Of courage in the face of death

Of late, I have been reading quite a few books on loss and grief. It all began with a brief from the editor of Women's Web for an article on 5 Books To Read When Dealing With Grief. There were a few books that I had read, but not many seemed to fit in with the aspect of healing after a loss. I looked around the blogs I usually read - approaching Indian Home Maker about the books that helped her to cope with the loss of her daughter, Tejaswee. I also asked a blogger friend, Vibha Sharma for her inputs. These were extremely helpful in deciding the books featured in the article.

Here is one of the books I came across in my search. Also cross-posted at Zealot Readers.

pic courtesy kobobooks.com.au

Mick...Send Me A Butterfly
Written by Lorraine Grennan
Revised edition published by Love of Books Self Publishing.

Death is always disturbing.  Even if the person has passed away peacefully after a long and productive life. Even when it is of someone one knows only slightly. Even if it is the death of a loved fictional character. Even if it is someone one has never heard of before. What makes us react this way to a death? Why are we touched by the finger of sorrow even if we have not directly suffered this loss? Isn't it the realisation of our own mortality?

The everyday news items about deaths in the newspaper disturb me - I make it a point never to read these pages early in my day, especially if it is the death of a child or a violent death that is featured.

So when it is a dear one whose death we are dealing with, it can be devastating. And when it is a parent who has to deal with a child's death, it becomes doubly so. Somehow we expect to die before our children. It is, we feel, the natural order of things. After all, life goes on in a forward direction. Children are born of our bodies, and are our hope for the future. A way for nature to ensure that we do not disappear into nothingness. A way to keep a part of us alive on this beautiful earth. In a strange way, we become immortal through our children, and our children's children, and so on. So, it is terrible indeed, when things go the other way. When a parent has to see the suffering of a child, and the relentless descent into the big void of death. Whether it comes suddenly or after a long and debilitating illness.

Lorraine Grennan's book, 'Mick...Send Me A Butterfly' is a memoir of her son Michael Stewart Grennan's fight with Chronic Myloid Leukaemia. He was diagnosed with the disease on 29th August 1981, and passed away on 23rd March 1983 at just 20 years of age - a period of one year and seven months of facing the monster. 23rd March 2013, was the 30th anniversary of his death, and this is a tribute to his fighting spirit. One that has surely touched many lives that came in contact with his courage and forbearance.

At 18, Mick was your regular teenager, having a girlfriend and a job at a gas station, plenty of friends and a loving family. He had his whole life in front of him, when the disease crept up on him unbeknownst. It was diagnosed after a series of tests for symptoms that seemed like arthritis. It was a punch in the solar plexus, to put it mildly. Ms Grennan writes about how they all coped with the reality of impending death in their own ways. It was devastating, and something that they never could come to terms with. At such a time, Mick showed a maturity beyond his years and became the source of his family's strength, preparing them for his death and the time after it, in unusually thoughtful ways that Ms Grennan has put down with complete honesty of emotion. It does not fail to move, and I had to put the book away at times to bring my own emotions to order. She recounts the shock, the denial, the coping with the treatment (with its own consequences) and the bewilderment of a layperson thrust into the unending medical visits. She speaks of her faith and that of her family and friends, that gave them the strength to cope with the inevitable - both before and after Mick's passing away.

Ms Grennan also writes very honestly about the feelings of loss, guilt, and helplessness that overcame her and the other members of her family after Mick passed away. How every person grieves in a different way, a way very personal to that person, the way they perceive their loss, the way they deal with it. The way that coping with grief does not have a timeline, and that even after we learn to let go, the grief is still very real for the bereaved person. And that healing does come, in its own way to each person.

After his passing away, Ms Grennan was introduced to The Compassionate Friends, a group started by similarly bereaved parents, and it helped her deal with her feelings of grief. Intense feelings that she often wondered about- if they were normal. Ms Grennan has since worked extensively as a volunteer in its chapter in her hometown in New South Wales, Australia. Her work since has helped thousands of bereaved people come to terms with their loss.

This memoir, which is written in almost a diary-like fashion, draws the reader into their lives. A peek into the extraordinary courage of ordinary people. It has been a privilege.

