Mystory

The clinking sound of footsteps on the iron staircase echoed in my ears, but the sound of my excitement persisted. Those eager murmurs on the first day of third grade made it even louder. A new class, new teacher, new friends, and most importantly, new subjects! Third grade was the first year we got to study History & Civics and Geography.

Before third grade, history had been all about watching TV shows about Jhansi ki Rani or Chandragupta Maurya, with the extravagant sets, sharp swords, powerful dialogues and glorious fights. And the whole idea of studying more about these legends made me very enthusiastic. I knew I wouldn’t just read about them, but my imagination would take me to them, sometimes clad in the same saree as Lakshmibai, other times as Queen Victoria perhaps.

Miss Kelkar walked into the class. Her jet black, long hair was tied elegantly into a lot plait. Her simple blue and purple salwar-kameez complemented her deep brown eyes and little black bindi perfectly. She came in, introduced herself, and told us to remove our history textbooks. I opened my textbook to the first chapter, and it was called ‘What is history?’. We learned basic terms like historian, archaeologist, inscriptions, emperors, etc. And then began a journey back in time, a journey to the past, which I live in the present.

I travelled to so many lands in that one year. Colonial India, Ashoka’s peaceful empire, Shah Jahan’s , stunning Taj Mahal site, all were covered in one year itself. 

Further, I came a veteran traveller to the lands of the past. I bathed in the Great Bath, sat in Tutankhamun’s court, traded along the Silk Route, and even saw the Code of Hammurabi right before my eyes. I attended a session in the diwan-e-aam, walked in the Dandi March with Gandhi, heard Nehru’s Tryst with destiny and even saw the bloody partition of my nation.

I have come a long way from words like historian, archaeologist, inscriptions and emperors. Words such as power, perspective, revolution and society have become a more significant part of history for me.

History evolves. Just like we all do. History also has a future. A future of the past, a future of the rich customs, traditions and culture of the past. We need to revive that past. We need to learn from it. We need to put it into current perspective to understand contemporary issues. The true essence of history isn’t the extravagant palaces or fancy costumes of the past. It is the rather lessons. Lessons from past mistakes, from the rich societies of the past, from how we have become who we are today. History teaches us why some are rich, some poor, some unequally treated and some specially treated. Once we understand the ‘why’, we need to look for the ‘how’ and identify solutions to solve such loopholes in the society. Not just the Indian society, but each and every society in the world faces some or the other social, political or economic issue. I want to study history as a solution, as a source which explains the root cause of the issue.

I want to read the story of the dead and derive morals for the living.

Poison

Stranded in the vast,

Ocean of thoughts,

I am.

The boat of acceptance glares at me.

Attracts me to its comfortable,

Well-supported self.

The relaxation of not trying,

Just accepting,

Attracts me.

But fear overtakes desire,

And turns into a state of fascination,

As I see the thin white paper boat on my left.

Not strong enough to bear the ocean currents alone,

It strives to float somehow.

For its willpower is strong enough to stay there.

I swim to it,

Mesmerized by its simplicity yet strong demeanour.

As I lift it,

I see two golden words written there,

‘Be yourself’,

It says.

And it talks to me.

“Run away from the boat of acceptance,

For it will gulp your uniqueness.

Run behind who you strive to be,

Not who others want you to be.

Be the golden sunlight,

Or the dancing daffodils,

Be the fresh blue sky,

Or the grey clouds.

Be who you want to be.

Embrace your soul,

And don’t let the poison of acceptance contaminate your pure self.”

And since that day on,

I am me,

Uncontaminated by the comfortable acceptance.

His Shadow?

Today, 2nd October, 2019, we celebrate the 150th birth anniversary of Gandhiji. But we often forget one very important person. I would like to dedicate this day and this poem to her:

His white dhoti shines,

His serene eyes talk.

Is he a vision or is he true?

I see him cleaning his spectacles,

And caressing his charkha.

Gandhi is just a name,

He is a symbol,

A symbol of hope,

Of peace,

Of truth.

But who is she?

That pillar of support merely?

Her white saree,

Her strong demeanour,

Her fierce eyes,

All talk to me.

The woman who walked with him,

Who knew all his flaws,

His known,

His hidden,

His soul,

His heart

Evaporates.

Forms his shadow.

She chose so.

She was his strength,

But above all,

She was her strength.

She was his support,

But we all forget,

The support she gave herself.

She doesn’t hide behind him,

She is him.

And she chose so.

She chose to be empowered.

And self-enlightened.

Modak Chronicles

Modak! Round from the bottom and folded perfectly from the top, the modak is a lip-smacking sweet from Maharashtra. As Ganesh Chaturthi recently got over, I thought of writing a bit about why Ganpati bappa loved modak so much.

Firstly, a bit about the history of modak. The traditional modak is the ukdiche modak which is a steamed version of the modak. It has a filling of jaggery (gud) and coconut (nariyal). This filling is wrapped in rice flour and steamed. The modak is usually eaten with tup or ghee.  The three main ingredients of modak – jaggery, coconut and rice flour are local ingredients of Maharashtra. Hence, the modak started in Maharashtra. It is said to have been popularized from Shivaji’s period, when the Kasba Ganpati became the gram devta of Pune.

Now, why is modak associated with Ganpati?

