Knowing where your food comes from

Two weeks ago, I had to move to another home since I had to vacate my better furnished and more beautiful room to accomodate a German couple. My hostess was pretty upset that I was leaving but I did not mind much because the new home was less than 100 meters away and I could drop by my old home almost everyday (and I still do). What I did not realize was the home-grown food that I was going to miss. And the tasty natural milk from the cows. And a chance to sit in front of the fire and wait for the milk to slowly come to a boil as I knit my scarf. A farmer's home is a lot more different as it is generally more active with a lot of work to be done, come rain or shine. There is cowdung to be cleared and taken to the fields, there is grass to be cut for the cows, goats to be taken care of, weeds to be cleared, seeds to be planted and plants to be watered.

The knowledge of where our food comes from does make a difference and can add to the satisfaction of a good meal. The closer it comes from, the less is the distance between us and our food (especially our daily meals). As my friend and roomie noted, when you eat with your hand instead of a spoon, it feels much better since you have nothing between you and your food. She being a European hadn't been exposed to eating with hands. I was impressed by her observation and the clarity with which she put her thought across. More so because English is not her native language. Coming back to food, my current hostess does grow some potatoes and greens, but nothing like having a larger land where you grow green peas, rajma, beans, methi, radish, onion, garlic, etc.. Additionally, the green house accomodates some exotic stuff like raspberries and brinjal (I call brinjal exotic because I do not remember seeing one in the last one month!).

The other advantage of having fields/gardens is that the cycle gets completed for kitchen waste. No food gets wasted, more so when there are cows. Even in my current home, food waste is given to neighbours who have cows, but the whole feeling is different. It is similar to living in urban areas where we live in small isolated islands, not knowing where food comes from and where the waste goes.
Though groups like DailyDump and MySunnyBalcony are doing a very job of closing this loop in individual homes with their composting solutions and urban gardens, there is still a long way to go. What worries me however, is that these beautiful villages are making the same mistake as their urban counterparts as families are either becoming smaller or are moving to towns and cities making fields and cows difficult to maintain. But, I also see hope as a few committed individuals like the people in the women's collective I am interning with have kept up their struggle to maintain what they have realized is important to them - their connnection with their land and everything that it produces.

Language and lifeskills paying off (literally)

When I considered spending a few months in Munsiyari, I asked Malika about learning/working opportunities with Maati(the local women's collective)/Himal Prakriti (a local trust to preserve local bio-diversity). Though she welcomed me, she could not promise anything on the earning front. How could she? I do not have any specialist skills that could help me earn anything worthwhile here.. or so I thought and hence came here without any expectations.

Within a few days of seeing my enthusiasm and my work (!!), I was being considered for the next funded project in the pipeline. Even as we discussed the timelines for one of these projects, I found myself working as a research assistant on a German research project on student migration in the valley. I am not new to surveys and data collection, but the reason I got included in the project makes me laugh! Since I am the only intern who knows both Hindi and English and is available to work on this project right now, I am part of it along with a local and together we are collecting migration related data in the neighboring villages.

What amuses me is that I barely manage to communicate in Hindi (though I can understand quite well and enjoy watching movies) and the less said about my grammar, the better. Hindi is a language that I learnt on my own (with some help from dad) when I was 9 years old and when I think of it now, it makes me feel proud. When I changed my school in my 4th standard, the new school had Hindi since 1st standard so I had to catch up with them. I still remember the day I cried as I wrote the Hindi alphabet as an answer to all the Hindi questions asked in the entrance exam. Since I was good at the other subjects, I did get admitted into the new school. I spent the whole of my 3rd standard holidays learning Hindi from "Learn Hindi in 30 days" and also by watching TV. Even with all this, my Hindi is still pretty bad though I put on a fake confidence when I have to manage in Hindi speaking areas. This same Hindi now helps me earn a few hundred rupees per day and it covers a major portion of my living expenses here for a few weeks. Thank life for the small mercies!

