In which Amma gets a smart phone

Yesterday Amma got her first smart phone. What a fun morning calling everyone! 

The best call was to me, from one room to another! "Hello, who is speaking?" "Amma, it's me, Deepa." "Oh is that you?" And a long fake conversation after that in the Queen's English on useless topics! Just like kids playing "telephone-telephone".  

My sister Roopa clicked this pic 

But more seriously, it made me painfully aware that one day, I too will be tech-challenged. I too will be slow to push the right buttons or read a scrolling screen quickly enough. Already I am on the edge of that. Although, I must confess, starting a new online business has taught me new some skills! I can now make insta reels and what not. Still...the day when I get both outdated and slow is not far away. 

The most painfully beautiful thing about being near an aging parent is one's acute awareness of one's own future. I have my mother's body structure and temperament. Will I also have her frailties?

- Deepa

Visit to Pandharpur - March 2022

Visiting major pilgrimage sites is always an ordeal due to crowds and endless queues. But Pandharpur is an easy experience. 

Our family in front of the temple, three generations

If you book online slots for darshan it is a shorter queue and you are out in half an hour. The temple has long experience of managing lakhs of warkari pilgrims. The physical space is small so they have created a warren inside where the queues meander across multiple floors. 

For those on wheelchairs there are special arrangements for quick darshan. No photography allowed inside, so this is the exterior.

First sight of Namdev and Chokha Mela shrines

Namdev Payri is the samadhi sthal of the saint Namdev. "Jivanta Samadhi" was taken by 13 members of his family and Janabai in this place. The smaller shrine is of the poet Chokha Mela, who was one of the many followers of Namdev. His song Abir Gulal Udalita Rang is well known and widely sung. Being from a low caste, he was denied access to the temple. His bones were buried outside the temple, and many visit this spot where there is a small shrine. One cannot get away from caste and its hold... even in the India of today. Although things have improved a lot, there is still a lot of discrimination. 

Commerce and religion, always side by side :)

Guava seller outside the temple

Guava is called Peru in Maharashtra. The term is likely derived from the source / origin of the fruit... they are from Central America / Mexico and were introduced into India in the 1600s by the Portuguese. Peru + masala... great combo.

Getting symbols drawn on hands

Tukaram sings:

Gopichandan-uti tulasichya mala haar milwiti gala,

Taal mrudung ghai pushpa varshav,

Anupamya sukhasola re

The pilgrims have anointed themselves with sandalwood paste and put on garlands of basil leaves. Drums are reverberating and flowers are being showered. The joyous celebration is beyond words.

The pilgrimage experience includes getting markings on ones hands and forehead. Experiencing Vitthala not only through the eyes (darshan) but also through one's own body.

Little boys come running with pastes and metal moulds when you reach the temple. The most popular are the Vaishnavite urdhva pundra marks on the forehead, but arms are also decorated with outlines of Vithhala or the temple or other sacred symbols.

Amma with the forehead Vaishnavite tilak mark

There is a lot of sugarcane grown in this belt, so of course, we had to stop to taste fresh juice!

Overall, a great happy visit, and one that the family is still talking about it! We are already wondering where to go next.

The Magic Room

The Magic Room is a textiles and crafts store in Sion, which I opened this month. 

This pic is from our Navratri Exhbition, when my mother and daughter were both present and we got a 3-generation photo. Of course, I had to put it here! 

The Magic Room is social enterprise that supports handmade products from India, with a focus on sourcing fairly from craftspersons, and supporting women entrepreneurs wherever possible. We also have a tailoring livelihood program for women (and men!) from low-income areas of Mumbai.  

Do drop in at 331, Champaklal Estate, if you would like to see all the nice stuff we have on offer. 

You can check us out on instagram here: https://www.instagram.com/magicroommumbai/

Our facebook page is here: https://www.facebook.com/TheMagicRoomMumbai

Coral Jasmine - a carpet of flowers

If you visit a flower market in Mumbai, you will usually not see the coral jasmine. It flowers at night, and when day breaks, all the flowers fall, leaving a beautiful carpet of flowers on the ground. It is a fragile flower, that fades quickly, and doesn't do well when transported to markets.

In my mother's apartment there is a coral jasmine plant; and every morning, the night watchman gathers up the flowers and gives them to my mother. Some of them go into the kitchen temple, but the others are used like this, as a beautiful carpet for her plants.