Blog tour day 1: Bijoy and the Big River

pic courtesy tulika books

Bijoy and the Big River
Written by Meera Sriram and Praba Ram
Published by Tulika Books
Ages 10+

The Brahmaputra. Called Burha Luit by the Assamese. The lives of the locals are closely tied to the river. Both the good and the bad times - the Big River affects it all.

This is the story of Bijoy, a young boy from a farming community that produces the famed Eri Silk, or ahimsa silk - the silkworms aren't killed in the production unlike those that breed on mulberry - as it is also known. A quiet, verdant, idyllic place, on a farm where Bijoy stays with Ma and Deuta (father in Assamese). It is a good life, even if the river sometimes destroys everything in its path during floods.

On an average day, Bijoy helps his father to look after the silkworms feeding on the castor leaves. To gather the silk after the eri moths have flown away out of the open ended cocoon. And to transport the silk to the village of Sualkuchi by canoe with Deuta after his mother has spun and reeled out the threads. It is hard work, but there is adventure as well, as when the xihu (pronounced hihu, the now endangered Gangetic Dolphin, also found in the Brahmaputra) are sighted along the way on the river, in large groups sometimes. Or when he sees the big city sights of tourist boats at Guwahati, enroute to Saulkuchi.

After a similar book with Tulika, Dinaben and the Lions of Gir, where the the authors introduce us to the Maldhari commmunity of Gujarat, Meera Sriram and Praba Ram have come up with another winner. This time they write about a farming family from Assam, in the far north-east of India. Praba, the founder of our beloved Saffrontree, and Meera, who was a contributor until recently, are both champions of a good cause - sustainable living, closer to nature. This book is exactly what would be expected as their brain-child:  This is what they have to say about how the germ of an idea became this book.

Bijoy's story has illustrations by Koel Basu, bare sketches that are evocative of the villages of Assam, as well as photographs by various contributors. Along with the tidbits as marginalia, we learn a lot about life as a silk farmer in this far North-Eastern state. This book is a welcome addition by Tulika books, as this part of our country is vastly under-represented in children's literature.

An extra tidbit:  Burha=ancient, Luit=blood. The legend goes that Brahma had a son by the wife of a sage, who was then abandoned at a place between the hills. The child took the form of water, which became the Brahmakund. Parashuram, having killed his own mother after being ordered to by his father, had the bloodstained axe stuck to his hand. As penance, he was told to release the waters for the people living in the valleys and plains. He axed down the mountains holding the waters, which started flowing as the river Brahmaputra - literally, Brahma's son - that brought sustenance to the locals. This released the axe as well as washed the blood off it. Brahmaputra is thus the only river in India that is masculine; all others are feminine.

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This will be a five-day-long blog tour - with five different perspectives. Here are the dates and places where our readers can find Bijoy and the Big River.

March 18th - Saffron Tree.. Posted by me. Yay, the first review of this book!
March 19th - Literary Sojourn. Vibha Sharma.
March 20th - The not-so artful dodger. Artnavy.
March 21st - Mamma of Twins. Itchingtowrite.
March 22nd - The Mad Momma. Lavanya D / Prateek.

Do visit!

Cross-posted at Saffrontree.

Book Review: The Deadly Royal Recipe

Masterchef meets Inkheart meets The Famous Five meets Bollywood. That is Ranjit Lal's latest book by Duckbill publishers, The Deadly Royal Recipe for you.

pic courtesy flipkart

The Deadly Royal Recipe
Written by Ranjit Lal
Published by Duckbill
Ages 10+

Zafira is a lonely, homeschooled-till-now princess, who comes from an extraordinary royal family. The family has an ancient tradition of excellent cooks among its scions, and consequently, the House of Kamargarh is legendary, almost revered among culinary circles.

The principality, placed around the north-west of Delhi, has a sinister neighbouring Rajah who has evil designs on its most protected treasure - a Masterbook of royal recipes handed down through the ages. These are written in a code that only members of the royal family can understand. So he does the obvious. He kidnaps Princess Zafira and her new-found school friends and holds them for a royal ransom - you guessed it - the Masterbook.