Another skill that is paying off is my driving. Though I have an interest in learning new stuff, I must admit that I am a pretty slow learner. Almost a decade ago, I went for driving classes and then I went again after a couple of years. Since we did not have a car then, I lost touch. I took lessons again, this time with my brother in our Bolero. I remember he waking me up at 5 am and there I was, a little girl in a big car, half asleep and half scared trying to learn the dreaded half-clutch. My friends threatened to not accompany me unless I drove at a speed of more than 20 km/hr. But, I did not give up and finally reached the stage of getting compliments for my driving. Today, I am 'world-famous' in Munsiyari as probably the only female taxi driver in Munsiyari because I happened to drive a couple of tourists around since the regular driver wasn't available. It was my first driving experience in the hill side, and except for a small glitch (the half-clutch again!), I think I did a decent job at my new part-time job. I received a payment of Rs. 300 for a couple of hrs of driving (plus free entry to the local museum, some compliments and many raised eyebrows). On the way back, I offered a lift to a local till my village. She refused because I had already gone past my village - I hadn't noticed it as I couldn't properly gauge the distance by car and all houses looked the same for the first few days :)

A typical day in Munsiyari

I thought a good way to start writing about my experiences at Munsiyari would be to describe a typical day here. But, the fact is, there seems to be no such thing as a typical day.

When I came here more than a week ago, I was down with fever and hadn't eaten in 2 days. I do not know how I survived the 11-hour journey by road taking us from the lower Himalayas into the higher Himalayas, a journey that I almost missed because I forgot to get down at Haldwani and finally got down at Kathgodam - the last train station in this part of Uttarakhand. When I arrived, my 'family' (the homestay where I am put up) was waiting for me and all I remember from that day is that I had 1 hot roti and slept under 4 layers of blankets.

The next day, there was a meeting regarding forest rights hosted by a organization called Kalpavriksh from Pune and a local women's collective called Maati. And I finally met Malika Virdi - she is the reason I am here. I saw this video while I was in Toronto and was inspired by the holistic development with a strong connection with the land. So, here I am, to learn first hand.

Among the many things that I have found myself getting into, I am supposed to work with an engineering student from Poland who is here through Engineers Without Borders to work on mapping and improving the water supply system at the village we are staying in. So, one day, we go and map all the houses and the water connections in our village. The next day, we are looking for the right kind of soil to make model of the village so that it is easier for the locals to understand the topography and the gradients. Another day, we restart work on a half-done pond as the kids can't wait to put the fish in. The kids have joined in and there has been very good progress so far. As we work together on these activities, the student and I have struck a strong bond built through conversations on life, travel, culture, war, beliefs (and non-beliefs), water-filters, cheese, dogs, etc..

My other task is to get a decent solar cooker working. Some families here do have a box solar cooker given by the government of Uttarakhand and the kids do an amazing job of baking cakes in them. However, there is a need to be able to build one locally so that every family can have access to it. In the little free time that we get, I get to help my family with some gardening both outside and inside a green-house. I am impressed by the fact that science and technology has reached these remote corners.
In all these activities, the goat belonging to my family gives birth to 2 young ones and all the focus shifts to these as the mother refuses to feed its young ones. So, off I go with my new-found friend on a 2 km uphill trek to the nearest market to get a feeding bottle to feed the kids. Even with all the care, only one of them has survived so far.

There are other minor things that I get to do like fixing a phone, layering the kitchen floor with a mixture of mud and cow-dung, fixing additional shelves in the kitchen, renewing my tailoring and knitting skills, translating a water quality testing manual from Hindi to English (!!) so that my Polish friend could understand.. just to name a few.

In my broken Hindi, I ask the lady who runs the family I stay with, about what she feels about letting some stranger into their home. She said she was initially scared but then, in the 8 years that she has been running this program, she has had only good people coming in, and only a handful of them were like me who treat her family as theirs too! I realized I had passed the first test with good marks :). For me, the reason I feel the home-stay program is amazing is that when they let us into their homes, they let us into their hearts too!

Madness at Mylara Jaatre

I had heard a lot about the Mylara jaatre (village fair) from my aunts and grandmom. For a long time, I had thought Mylara was a fictitious place since it appears in the Kannada proverb "Konkana sutti Mylarakke hogodu" which roughly translates to "beating around the bush to make a point".

This time around, I happened to make it to the jaatre and could see another proverb in action - "jana marulo jaatre marulo" meaning "What/who is crazy? The people or the crowd".

My brother had tried visiting last year but did a U-turn after looking at the lakhs of people gathered for what is called Karanika (prophecy). He warned me about the crowds, but I saw an opportunity to take some colorful pictures. What I did not anticipate was the need for a long-range lens to capture the rustic innocence of the village folk.