Coral jasmine, offered to the Tulsi, and to other plants 

This jasmine is offered to gods, even after it has fallen to the ground. In Tamil, it is called kanaka malli, where kanaka means coral, and malli is jasmine. In Hindi, the coral jasmine is called harsingar, or the adornment of God. It is the state flower of West Bengal. In Bengali it is called sheuli.

This flower is also identified as parijat, a legendary flowering tree that is mentioned in the Puranas. As is common in Indian legends, there are multiple candidates claiming to be parijat :) In Tamilnadu, the parijat of legend is a much larger, all-white flower, with a very intense fragrance.

Krishna Uprooting the Parijata Tree, folio from a Bhagavata Purana manuscript (text in Sanskrit), Delhi region or Rajasthan, India, artist unknown,1525–50; opaque watercolor and ink on paper. Los Angeles County Museum of Art. 

Indian Aesthetics - The Poetry of Krishna

- by Deepa Krishnan

Yesterday at The Magic Room, I attended a marvellous session organized by Expansions (curated by Sarayu Kamat). We listened to the very erudite scholar Dr. Harsha Dehejia speak on the many moods of Krishna Kavya.

I do not reside in Vaikuntha, nor in the hearts of yogis.

Where my Bhaktas sing my songs, there I reside, O Narada!

The invitation for the event said: "Krishna’s romantic presence is best understood as kavya and not as a katha, and that too as muktak, or fragmented moment of romantic pleasure. While enjoying the sensuality of Krishna’s shringara, a committed Rasika will endeavour to move it to shringar bhakti. Krishna shringara ultimately should lead to brahma jnana and therefore ananda"

It was a pleasure listening to Dr. Dehejia, as he led us through the history of Indian Aesthetics, from the Vedas and the Upanishads, down to Brathrhari (Vakyapadiya, Sphota theory), Bharatamuni (Natyashastra, rasa theory), and Abhinavagupta (commentary on Natya Shastra). 

After giving us a better understanding of various expressions of aesthetics - shabda, shilpa, natya - he then took us into the world of kavya (art, music, poetry). Specifically, he took us for an exploration of Krishna Kavya, tracing the major art and poetry movements of northern and eastern India. 

I learnt a lot, particularly about saakar and niraakar concepts of brahman, about bhakti poetry, about the advaita and dvaita concepts that found expression in the literature. I also learnt the answer to a question that had been puzzling me, the question of Radha. I had never understood how suddenly Radha became a major goddess when she is nowhere in the Puranas. I learnt that Radha is a later construct by poets, particularly Jayadeva and Chaitanya Mahaprabhu. It is a great example of how poetry/music seeps into the Indian heart and fills it with emotion, even leading to mass acceptance of new gods and goddesses. I also learnt a lot about the major poets of the Krishna tradition, and developed an appreciation for Pahari and Rajasthani miniature art. 

All in all, a very good way to spend an evening, and I was very thankful to Sarayu, for inviting me to the event. Here are some more photos:

Sarayu Kamat introducing the speaker

Small glimpse of the audience

My Warli saree and jewellery from Indu Diva

I wore a slice of tribal village life yesterday to the event - a handpainted Warli Art necklace and saree. Indu has done such a lovely project with this. The saree has a base cotton weave from Madanapeta in Telengana, and it was the perfect brown to set off the beauty of the Warli pallu. The artist who painted the necklace and the saree is from the Warli people, living in a village about 4hrs from Mumbai. She went to the village and got the jewellery and saree project kicked off. I felt very good to have supported this work, and it is a joy to wear something that has personal meaning. The Kotpad blouse from Odisha was really perfect! I have increasingly begun to make conscious choices about what I buy and wear. 

Morning routine in my parents house

This is the kitchen of my parents' home. Their day begins with two glasses of warm water, to which Amma adds a spoon of honey and some lemon.

Appa finds a knife and plates, and sits down at the dining table to slice elchi bananas. It takes a while. They will eat the bananas later, with cinnamon powder and sugar. The milk is set to boil. The filter is filled with coffee powder; and boiling water is poured into it. The fabulous smell of Mysore coffee fills the air. Once the decoction and milk are ready, the first cup of coffee is had. It takes them an hour to complete their first round of morning activities.