What follows is a nail-biting, edge-of-the-seat narrative that had us wanting to know what happened next; and what the recipe is that is royal as well as deadly.

There are some spine-chilling and seriously yuck moments - a la Roald Dahl - that one needs to be a preteen/adolescent to be able to stomach, and a lot of suspension of disbelief is required. That, however, is part of this thriller's charm, and Ranjit Lal seems to have his finger firmly on his readers' pulse. I would be less than honest if I don't say this: the book does not aspire to any literary greatness. It does, however, entertain, keep the reader engrossed (grown-up readers too); a well-crafted story that children will thoroughly enjoy. My daughter A finished it in one sitting, reading late into the night, loath to put it down for the next day.

The one grouse we both had with the book is: the delicious, mouthwatering food that is described, and the recipes discussed and savoured (yummy) are supposed to be found at a website that is given at the end of the book. Sadly, this site is a fictitious one, (we both checked, separately, unbeknownst to each other, and found out only while comparing notes) part of the narrative. A request to the author, and the publishers, if they read this - please do create such a site. That would be the tadka on this recipe.

Crossposted at Saffrontree.

Of gendered tales

An article of mine, titled The Barbification of India has recently been published on Womensweb. What is it about?

For the past couple of years, my daughter has been struggling a lot with this business of what’s cool and what’s not, as far as my daughter’s peers are concerned: it had been proclaimed cool to be in the know about the latest movies, television programmes, Bollywood actors, pop singers, pop teen idols and Gangnam style - not necessarily in that order - along with sporting those Hannah Montana tees and neon tights. One child actually had a beach scene complete with figures lolling around in bikinis in as cake decoration in a beach themed party for her birthday. One can imagine the messages being given to these children. Yes, they are children at 11-12 years, never mind the self-possession and worldly airs. By these standards, my book-loving child, who has more sober tastes in music, clothes and everything else, who does not consider dancing to 'Sheila ki Jawani' as particularly desirable and who does reasonably well at academics is labelled uncool, a nerd!

These are the same peers whose idols were Barbie and the Disney Princesses not so long ago. Barbie might have been originally a teen icon for feminists at a time (the late 50s) when most women were not expected to step out of the home for a career, but over time it has evolved into a feminist’s worst nightmares. For one, the demographics have changed from teens to pre-teens; sometimes even younger. With her impossibly top-heavy figure (if extrapolated to adult female size, the measurements of 36-18-38 are near impossible in real life), long slim legs and vacuous sexuality, Barbie sends a skewed body image message to girls who buy into the unhealthy eating patterns that this propagates. A friend’s 7 year old refuses to eat fruits because her peers say they will make her fat.

To top it all, most Barbies come with accessories, clothes and domestic items in pepto-bismol shades of pink and purple that has spawned an entire parallel range of girls’ merchandise in similar colours complete with glitter and bling. Since the past few years, Barbie is available in India in an Indian avatar, complete with traditional Indian costumes, families, and the 'great Indian Culture'.

Most of these problems are shared by the Disney Princesses. A brain-child of Disney’s marketing executive Andy Mooney at the beginning of this century, it was a masterstroke of franchise that spawned a multimillion-dollar industry in dolls, clothes, accessories and other merchandise, a model that manufacturers for children have repeated over and over again with many other popular fictional characters. Considering the cool quotient of the movies, television shows and such, this was a shrewd business move.

Pink for girls and blue for boys! This polarisation by gender ensures double the sales for companies with vested interests. Younger children playing with toys originally targeted towards an older group has also created a demand for clothes unsuitable for that age. As utbtkids, a fellow blogger puts it, “if you are looking for non-pink, non-Disney characters, slightly loose, appropriate clothing, something that will withstand the running and climbing, and something that is not a mini version of adult clothing you might as well grow your own cotton and weave your own clothes.” Boys, too, suffer due to these brand and franchise excesses. A neighbour refuses to let her one year old son associate with anything even remotely considered feminine, in his clothes or choice of toys. Everything has to be only in shades of ‘manly’ colours, and aggressively in the realm of the ‘boyish’!