I do not want to sound like an NRI or a foreigner visiting India, but I was truly stunned by the reactions of the people to a woman 'press reporter' - that was what I was promoted to as I stood on a water tank with a SLR camera in hand and a "photographer's cap" on my head. My dad watched in disbelief as he could not prevent me from climbing onto the water tank. People always want to say 'you cannot climb this', 'you should not do that' because they are limited by their own capabilities and thinking - whether it is a 10 ft water tank or a 10,000 ft mountain. I decided enough is enough, and with help from a bunch of guys, happily perched myself on top of the water tank from where I could get a panoramic view of the curious event that was to follow.

Every year, lakhs of devotees of Mylaralingeshwara (one of Lord Shiva various forms) visit this place called Mylara

(in Bellary district of Karnataka) on an annual piligrimage. People from north and central Karnataka come in tractors, bullock carts, buses and various other vehicles that are artistically decorated. It is amazing to see so many people united in one wholistic and simple belief. It is believed that whatever is pronounced by a lead Gorappa (a clan in North Karnataka)

during the Karnika turns out to be true.

The person who pronounces the prophecy fasts for 9 days and then on the day of the Karnika (which falls on Bharatha Poornima in Maagha month), climbs a 15 ft oil-smeared pole as if he is climbing a coconut tree and then says whatever God wishes to say through him. This time it was said "Muttina raashi, Kashta pattu, sukha pattitale parakh" which translates to "Heap of pearls (refering to the people), work hard and reap the benefit, thus is the prophecy". Once this is said, he falls off the pole. Just before the prophecy is pronounced, the Gorappa orders for silence and the huge gathering obediently follows his order. After the event, junior Gorappas are available for detailed interpretation of the prophecy.

The guys who gave me space on the water tank filled me with interesting tit-bits about the event and ensured that I did not miss capturing any interesting incident. They also gave me some complimentary buttermilk. In return, I need to send them their pictures that I took, by snail mail. I had assumed that everyone who went to college had access to the internet - I believe most of them do have, on their phones. Anyway, I finally get an opportunity to return a stranger's favor of sending pictures of our family outing long ago when we couldn't afford a camera.

Many more people waved, smiled and requested that their photographs be taken - I gladly obliged all of them with a big smile on my face too. Then, it was time to get down from my position and I almost did a Gorappa act by trying to jump off the tank as I have always had this problem since childhood, of climbing onto rooftops but too scared to get down. Finally, my uncle and dad helped me get down the conventional way.

We camped overnight in some beneficiary's farm and had yummy dinner that included chilli bajjis. The local farmers consider it a privilege to be able to give up part of their farms for the event. A good night's rest under coconut trees and a full moon and we were ready to start the second leg of the tour. The next morning, I watched as everyone (including oxen and tractors) took a dip in the Tunga Bhadra river before heading out to the village of Mylara where the main temple is situated. While my family went to say Hi to God, I opted to take more pictures of the people at the fair.

I couldn't believe as some people followed me and called out to me to have their pictures taken!

My day was made as this T-shirt aptly captures what I felt for being given an opportunity to experience this madness!

That was not all. On the way back, my aunt and grandmom entertained us with interesting stories about Lord Mylaralingeshwara. One story goes like this. Lord Mylaralingeshwara lends money to Lord Venkateshwara of Tirupathi for his marriage, but Lord V fails to return on time. When Lord M asks for the money to be returned, Lord V says that he will return it when the tamarind tree bears fruit. And believe it or not, all the tamarind trees near the temple of Lord M apparently do not bear fruit!! I would like to believe that there is some scientific reason behind this, but the story is very cleverly formed. Lord V surely maintains his reputation of being cunning!

Another story is a sweet one. Supposedly, Lord M accompanies all the people who comes to visit him till Harihara (on the way to Davanagere) to say bye to them. People thank Him for accompanying them till there, visit the temple at Harihara and then head back to their homes.

It is interesting to note that people not only give a human form to God but human character as well!

The way I saw the entire event with all the associated beliefs and stories is that it gives the people something to hold onto through the thick and thin of life, something to have fun and something to give back to society.