Recently my mother took a fall in the bathroom. It was not a major fall. But my sister, my cousin Girish and I have been taking turns to sleepover at their house for a few days, until things normalise. That's how I am here, watching these morning rituals. As I observe them moving around, I realise the mortality and fragility of the human body.  Someday, I will also get to this slow-moving stage. Will my husband be there with me, dancing this slow dance?

Last evening, an elderly neighbour heard about her fall, and came to visit my mother. "Deepa," she said, in that advisory tone that even complete strangers use freely in India "You must now look after your parents carefully." Almost instantly, I replied, "Maami, it is my good fortune that I can serve them". I realised as soon as I said it that I was parroting a cliché. But sometimes it is the clichés that seem to most closely reflect our thoughts. I am indeed blessed, that I can spend time with my parents at this stage of their life. 

My parents are still able to do many things on their own. For things that they cannot manage, my sister and I have been pitching in for the past couple of years. Our army of maids and drivers has been very handy. But in the process, the big thing I have learned is that when it comes to caring for elders, money alone is not enough. You cannot throw a nurse on the job and expect it to work well. Planning, coordination and a sort of loving expertise is required.

Many things seem small; but they are important to the person you are caring for. For example, the feeding of the crows in my mother's house is a tiny ritual, but it's important to her. It follows a fixed pattern. Rice and curd are mixed together into thayir saadam. The crows come at 10 am. Nothing else will they eat, except that thayir saadam. We have tried upma, sevai, dal-rice... uh-uh, sorry! Only thayir saadam is accepted with grace. So this is a ritual now, and it must be planned the previous day. We must ensure rice is cooked every day, and that some curd-rice is set aside for the next morning. At 10 am sharp, it has to be placed on the compound wall. If my mother is unwell, then someone else must do this little thing, because the crows cannot be forgotten.

There are a hundred small things like this, each one tiny, but each one a fragment of my parents' routine, a part of the way they want to live their life. It is what makes them who they are. It brings normalcy and comfort to them, to see these things done. I hope my sister and I can do it for as long as required.

In which my dad cuts a ribbon

- by Deepa Krishnan

My brother-in-law Satish has set up a new factory near Pune. On Vijayadashami, we all went for the inauguration. It was such a happy day. Satish's parents came from Chennai for the event. My parents also came. We drove to the venue in two SUVs because there were several of us. The factory is very big, so we drove right in.

One section of the shop floor, with our cars parked.

There was lots of lamp lighting and ribbon cutting and tree planting :) Satish's dad cut the first ribbon, announcing a series of inaugurations of various sections of the factory.

My parents inaugurated the machining section. Appa has a lot of experience cutting ribbons at various events, so he did it like a pro!

Dad and mom inaugurating machining section

Here is Satish's dad, checking out one of the steel rings that the factory produces.

We all got a basic understanding of the products, the markets, prices, etc. It was very interesting.

On the outside of the factory, a series of Ashoka trees were planted. I hope they all grow beautifully. I pray for the success of the business. It is such a big venture. We are first-generation entrepreuners!

Lunch was festive, with puri-shrikhand, jeera rice, dal, matki, paneer, various types of deep-fried bajjis/pakodas, koshimbir, chutney, and dahi-rice. I forgot to photograph my plate :) So this is the only photo I have. This is also the only photo I have of Satish's mother. You can see her sitting (behind the handbag), talking to my mom.

We returned to Mumbai by 5:30 pm, a little tired, but very happy. We all missed Aishwarya, who is currently in Lucknow. She would have loved the food :)

How my lane has changed

- By Deepa Krishnan

When I was growing up, this lane behind my mother's house used to be empty.

The neighbourhood boys would play gully cricket here. We used to have sports events in this street. We made friends with all the children from other buildings on the street. We celebrated Ganpati. We hosted movie showings by rigging up cloth screens, and everyone came to watch.

Nowadays there are cars parked on both sides and the road has become narrow. We don't see any street games these days in this part of the road. People don't talk much to others in the street, because everyone is busy watching TV. Kids from all the buildings in this street don't know each other.

I was happy to see this girl cycling. It reminded me of my childhood, the old Bombay, in an era before cars multiplied.