Most people see nothing wrong with girls playing ‘house’ with dolls, dressing up, having idols that promote domestication along with a sexualised self-image, and boys, at the other end of the spectrum, being encouraged to be sporty, playing ‘out there’, indulging in large motor activities geared towards being powerful. It is perceived as perfectly natural. They couldn’t be more wrong.

Children’s play always reinforces cultural messages, as they learn patterns of behaviour through it. Peggy Orenstein, social psychologist and author of Cinderella Ate My Daughter, puts it wonderfully well: “At issue, then, is not nature or nurture but how nurture becomes nature: the environment in which children play and grow can encourage a range of aptitudes or foreclose them. So blithely indulging — let alone exploiting — stereotypically gendered play patterns may have a more negative long-term impact on kids’ potential than parents imagine.” 

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Also check out my review of the first part of Amruta Patil's retelling of the Mahabharat: Adi Parva, a feminist view, also on Womensweb. A wonderful book.

Balancing Act - Working Mom or SAHM?

It all began with the many conversations with Choxbox over these things. Then Starry wrote this piece which discussed if it it really was a choice - being a WM or SAHM.

So when I came across this book, I immediately picked it up.

pic credit flipkart

Balancing Act
Written by Meera Godbole Krishnamurthy
Zubaan-Penguin publication

Tara Mistri is a high-achieving student, professionally trained, all set on an upward career graph, when along comes marriage, children, and everything that comes with it. Husband earns well enough for the family, making it essentially unnecessary for her to go out and earn a living. Unless you count her dissatisfaction with it all. A feeling of not being with it all that sets in.

Tara has a personal Yakshi (yuk-she, as she sometimes calls her) who keeps hounding her, chipping away at her defensiveness of the situation. Now don't we all have our own personal Yakshis? That little voice that niggles away at our conscience, making us hear home truths, whether we recognise them or not? Anyway, I digress.

Now Tara has had a few years away from the 'real world', as everyone around her puts it. Ennui has set in. Although she loves her children to bits, and wouldn't want to exchange her time with them for anything, there has been something of the soul-destroying in the cloistered existence she has been leading. This is more so because people- extended family, friends and acquaintances alike think she is being the 'good housewife'- making it seem like a situation out of her control. So why is she still at home? It feels as if it is to fulfil some role-model destiny that she has no say in. She feels as if everyone pities her, views her with a thinly disguised contempt for just 'letting go' and 'going with the flow'. It comes to a point where she feels patronised even by her extremely supportive husband and her dearest friend, a careerist woman who has no intentions of 'settling down to domesticity'.

What does Tara do about it? Does she manage to silence the annoying Yakshi? How does she deal with the feeling of inadequacy that colours everything she does and every relationship in her life? What about the demon of 'societal expectations'? Does she end up on a path chalked out for her by others' expectations, her own boulder on the shoulder, or does she carve out her own way? Is the choice finally made for her, or does she choose it herself? What, finally, is this path she walks on, and how does that affect things?

Balancing Act is a book worth reading, by anyone who has had to question the why of what she is doing with her life? Career woman? Stay-at-home-mom? I was not completely convinced as to her reasons for choosing what Tara finally did, but at least it was her choice, weighed against the road not taken.

Further, the book is not just about the pros and cons of working outside the home or not. It is also a search for identity. Of who we are, what we want from life in the broader sense, in the micro sense. Our place under the sun. Balancing the intricacies of relationships- spouse, mother, friend, daughter- and demanding that the counterparts in turn take a hard look at how they relate to you. A feminist viewpoint.

We, as women, have far more choices in our lives than our mothers had. How we exercise those choices so that we can have a fulfilling life, is what this book is all about. It is an engrossing read. There were some places that made me think, introspect; keep the book down for a while.

A book that must be read, so relevant to the current tug-of-war between working moms and stay-at-home-moms. Thanks, Starry and The Mad Momma for the links.

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As an aside, or rather as a logical continuation of the thought process here, it is all about what you choose. We are often not given access to choices, or we are presented with choices that are not real choices at all. Even more dangerously, sometimes we have an illusion of having a choice, or of actually choosing what we want, when society decides what you may or may not have an opinion on. A fool's paradise of sorts. It usually is a happy state of matters for the person, as they do not realise that they are being duped.