Granny's wisdom over a cup of (sugarless) coffee

I was visiting my aunt in a nearby village after a long time. My aunt's 75-year old mother-in-law looked at me and I was expecting the 'when are u getting married' question when she surprised me by asking if I would like to join her for coffee. The effects of urbanization had reached this village too and her sons had split and the younger son and his wife worked the whole day in a nearby factory. So, she had no company for her evening coffee. I gladly accepted the offer especially when she offered sugarless coffee. She needed my help with the kerosene stove and soon coffee was ready. I offered to teach her how to light the LPG stove but she was scared to try something new. Our talk moved onto dinner and granny expressed her disapproval of her daughter-in-law's lack of dedication while cooking because of the TV. I watched her patiently as she waited for all the mustard seeds to splutter and then added the masala which was ground using the grinding stone. I had just got some lessons on slow food. I offered to teach her to light the LPG stove again, but she refused. Another lesson - do not try to teach until the student is ready. I watched in awe as she made perfect ragi balls for the entire family. At the end of the cooking, the kitchen was tidy. Needless to say, the sambhar she prepared was yummy and mom keeps asking me for that recipe. What I realized at the end of the day was that all the granny needed was someone to talk to and someone to share her wisdom so that she feels valued for her contribution to the society however minute it is.

I experienced a similar situation yesterday, with our elderly neighbor aunty.
Mom and I were bragging about the sandige (a south Indian fried snack) that we had prepared.

Aunty got excited and offered to teach us aralu sandige - a version of sandige made with puffed rice. It was the same need for sharing what she knew and passing it on to the next generation. I realized at a micro level why some institutions are focusing on grandmothers' wisdom for our own sustainability. For now, I am off to my grandmom's place to finish my lesson on rangoli that I had started a few months back.

Is it the place or the people?

I am supposed to write reflection papers as part of my leadership course. The guideline says that we do not have to answer all the questions that we pose - "the questions are a sign of curiosity and a continued desire to learn". That'z interesting.. so, I don't have to answer all the questions I have.. hmm.. I think I will get back to my assignment later.

In all my travels, I have wondered if it is the people or the place that makes an impact on me. Most places (if not all) have made me happy probably because of the freedom and independence they give me.. or may be because I get closer to myself, as Alan Alda says - "You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. What you'll discover will be wonderful. What you'll discover is yourself."

In a way, places are like people. There are some places that you fall in love with at first sight; and some you start liking with time. New York city for example.. I have not been particularly interested in the US but when I stepped onto the streets of New York, it got me immediately - it was love at first site (spelling intentional)! I don't understand how it happened. A city full of buildings and roads and cars and cyclists and people.. Same with Mumbai I guess.. NYC and Mumbai are often spoken of in the same breath, as both places offer a lot of opportunities, welcome anyone who dares to dream, are resilient, etc..

And there are places like Toronto, which I took some time before I started liking it, bit by bit. Sometimes it was the long walks on the quiet streets, sometimes it was the beautiful fall colors, sometimes it was the way the old and new blending so well with each other..

And the people are one of the nicest I have met, second only to the Swiss.

Cities, like people, have character. In Economics class, I tend to feel even countries have character and our prof doesn't seem to like any!!

Anyway, I am not sure whether cities shape the character of the people or people shape the character of the city. As the Canadians say, it depends :)

1 week at the York campus

It has been a week since I landed at the York University campus and one thing that has been hard to miss is the cute composting cone scattered across the campus. These cones are open from the bottom and one has to just drop organic waste into it. I did not want to attract too much attention by digging deeper into it. Will find out more once I get to meet more people.

The university has a strong focus on sustainability and has many related ratings to its credit. My room mate confirmed that this is indeed a good place to learn about sustainability. So, provisions for garbage segregation is one thing that I expected at the campus. Though there isn't any facility (or I haven't figured out yet) for composting within the residential buildings, I have made it a point to keep organic waste separate and drop it in the nearest composting bin.

The next interesting thing that I discovered is a

community maintained vegetable garden

within the campus. Individual plots can be rented out for 20$ and one can grow whatever one wants, the weather and the deers/rabbits permitting. I might start by watering and deweeding the community part and earn my way to an individual plot - if I find the time for it. I have been warned repeatedly by my seniors about 18-hr work days once school starts.

Moving around using public transport has been fairly easy considering the campus is located on the outskirts and the nearest subway station is a good 20 min bus ride. The bus stops are many and close to one another - my reasoning is that it is very difficult to walk even a few meters in winters. I have also heard some stories about wild animals sneaking up to you. TTC, the Toronto Transport Corporation offers discounted re-usable tokens that cost 2.5$ (3$ without discount) for a one-way ride. It is interesting the way the transfers - from one bus to another bus, from bus to sub-way and vice versa - work. When transferring between a bus and a subway train, things work on trust - they trust that you have paid for your one-way ticket. I did take some time to adjust to this system. The transfer ticket (for transfers between buses) is hard to mess around with, as I found out when I (unintentionally) used an expired transfer ticket. Of course with a monthly pass or a day pass, it is much easier and cheaper to move around.