Public space and a sense of community - Growing up in Mumbai

- by Deepa Krishnan

Yesterday I explored Mumbai with a group of 6 urban planning experts from around the world. In the morning we visited south and central Mumbai, seeing how the city gradually expanded northwards from its small beginnings in the Fort area. After lunch, we went to Navi Mumbai, taking in all the changes that have happened in Airoli, Turbhe, Belapur, Kharghar and Vashi. I saw 500 years of Mumbai's growth, all compressed into a single day.

By the end of the day, I had developed an acute awareness of "public spaces" in Mumbai.

By public spaces, I don't only mean places like the huge Oval Maidan or the popular Marine Drive. I mean space for activities at the neighbourhood level, such as small gardens, places for people to walk or jog, areas for holding community meetings, etc. 

As a child growing up in Sion and Matunga, I had access to many such public spaces. 

Our home in Sion was right next to Sion Fort, and we spent many happy evenings running around there with friends and cousins. There was an "aeroplane garden" there, where we clambered in and out of a concrete art-deco mock-aeroplane. There was a "waterfall" which came cascading down the side of the hill, and we loved climbing it when it was dry. 

With my cousins at Sion Fort

Because of the specifications mandated by the City Improvement Trust, our building stood in a compound of its own. All the buildings in our neighbourhood similarly stood in their own compounds, and each compound had a maximum of only 12 apartments. These compounds formed another type of public space, where everyone knew each other.

There were no cars parked inside our compound, so we had space to play hide-and-seek, marbles, cricket and lagori. We plucked flowers and leaves, and played "ghar ghar".  (A couple of years ago, I came across a building in Matunga, where these girls were running around plucking flowers in the compound; it reminded me of my childhood).

Each building is set in its own compound

Our compound was larger than the one in the photo above. We could string up a net and play badminton. We hosted fun-fairs in the compound. We had a 'club' in the building, where we played carrom in the evenings. We flew kites on our building terrace, gathered there with friends to dry fatakadas for Diwali, and eagerly bombarded each other with balloons on Holi.

But the compound could not really meet all the recreational needs of its children. Older children played cricket on the streets. We were in a quiet lane. There were very few cars in those days, so cricket could be played all day long, with only the occasional interruption by a passing Fiat or Ambassador. In fact, even today, cricket is played in our lane on Sundays.

In Sion, there were many venues for cultural events nearby. We went to dance and music performances at Shanmukhananda Hall and Mysore Association. Children learnt musical instruments, singing and dancing at the Tamil Sangam and various dance schools. We celebrated Ganesh festival and Navratri in small building pandals in the neighbourhood. We enacted skits and dance-dramas for Rama Navami at the temples in Matunga. Because of all these cultural activities, we met many other kids from our neighbourhood.

In fact, when I think about my childhood in the city, I now realise how much public space was available to me! I spent a lot of time outside the home, in the neighbourhood. I now realise how these public spaces influenced my experience of the city. They helped me form friendships and community bonds, and they created in me, a sense of civic and cultural identity.

In the last 8 years or so, I have been exploring the older residential areas in south Mumbai. The more I ventured into the older districts - Dongri, Kalbadevi, Bhuleshwar - the more I felt the lack of  public spaces. The biggest difference I felt was the lack of the "compound". In the older districts, there are houses and shops, all touching each other, with shop wares spilling out on already narrow streets. These older districts have no spacious pavements. They have very few trees. There are no gardens; and there are no places for children to bicycle or to play. 

Jagannath Shankar Seth Road, going from Metro to Kalbadevi. See how the buildings are all stuck together.

Bhuleshwar Road. Shops and residences on both sides, stalls spilling over on the street, no access to pavements.

Although there are no major public spaces for leisure, these older districts do have a distinct sense of shared community and culture. Since people from each religious community cluster together, there is a cultural identity. The community somehow manages to create shared experiences, especially during festivals. Mosques and temples offer physical space for people to come together. Places like the Jain panjrapole offer not just peace and quiet but also the chance to feed and care for animals.

Here is a peep into a quiet temple at Bhuleshwar. In the compound, I often see Gujarati women chatting.

Community space seen through temple door

Here is another example: the local residents have pooled money to decorate this lane in the Chor Bazaar area for a festival. There is a mosque inside the lane.

Mutton Street all decked up

Here's another photo, this one is from Girgaon's now famous Padwa celebrations. The processions begin at the Phadke Mandir (Ganesh temple) and continue through the streets of area. 