As the saying goes- 'Suraj nikale, tab savera'- all about new beginnings and second chances. It is when one makes informed choices, without being told they cannot choose this or the other option, that there is real peace to be found. Which sometimes seems like a long, long way away. Far on the horizon. But real, not a mirage!

Standing up...kid style

There has been a lot of standing up for oneself and setting of boundaries that I have been reading about at Starry's blog. Made me think a lot about my own behaviour in the matter.

I had been quite a militant feminist in my teen years. Somewhere along the way, I have morphed into a closet feminist. Somehow got stuck in a rut of my comfort zone. Have been taking baby steps towards getting out of it, but not sure how long I shall take to get even close to getting there. I owe it to my child.

So the child is growing older and needing help dealing with peer interaction. As always, we turn to books- our best friends.

Last year, the tooth fairy (oh, yes, we still believe in those, and Santa, a la The Polar Express) got A a book that she has thoroughly enjoyed. It has been her constant companion over the past year, given that peer interaction is becoming more and more important. Thanks to her petite built and a possibly outdated interest in books and such, she is often the target of those who think they know better. As parents, we keep talking to her about it whenever an 'incident' happens, even stressing on the fact that every person is special in their own way, and that a lot of what those girls say doesn't become true even if it feels like that. That she has so many wonderful gifts that a lot of those girls do not have. That she just needs to ignore most of that behaviour. And at times, stand up for herself and what she thinks is right.

So when she came across this book on amightygirl.com, the tooth fairy thought it would be good thing to get her.

pic courtesy amightygirl.com

Stand Up For Yourself  & Your Friends
Written by Patti Kelley Criswell
Illustrated by Angela Martini
Published by American Girl Publishing
Ages 8+

We begin by defining bullying. It can be many things, but it is mostly about power. And not all bullies are the stereotypical big, tall, loud, intimidating person. Think Miss Agatha Trunchbull from Matilda. Oh, no, they come in different packages, and at one time or another, any one of us could bully someone else.

The book then goes on to deconstruct the politics of bullying as it occurs, and the strategies to handle it. It is peppered with real incidents reported by real girls, the way they handled it, and a lot of expert-speak on each incident. There are short, snappy, two-page chapters on each topic, with full colour illustrations.

There are also many quizzes the reader can take, like 'Is this bullying?' on identifying which behaviours would qualify as bullying, 'What's your speak-up style?' on how you would deal with a given situation and 'What do you stand for?' on your beliefs about friendship. The very practical and easy to apply tips by experts and kids themselves make for a much appreciated 'cool' factor. Or at least I have been informed so by the kid, who dips into the book often for inspiration.

There is also plenty for the bewildered adult who might be the bystander, the authority figure who may have to tackle a potentially explosive situation, or the parent who has to deal with either end of the bullying episode- the bully or the victim. Much that can be used by the adult in their own interaction with power struggles among their peers too.

A book that can be applied at all levels, with sound strategies that can be extrapolated to situations even beyond the scope of the book. And even though I place it at 8+, younger children can benefit from it too- as more and more, these things happen at a younger age in today's world.

The book has an accompanying journal that I'm sure the tooth fairy is currently considering. A journal full of quizzes, checklists and charts that I'm sure the child will enjoy working on with her own experiences.

Crossposted at Saffrontree.

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And while on the topic of standing up - here is my review on Women's Web of Warrior in a Pink Sari- an autobiographical account of Sampat Pal and her Gulabi Gang.

Of rising above a parent's life-choices

How many parents think about how their life choices affect their children? I am not speaking of parenting choices here. I am speaking of choices that we make for our self, or those that are made for us by significant others in our life. How much will my not working, despite a professional degree affect my daughter's life? Would that bare fact mold her thinking, or will the reasons behind that make a difference? Will she be able to see things from my POV?

Speaking for myself as a daughter, I began to really understand my mother only after I became a parent, and a lot more as I am growing older. I can now look beyond the strict parent whose strictures I so resented to the woman behind the facade. She is an intelligent, strong, principled woman, unfortunately married into a family that could never understand her - yes, my father's side was, and still is strongly patriarchal, and has managed to stifle my mother. I have very recently begun to appreciate the fact that her choices were often not real choices, and a lot of what I remember was a function of the times she lived in. Of late, I have been having conversations with my father about how he could have done differently by her. He, too, I realise now, was a victim of the system, and actually thinks that things were fine. He listens to me, fortunately, me being the favourite daughter.