Here, we turn to mythology. Modak is mentioned in two folklores:

       1)    Shiv and Parvati were invited to a lunch by Anusuya (a rishi’s wife). The dutiful hostess served lots of food to the family. There was so much variety, food from different regions, with different textures and numerous flavours. But Ganesh remained hungry. He kept on eating all he was given, but his hunger was not satisfied. Finally, Anusuya thought of something sweet and brought some modaks for Ganesh. They finally satisfied his hunger. And after eating them, he burped 21 times. That’s why 21 modaks are offered to Ganesh.

2     2)  The devtas once came to visit Shiv and Parvati and presented them with a divine modak. The person who ate it would become knowledgeable in all shastras. Parvati wanted to present it to her sons. But they weren’t ready to share it. Hence, Parvati asked them to prove their sincerity and devotion. Karthikey, Ganesh’s brother mounted on his vahana and travelled to all three worlds, but Ganesh just went around Shiv and Parvati, to show his devotion towards them. Hence, Parvati gave him the modak. Here, the modak acts as a symbol of Ganesh’s dedication towards his parents are well as a representation of knowledge, wisdom and sincerity.

Modak isn’t just a dish, it a symbol of all that Lord Ganesh stands for: knowledge, wisdom and divinity.

The Bakarwadi Connection

The busy Bajirao road in Pune is incomplete without the vibrant red board of 'Chitale Bandhu' at the end of the road. The dull grey road is lit up by the bright red signboard, the mouths of Punekars water at the very mention of Chitale. The Chitale group of companies is a collaborative venture run by the Chitale family since the 1940s. It was started as a small dairy business in Sangli in 1938 by Bhaskar Ganesh Chitale. It has now diversified into 5 companies, Chitale Dairy, Chitale Bandhu, Chitale foods, Chitale agro and an IT firm called Chitale Digitals. 

It was Raghunathrao Chitale, the son of Bhaskar Ganesh Chitale who set up and managed Chitale Bandhu Mithaiwale venture. He was responsible for churning out some of Chitale’s most popular food items: the bakarwadi, amba burfi, shrikhand and pedhas. Chitale has become a household name in Pune with the passage of time, and Punekars associate Chitale’s name with the crunchy, sweet yet spicy Bakarwadis the most.

Bakarwadi is traditionally a Gujarati snack, made popular by Raghunathrao in Maharashtra in the 70s, by making it spicier and more suitable to Maharashtrian palates. Bakarwadi is a highly popular snack in both Maharashtra and Gujarat. The Gujarati bakarwadi is made with a besan dough, which is rolled into thin sheets which is slathered with a spice mix and rolled into cigars. It is then cut into smaller pieces and fried in burning hot oil. It is slightly sweeter than the Maharashtrian one.

The Maharashtrian bakarwadi also has a besan base. Its stuffing has coconut, sesame seeds, poppy seeds, jeera (cumin seeds), aamchur (dried mango powder) and a subtle hint of spice. It is rolled into spirals and fried. The crust is crunchy and crispy, and the stuffing is spiced perfectly. It is the perfect mix of crunch, sweet and spicy flavours.

Bakarwadi is a highly addictive snack, and the very feeling of biting into a delicious Chitale bakarwadi cannot be put into words. That crunch when you bite into it is just unbeatable. It’s a symphony of crunch and delectable flavours.

Over the years, I have formed this attachment with bakarwadi which is so unique. Its my go-to snack. No lunch at home is incomplete without relishing a bakarwadi. Just seeing that white and blue Chitale packet lights up my whole day.

Sneaking into dadu’s kitchen to look for that bakarwadi, is a mood. Seeing baba crush my dear bakarwadi and mix it some dahi is something I look at with awe. For me, adding anything to my little piece of happiness is contaminating its flavor.

But I guess everyone enjoys bakarwadi their way.

The Bakarwadi connection is literally something which will never end. Ever.

The notion of ugliness

Who is ugly?

That neighbourhood bald uncle with a paunch?

That girl with unwaxed arms?

Or that acid attack survivor whose picture you saw this morning?

In my opinion, there are no ugly faces, only ugly thoughts.

I blatantly refuse to accept this whole concept of ‘ugliness’ of faces. Nobody has the right to term someone as ugly. The only people who term others as ‘ugly’ are the ones who are unable to embrace themselves. Ugliness isn’t about the face of the other person, its rather about the thought process of the person calling him/her ugly.

We all are ugly and beautiful. Everyone has beautiful faces and certain beautiful qualities. But everyone also has some ugly qualities. These ugly or negative qualities are the only ugliness of yours you need to worry about.

Having a pimple on your face or fat on your belly doesn’t make you ugly. But your impatience, anger, sadness does. Embrace that. Embrace your inner beauty and your inner ugliness. Work on it. Recognize it, realize it. The only person who has a right to call you ‘ugly’ is you. You are the person who knows you best. You are your best critic. Fall in love with those drawbacks, that inner ugliness. You may not be able to turn that ugliness to beauty, but once you realize and embrace it, you wont consider it negative anymore.

So love yourself for who you are, not what you look like.

रातें

नशीली रातें,

तारों की बातें,

बहती हुई हवाएँ,

आसमान की घटाएँ,

सब उन नग्मों के लफ़्ज़ों में खो गयी।

मन में छुपी जो धुन थी,

पवन ने गा दी

साँझ की परछाइयों में,

मैं घूम गयी।

खुद को इस रात में खोकर,

सेहर के धुएँ से आयी लौट।

अभी भी मग्न,

उस रात के नशे में।