Families watching Gudi Padwa processions at Girgaon

In Navi Mumbai, a very different sort of development has taken place. Everything is very large-scale and spread out when compared to Mumbai. The stations are huge. The distances between stations are also significant. But the most striking feature of Navi Mumbai is that there are very few people around, compared to Mumbai.

Among the most impressive places I visited was Central Park in Khargar. It has 300 acres of green space, lots of trees, open areas, a water body, etc. What a boon to the residents. So much open space, and that too, available to the common man. In a city that doesn't have good ratio of public spaces per person, this is really a welcome development.

But will a sense of community form? Will these places - with wide open streets and modern amenities produce a shared sense of civic belonging? Will people form fond attachments to their neighbourhood? It is too soon to tell.

The scale of things in Navi Mumbai is huge. This sort of scale is ideal if you have private cars to go from one place to another; but it can be intimidating when you have to walk long distances just to get home from the train station. Deserted streets with no street-stalls or hawkers de-humanise the place, and stop you from connecting emotionally with it. It especially makes things very difficult for women. A certain scale has to be achieved; yes, but it has to be the right scale, so that small communities form easily.

My personal belief is that our religious spaces - temples, derasars, mosques, churches and gurudwaras - form the cultural core of a new settlement. We are still a very religiously oriented people. Our food and dietary habits are very community-specific and we want markets which can cater to those special requirements. If an area offers the right combination of prayer house + bazaars, it will attract new residents who will form a close-knit community, rather than just a culture-less homogenous urban mass of people. Such people will celebrate festivals, set up cultural associations, and provide a sense of identity to the area. People who live there will develop an attachment to that area.

I'm not sure where Navi Mumbai's new large-scale settlements are heading, or what sort of communities are forming. I really don't know the area well enough. But I am very keen to see how it all plays out. I will be going back there, to check it out more.

Why Loiter: Matunga on a Sunday Night

- By Aishwarya Pramod

Why Loiter is a campaign that anyone can join from anywhere. The idea behind the campaign is very simple: it encourages women to loiter aimlessly about their city and make use of its public spaces :). In the face of victim-blaming and increased restrictions on women’s mobility, the campaign wants to create a sense of a community of women in public space, so that we can remind ourselves and other women that we are not alone.

This Sunday, I was going to meet a friend in Matunga. I saw the campaign on Facebook, so I took some pictures and hashtagged them #whyloiter.

I took a short bus ride to bustling Maheshwari Udyan (King’s Circle) and met my friend for dinner at Spring Onion. The starters were especially good. We told ourselves we’d come back there some other day and eat only 3 or 4 starters, no need of main course.

Then we wandered around near Five Garden and chilled… some photography happened there. Turns out my phone is not great at night photography (or I haven’t found the correct settings). There were many other people - many young people - walking, sitting around, hanging out.

We walked back to King’s Circle for dessert at Natural’s Ice Cream (one berry and one coffee-cinammon/coffee-walnut mix). Strolled around the circle for a bit - stopped to look at a street book stall (open quite late - around 10 pm). Families, college students and many others also loitered there, enjoying the night air. Finally, I then took the bus home.

I love lazing around at home, sometimes even more than going out. But when I do go out, chilling in Matunga is one the nicest things. It has pretty streets and buildings, good food, street book stalls, gardens, and optimal crowds (not too few people to be lonely/deserted, but usually not so many people that it becomes very crowded).

--------------------------------------

It’s widely accepted that Mumbai is the most women-friendly city in India. Bombay girls are the most bindaas (carefree, without restraint). Women who move here from other cities are sometimes heard to remark on their newfound liberation. I myself love Mumbai. But even in Mumbai the freedom is not absolute and not something we take for granted.

“Why Loiter” is also a book (published in 2011) that explores the ways in which the women negotiate and navigate the streets of Mumbai, in a larger culture that thinks women and public spaces don’t do together. I’ve read part of it – it was great! – and plan to finish reading it soon. It’s a refreshing, inspiring take on gender, public space and freedom.

Why Loiter is a call for an end to fearmongering and for women to openly and confidently claim the streets. Loitering – taking up public spaces while doing absolutely nothing – is everyone’s right. 