Children like to make up stories. Watch a bunch of kids play-acting and one is amazed at the imagination and creativity they come up with together. What if there is the possibility that the story might be real? What if the story turns your view of the world upside down?

Here's a book that made me introspect: what do my actions convey to my daughter? Do my unfortunate choices taint her life? Do the good ones uplift her? How much is it possible for a child to lift themselves above the effects of their parents' choices?

pic courtesy flipkart

Hitler's Daughter
Written by Jackie French
Published by HarperCollins Children's Books
Ages 8-12

Mark, Anna, Tracey and Ben play a story game as they wait for their school bus every day. They have stories of fairies, of ball games and of horses. Until one day Anna decides to tell a story. It is an amazing story set on the fringes of a great war. It is the story of a child growing up tucked away from all the action, a privileged child who is kept safe despite not being the blue-eyed, blond, tall Aryan ideal, a child hungry for family and love, holding on to memories of the few-and-far between visits of her father. A father who obviously is somebody important. Important enough that people around her who have always taken care of her are in mortal fear of displeasing him. We are told early enough that the child, Heidi, is Hitler's daughter.

Anna's story focuses on the genocide from the outside in, raising many questions in Mark's mind. What if one's parent or child has done something really evil- how does one deal with such a parent/ child? Does one love them regardless? Do the sins of our parents taint us irrevocably, or is there redemption? Do the actions of someone dear reflect on us as individuals? How does society look upon those who stand in evil's shadow? Is a bad thing really a bad thing, or are we just victims of our convictions? Do we have a right to raise our hand against someone else's questionable behaviour if we, too, might be in the wrong in our own time?

These are very profound existential questions, and Jackie French, (whom ST has interviewed here), in her inimitable chatty style, raises them through Mark's thoughts, without thrusting them at us. There are also references to Australia's own genocide-  the colonial actions against their Aborigine population.

It has been so realistically told that we are left wondering if Hitler indeed, did have a daughter that no-one knows about. Also, it is an unusual look at the Holocaust; a great book to introduce them to it, along with Number the Stars and When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit. There are no grisly portrayals of the deaths, as the point of view is of a privileged, though unfortunate girl.

This page-turner of a book was devoured by A in an afternoon. She has been, since, recommending it to many of her friends.

Cross-posted at Saffrontree.

On occasion of the International Day for the Girl Child - The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate

The world has very few women scientists, although the first and only person ever to have received the Nobel  in two different branches of science, was Marie Curie, a woman. It is an unfortunate, though proven fact that there is a decided gender bias against women in the STEM fields of education and careers.

The damage starts early. Gender studies have proved that girls are considered not good enough in math and the sciences. This bias is often carried by female math and science teachers too, unfortunately sending the subliminal message to girls in their formative years, that they cannot do well at these subjects. It becomes a chicken-and-egg situation, leading to fewer girls taking up the STEM faculties at higher levels.

Today, on the International Day of the Girl Child, here is a book that looks at a historically significant period in science- a time when the world was poised on the brink of the new, technologically rich world- with a scientifically inclined 12-year old girl as the protagonist.

pic courtesy flipkart

The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate
Written by Jacqueline Kelly
Published by Square Fish, an imprint of MacMillan
Ages 8+

It is the summer of 1899. The only girl in a family of seven siblings, Calpurnia Virginia Tate (Callie Vee, as she is called) is expected to apply herself to the task of crafting a lady out of herself. Her mother's sole dream for her only daughter is that she be tutored in the arts befitting a lady- music, drawing, dance, embroidery, cooking- so that she would make a stunning debut on their social circuit and land the most eligible bachelor before she becomes 'an old maid of twenty.'

There is a slight hitch in the plan, though. Callie Vee has not the slightest inclination towards these achievements, and is encouraged by her naturalist grandfather in her scientific forages. The only grandchild that matches his interests.

