much later in the day.
No election has roused as much enthusiasm and spirit in me as that one did. My father was wise enough to realise that the revocation of the Emergency in the last minutes of her rule had been Indira Gandhi's cleverest move. He still looked thoughtful while we rejoiced.

Watching Americans weeping with joy after the election results were announced, my elder daughter asked, 'Why cant we feel so much patriotism?’ to which her Dad replied, 'It takes a war or a cricket match to make us feel patriotic.' I like to think that a day will come when a young person will lead our country, too. That day, I am sure our politicians will not be dressed in sleepwear, as they are today.

Our Cha Bagan Diwali

The first sign of Diwali in the Dooars is the sight of Mt.Kanchenjunga against clear blue skies.
Diwali is a fusion of many elements in the Dooars. The Dooars is like a mini- India, and the political climate is not exactly idyllic these days. Yet, its people have a long-standing history of harmonious coexistence, and that has survived here through turbulent times in past years.
Diwali celebrations in the Dooars are spread out over four to five days. What I find most charming about a tea garden Diwali is the quiet atmosphere in all the bustle of activity, and the total darkness against which Diwali lamps and lights sparkle.
It is customary to clean out and spruce up the house before Diwali lights are lit. Our bungalow gets a small face-lift every year, and every worker in the garden gets some 'choona' - lime - and a day off, to whitewash his house. It is the time when we are in the frenzy of sowing seeds for winter vegetables and flowers as well.
When our children are home for Diwali, we get to see a fine Rangoli like this one, over which they slave for a few hours, and very happily, too.

The rangoli all lit up on Diwali night, and below, in detail.


Diwali night invariably coincides with Kali Puja. The Kali Mandir is filled with worshippers, and often the Puja goes on through the night.
For most people in India, the second day of the new moon is Bhai Dooj. Here, it is celebrated as Bhai Phota by Bengalis and Nepalis. Sisters felicitate their brothers, and put a 'tika' on their foreheads, and pray for their long lives. The traditional Nepali goodie at this time is the 'Sil Roti', which is made from rice paste. If Durga Puja brings Bhog Khichdi to mind, Kali Puja means warm sil roti and spicy chutney on chilly evenings. And this, after we've eaten Diwali sweets and mixture, is a welcome change of taste!
For the Adivasi residents of tea gardens, it is the time for 'Jatra'; a song and dance celebration. Groups of men, women and children go around the garden after nightfall, singing, dancing and playing drums.


The groups traditionally visit the Bara Saab and Chhota Saabs at their bungalows, perform for them and pull them in to dance with them, as they did with us.

Below, a video which our elder daughter took of one of the energetic dances, while we tried to keep pace with the dancers. The drum beats are wonderful!

Two Silhouettes

SkyWatch Friday


Sunrise on the Morning of the Harvest Moon


Samtse Sunset

One evening, we went for a ramble in the little town of Samtse, Bhutan. Up in those hills, the sky seemed so much closer.

Please click on each picture for an enlarged view.
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Brownie Points!

Gone are the days when every Burra Bungalow in tea had a cook who would bake all the bread its occupants needed. Even so, we had dear old Baruah baking all our bread for us less than fifteen years ago. Baruah and his contemporaries are no more, but I do know of some chai memsaabs who turn out very good bread at parties or club 'do's. I've tried many times, with fresh yeast, dried yeast, and ready to use powdered yeast. And realised that bread making was great, but it was not for me.

When my younger daughter started saying she wouldn't eat any refined flour (or Maida, as we call it in any number of Indian languages), I had to start substituting it with wholemeal, or atta. We can't get brown bread anywhere in the Dooars, and we can only find it once in a while in Siliguri. Even then, it isn’t convincingly brown - it looks as if it's been coloured!

I started turning out simple breads from 'The Good Housekeeping Cookbook' and 'Woman's Weekly Magazine' recipes to fulfil this new demand for brown bread. Here I should make something very clear. I'm not a very industrious or self-sacrificing person. A recipe has to be quick and simple if I'm to try it out. No one ever tells my family how lucky they are to have this earth-mother-goddess turning out amazing food for them all the time. And there is no danger of it ever happening either. Wholemeal scone rounds and wholemeal picnic lunch loaves have simple, two-step recipes. I wouldn’t touch them if they didn't. The breads are all baked with baking powder as the leavening agent, and though delicious (if the recipe is followed correctly), they tend to be a little heavier than yeast breads.

And then Jayati, a friend who is much younger than me, said they'd been baking their own brown bread, with fresh yeast bought in small quantities from the bakery in Hamiltonganj, a town close to their garden. Her enthusiasm infected me. Should I try, just one more time? I bought 100 grams of fresh yeast from the bakery in Banarhat town, and opened the 'Good Housekeeping Cookbook' again. I found a wholemeal bread recipe that doesn't call for the dough being 'proved', or allowed to rise, twice. It is all done in one shot. Mix, knead, prove, rest, and bake. Hmm. Right up my street - and there's even a 'rest' thrown in there. So I went at it with great energy. Kneading and pumelling the dough was a fantastic stress buster. To my delight, we got lovely, soft, delicious brown loaves. See the picture? The husband said that he would no longer worry about what to do if the tea industry came upon bad times - he could run his wife's bakery shop.

SkyWatch Football

Last week, I put my sunrise and sunset pictures aside for the time being, and went to a football match with camera in hand. The match had some exciting moments, but we found time to look at these lovely skies as well.

Centre Field

Shoot!


Word Games

Half-Time

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Top of the Morning to you!

Wonder what this little guy is called. He was sitting so still; he didn't even disturb the dewdrops on the blades of grass. This is my frist time with a camera critter. The subject posed most obligingly. You'll find many shots of camera critters here.