It calls on the government and society, not to provide paternalistic ‘protection’ by asking women to stay at home, but instead to begin providing the infrastructure (for example good public transport, street lights, public toilets) for women to feel safe. The book has many other interesting suggestions too. The final aim is freedom without fear.

"Half the Sky" - University of Washington Foster School of Business

- By Deepa Krishnan

Yesterday I addressed a group of 25 girls from the University of Washington's Foster School of Business. They were here on a Women’s Lead­er­ship and Entre­pre­neur­ship program. It's called "Half the Sky", and it inspires students to make a dif­fer­ence through meet­ings with lead­ers and role mod­els all over India. Most of them are from the MBA program, but there are also a couple of students from other streams.

The students are going to be in India for a month, studying women’s leadership, and learning about "social enterprises" that create business solutions to poverty and environmental issues. Apart from meeting lots of women in India, the group is also spending time with non-profits, learning about specific issues first-hand, and working with the non-profits on problem-solving recommendations.

We spent an hour together, and I spoke about my life, my beliefs, decisions that I made along the way, and why I am happy with what I am doing. We discussed the Mumbai Local tour, and how it is designed to be socially relevant and at the same time, financially viable. I spoke also about creating a tour company that was inherently 'responsible', where social good is in the DNA of the company, and CSR is not just an afterthought or a cash handout at the end of the year. It was informal and fun, I enjoyed it enormously, mainly because I connected with the girls, and didn't have to watch my mouth :) 

The 'Half the Sky' program is the baby of Cate Goethals, consultant and professor, and wearer of many interesting hats. She has been coming to India since 2010 with this program, and it's always a pleasure meeting her. We posed for photos after the speech.

After this, I said goodbye, and the group went on a tour of the city, with the guides from the Mumbai Local program. I spoke to Cate today, and she said they all enjoyed the tour very much. Here are a couple of photos from the tour: one of the group at VT, and the other in the lobby of the hotel, with the Mumbai Local guides.

We've been doing this sort of thing for the last couple of years. Here's a collage of images from Cate's visit last year:

And here's one from their visit the year before that!

This is a great program, with bright and motivated groups of students visiting India each year. I wish them all the best and hope they go on to become inspiring leaders and role models for the women of the future. Some of the girls this year came up to me and asked if I could be their mentor. Mentorship is a big word - but I think working women everywhere need to share our lives and our stories. Especially, we need to share the difficulties. Speaking the truth, admitting the mistakes you've made, and being confident in stating what you've achieved - this is the most valuable form of mentorship. Too many women - especially in India - tend to be self-deprecating. We need to come out and celebrate our achievements too.

Teaching and Learning

- by Deepa Krishnan

These days we're doing a training / sensitization series at my office. It is a summer program for young people who work in the tourism industry in Mumbai.

We're discussing a wide range of topics - caste, gender, education, legal system, history, architecture, and so on. The idea is to help these students speak with some level of depth about these issues. They meet and interact with many tourists each month - so it is very useful for them.

I have myself also been enjoying these discussions on social, economic and political issues. And I'm looking forward to more of them. We have three interns this year, students from St Xavier's College (including my daughter Aishwarya!). They're helping to research topics and they're conducting the sessions. I'm the moderator, sort of.

There is lots of participation. I love the dynamics, and especially I love way learning works when there's discussion and fun, and most importantly, when everyone is sharing their own life experiences. I was glad to see the sort of questions that came up in the discussions on caste and gender. I'm learning lots of new stuff myself.

In which a little bit of Greece comes to Mumbai

- By Deepa Krishnan

In 2007, before the era where food shows took over Indian television, I went to a little village called Zaros in the island of Crete. 

We stayed at Studios Keramos, a small B&B, where our hostess Katerina was famous for her fantastic breakfasts. She made fresh bread for us every morning, and also all kinds of other Greek peasant-style baked treats. 

I peeped into her kitchen, saw her old oven, and fell in love with the idea of baking. 

It was alien to me, this whole thing about ovens. I had seen clay tandoors in India, with naans being stuck to the sides. But Katerina's kitchen was my first look at a 'proper' oven. 

It seemed like magic. Ordinary dough, transformed into pies with savoury and sweet fillings - how amazing it was! Sarikopita, spanakopita, kalitsounia...Katerina would pull all these Cretan specialties out of the oven, brown and delicious. To add to my delight, many were vegetarian, reflecting the abundant greens grown in the local farms. The typical breakfast table had some 15 baked goodies, absolutely stunning. 