"The laws governing inheritance are quite unknown; no one can say why...the child often reverts in certain characters to its grandfather..." 

The Origin of Species plays a large part in the book. Each chapter begins with a fitting epigraph quoted from Darwin's book. Callie Vee knows of the book, but it is a banned book, and she has no chance absolutely of laying her hands on it. Until her formidable, cantankerous grandfather discovers her interest in, and keen observations of the strange case of large yellow and small green grasshoppers- that she dutifully notes down in her 'observations notebook.'

"He stared at me for a moment with an odd expression on his face- perhaps surprise, perhaps consternation- as if I were a species he'd never seen before...He extracted a book covered in rich green morocco leather handsomely tipped with gold. Ceremoniously, he bowed and offered it to me. I looked at it. The Origin of Species. Here, in my own house. I received it in both my hands. He smiled. Thus began my relationship with Granddaddy."

It was a beginning of a wondrous journey of scientific discovery. The beginning of a dream that showed her the path out of a possible life of drudgery like countless other girls like her. A life that she could not visualise herself enjoying, no matter what her parents and society at large expected of her. The beginning of an old man's dream of at least one among his heirs carrying the light of his discoveries into the future.

This refreshing debut book by the author, Jacqueline Kelly, was devoured and thoroughly enjoyed by the resident 11 year old, who has to often be-labour under expectations from her peers, and sometimes from elders, to conform to stereotyping by her gender. Be that in clothes, interests, behaviour, dreams or priviledge. She applauded with Granddaddy, when Callie Vee ensured that she is paid for her work during the harvest season, not just the boys, and when she stressed on her right to make a choice about her life.

A has loved the book, and has been recommending it to all her friends. It makes a lot of sense to her since she has been doing evolution and taxonomy at school this year. She also identifies with Callie Vee on a more basic level - she has often been the butt of jokes among her peers for being different - more science and literature minded than the average 11 year old girl, not so interested in what is considered 'cool behaviour.'

Here is some talk with the author, Jacqueline Kelly. I did a google-search for contact information, and Ms Kelly responded promptly and graciously to my questions, despite a busy schedule on account of the forthcoming release of a new book.

pic courtesy bookpeople.com

Me: You have a medical background. How and why did this book happen?
Jacqueline Kelly: I prefer not to talk about my medical past, but I can say that I have wanted to be a writer my whole life.

Me: Did the idea of using quotes from 'The Origin of Species' occur to you after the book was drafted, or was it one of the things that inspired the book?
Jacqueline Kelly: The quotes came after I had finished the book. I then read Darwin's entire work looking for appropriate quotes that would best fit each chapter. Some of them fit amazingly well, and some of them didn't. By the way, Darwin wrote the book for a general audience, and not for scientists, so it is an amazingly accessible read. I recommend it.

Me: Why was the story placed in Texas?
Jacqueline Kelly: The story was placed in Texas because it was inspired by a 150-year-old farmhouse I bought years ago in Fentress. The house in the book was my house. Sadly, it was struck by lightning and burned to the ground three years ago. I still miss it badly. I wrote large parts of the book sitting on the front porch as Callie did, waiting for something to hop or scurry or fly by and give me something to write about.

Me: I was deeply moved as I finished the book and put it down. Somehow I was not convinced that Callie's parents had taken her scientific temperament very seriously, and might renege on any support when Granddaddy is no longer around. Have you left Callie Vee's fate hanging like that on purpose? Is there a sequel in the offing that might put girls' minds at rest regarding that concern? (This is something that has been bothering my 11 year old daughter!)
Jacqueline Kelly: I didn't mean to be quite as vague as I apparently was about Callie's future. But fear not, there is a sequel in the works that will make everything clear! I have only recently started it, so I don't yet know when it will be published.

Me: That is certainly we would be looking out for. Speaking of sequels, could you tell us a little bit about your next book, Return to the Willows, that we are waiting eagerly for? I believe it is being released on October 23rd 2012.
Jacqueline Kelly: Return to the Willows was inspired by my life-long love of Kenneth Grahame's The Wind in the Willows, a book I have loved since reading it in bed with the flu' at age eight.
I have loved his book for so long, and his characters have lived in my head for so long, that I thought I would write a sequel as a tribute to him, my way of saying thank-you for creating Rat and Mole and Toad and Badger. (Well, maybe not Toad.)

