Sunday, February 24, 2008

WOMEN’S DAY OUT

The Attukal Pongala-it is a literal test of how much heat you can take. If the Olympics is a test of endurance, this one follows right behind. Best of all, it’s a ladies only affair.

The whole city shuts down and as for the poor men-NO ENTRY anywhere- on the roads or bylanes until the pongala is over and done with. They are reduced to staying indoors all day. ( A taste of how restrictive it can be for women?)

Considering the discomfort of lakhs of female devotees who throng Trivandrum and literally sleep on the roads, bus stands or railway stations the night before, I had it easy. I was in a relative’s home in Manakkad, and along with 50 others performed the pongala in the relative comfort of a tree-lined courtyard. The courtyard also had a swing, which thankfully, kept Appu occupied all day. I sent a prayer of thanks heavenwards as the heat of the day, combined with the heat of 50 odd fires, and billowing clouds of smoke made its presence felt.

The best part about the ritual-every home in the neighborhood, opens its doors and kitchens to the devotees, religion be damned. In a true show of solidarity, women lend a helping hand to their brethren and try and ease the discomforts associated with a festival that sees the number of devotees increasing year by year.

As the day ended; I was left with memories of a night spent walking to the market to get coconut-shell ladles at 10 o’clock in an all women group( this is unheard of in good old Trivandrum), the chatter, the yummy payasam and the “manda puttu” (a dish made of rice flour and gram flour, flavored with jaggery), the afternoon naps, the gossiping and the religious fervor of the whole ritual.

I count the deep satisfaction I felt at the end of the day a blessing indeed from the benevolent goddess.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

HEART WARMING

4:15 am: Yours truly and hubby dear lugging bricks up to our 7th floor home. A bucket of sand included in the end, which sent Appu into raptures as he gleefully imagined the havoc he could wreck to our home once he got his busy little hands on it.

4:30 am: Wearing the Settu Mundu and discovering to my chagrin that it mysteriously had a very short pallu. How could I have gotten it on the other way around???

4:55 am: Everyone out on the balcony or strategically placed near windows; eyes streaming and gasping for breath thanks to the smoke from the homam.

8:00 am: Frantic phone calls to the caterer as to why the idli-vada-sambar and idiyappam hadn’t turned up yet. The accusing looks of hungry people striking like arrows….

9:00 am: In the middle of “And here’s our kitchen”; expecting to hear oohs and aahs, but hearing “yikes”, “what the hecks” and a few other choice expletives instead. Our kitchen had sprouted a shower. I was ready to add to the water works when the facilities men trooped in and with a twist of the wrench put everything back in order again.

9:15 am: Yours truly was in the kitchen when I smelt it. The unmistakable smell of cooking gas. After a frantic hunt I decided to turn off the regulator. The next 15 minutes were spent reassuring everyone who came into the kitchen (to let me know that they could smell leaking gas) that I had shut off the regulator. (Most unfair that my reputation in the kitchen always precedes me. Couldn’t they trust me enough to complete such a simple task properly?)

9:30 am: Happy smiles all around. The food had arrived and consumed with much gusto.

11:30 am to 4 pm: Streams of visitors. Much laughter and shared memories. More yummy food. And aching feet; of course.

4:30 pm: Quick saree change. Watching the Tirumeni draw the intricate and colorful “kalam”. More poojas and blessings.

6:00 pm: Appu insisting on opening all the “prizes” and losing interest once he saw that none of them contained any toys. But cheering up once he realized the colorful wrapping paper made a lot of noise and could be torn with impunity.

Next Day:

Cosmos Mall shopping trip: Wellhome: We were to buy stuff worth 5000 bucks to avail of the 50% off discount on everything. The whole store filled with our relatives. Hubby dear hollering out at 3:30 pm “Sondakarum, bhandakarum ellavarum billing counterlekyu varuga” and half the salespeople dissolving into peals of laughter. Final bill: Rs 13, 500 worth of the exact same curtains, cushions and rugs that are in our home.

4:00 pm: Airport: Bidding a tearful goodbye to hubby dear’s grandmother, a gritty old lady in a pristine white settu mundu and sweatshirt.

7:00 pm: Herding 20 odd relatives to Krishnarajapuram railway station with some 100 odd pieces of luggage. (Thank you god, nobody had come up with the brilliant idea of going by bus.)

11:30 pm: Quiet reigns. We high five each other on a mission well accomplished.