But it was bread, plain bread, that caught my fancy. Fresh and warm, straight out of the oven, eaten with loads of butter, olive oil, feta and salad. 

I've been wanting to bake my own bread ever since I first ate Katerina's bread in 2007. But you know how it is. These thoughts are fleeting, and you rarely have time in your busy career to do anything about it.

The biggest problem was yeast, which is a smelly, ugly fungus, with a rotting odour that makes you wonder why you ever thought of baking anything. It's not something I am familiar with, and I didn't have the necessary initiative to go find it and tread into unfamiliar terrain. 

Then as luck would have it, I happened to find dried yeast at the food store at the Mumbai airport, when I went to pickup my in-laws who were visiting for Diwali. I plonked 350 rupees on the counter and brought it home. And finally this week, I took my first stab at baking. 

Here is the result - my first attempt at baking yesterday (which I converted into bruschetta), and my second one today (which is garnished with sesame and still whole). 

It's not as if this is a stupendous achievement, but after years of eating store-bought white bread, and having to depend on bakeries in Bandra and Colaba for better stuff, it is great to be able to bake my own bread.

More importantly, whenever I do something new, I feel good. Today it was the beauty of baking that gave me creative joy. But whether it is baking or snorkelling or climbing a mountain, I want my life to have a sense of newness and wonder all the time. I never want to be a bored, cranky, negative person who wonders how to get through the day.

In fact, I think the secret to happiness is always having many new "firsts", all through life. I hope I can keep myself open to new things, so that I never lose the joy of living. 

I think I will be baking some more. And I have Katerina to thank for it :) :)

By the way, she doesn't speak a word of English. It was all hand gestures and smiles. When we left the B&B, she gifted us her famous herbed tea, it was a bunch of wild herbs from the Cretan countryside. Aishwarya's journey into herbed tea began with Katerina's wild herbs :) And Katerina also gifted my husband a bottle of raki.

When people talk about travel and how it brings strangers closer, I always think about Katerina and how she introduced me to herbed tea and baking.

Why I love Navratri season

- By Janaki Krishnan

For youngsters, Navratri is a time of dance and merriment, through playing dandiya with friends and loved ones. It is said that at the end of the nine nights, young people end up finding the perfect life partner. For older people, Navratri is a time to show their devotion through prayer and fasting. I don't fall into either of these categories, because I can neither dance nor fast!

But I still love Navratri. When I was in school, our house would host Navratri celebrations. My sister and I would go round inviting other South Indian ladies in Matunga for vettalai pakku (pan supari). 

Navratri 'golu' display at 
Dr. Jayashree Rajagopalan's house

When we visited other houses to see their 'golu' displays, the lady of the house would ask us to sing a song for Devi before giving us prasad. My sister, a good Carnatic singer, would use every opportunity to show her skill, while I was more interested in the packets of prasad. 

My sister and I
(she is wearing blue, I am in red)

I would open the prasad eagerly as soon as we got home. Usually it would contain various types of chundal (boiled chickpeas and pulses of various types, sauteed and garnished in many ways). 

We would prefer to go visiting people on Tuesdays and Fridays, when the prasad would be sweet! Kozhakattai, shira, neiappam, these were all wonderful delights to look forward to.

Today at eighty years, I find that while my hearing, sense of smell and sight have deteriorated, my sense of taste has only become sharper! When I was working I never had any time to do anything; but retirement has given me all the time in the world. I intend to do full justice to it, and to my taste buds!

One of the many delights of Navratri: White chana chundal, with red chilli, mustard, curry leaves and fresh grated coconut

Kozhakattai, with jaggery and coconut stuffing

These days, apart from the prasad, I also enjoy the various gifts that I get during Navratri when I visit friends and family. I now have at least a dozen coconuts to last me for a whole month! And innumerable blouse-pieces to match all sorts of sarees. Here is a photo of all the things I got this season: steel dabbas of various sizes, plates, bowls, shopping bags, handbags, and sarees. 

Now do you see why I love this festival? 

Article by Janaki Krishnan; Photos by Deepa Krishnan; Inputs/edits by Aishwarya Pramod