That makes it three new books that we have on our reading wish-list. The Origin of Species, the full text of which is available here online, Return to the Willows and the forthcoming sequel that will tell us more about what happened to Callie Vee.

Cross-posted at Saffrontree.

Of Ganesha, Sweets and a Story

pic courtesy redbag.in

Ganesh Chaturthi. The 4th day of the 1st half of the Bhadrapad month. The birthday of Ganesha, as A knows it. The benign elephant-headed god who is also the deity of learning and intellect, as also the deity who is believed to remove all obstacles from our path. The scribe who is supposed to have broken off one of his teeth to use as an instrument to write down Vyas' Mahabharata - as the only one who could keep pace with the great seer's pace of narration.

pic courtesy google images

Ganesha is a deity about whom children learn very early. His place in our mythology as the destroyer of all obstacles means that we invoke him as 'Shree'- the beginning of everything. In the olden days, a child's education would begin with making a slate of rice grains in which the word Shree is inscribed holding the child's hand. This word is written at the beginning of any good that is undertaken.

The form that has been given to this deity is symbolic of the place he has in our society. There are many stories about this symbolism, most of which are stories told to children from a very early age. There are many variations on many of these stories, as befitting tales that have been part of our great oral tradition. There are many new spin-offs on these stories too. In the time homoured tradition of storytelling.

Here's a lovely book that has one such story about a naughty Ganesha, who was outwitted by his mother. The book has two award-winning stories, which were selected in a contest by Unisun Publications in collaboration with Reliance Timeout.

The Story Lady
Written by Shruthi Rao

Meenu is a little girl who loves stories. She is annoyed that her mother cannot think of any new story. How could she? For the Story Lady's bag of stories is empty. The bag that has the wispy stories that she blows around.

'Whenever a story touched a person, it dissolved into his mind, and he said, "Hey, I just thought of a story!"
People who looked for stories attracted more stories. So a great number of stories found their way to storytellers and writers, and of course, to people who have small children to look after, because little ones are always hungry for new stories."

I agreed completely with this statement. If I have a rupee for every time the kid asked me for a new story, I would be a rich woman.

So how does the Story Lady get her bag full again? How does Meenu help her? And does Meenu's mother 'think of a new story' at the end of it?

Blanket of Stars
Written by Rachna Chhabria

This is our story about Ganesha. Little Ganesha and his older brother Kartikeya both had lovely warm, soft blankets that were studded with gems. As any mother of more than one child will recognise, the younger one was not happy with his blanket, and thought his older brother had the one with more gemstones.

So one night, the naughty little Ganesha summoned all the stars and the moon from the sky to his blanket, and locked it up so that Kartikeya would not be able to get them.

Now this was a very fine state of affairs indeed. Night after night there was no sign of the moon and the stars, and all people and gods began to get worried. They thought that a very powerful creature had attacked heaven, and went to Lord Shiva for help.

'"This powerful creature will not listen to us,' Lord Shiva said. 'But, it will definitely listen to its mother.'"

So what happens next? How does the powerful creature's mother manage to retrieve the moon and the stars?

Two lovely stories, by writers who are worth watching.

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And how did we celebrate Ganesh Chaturthi? I made Ukdiche Modak, or modak as they are commonly known, in the typical Marathi style.

And here is a video from Sanjeev Kapoor's Khana Khazana that demonstrates how to make this delectable sweet.


  
   

Enjoy! Ganapathi Bappa Morya!

Cross-posted at Saffrontree.

The Harry Potter Chronicles 3

Today is day 2 of Harry Potter week over at Zealot Readers. Check out A's review of HP 2 at the site.

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The cover pictures on the first and second Harry Potter books are a tribute to the ubiquitousness of technology. Never mind the magic.

Witches and wizards have unique means of transport. Magical creatures that fly, broomsticks, portkeys, floo powder, magic carpets (Arabian Nights?) and of course, Disapparition. Why, then, should they require cars, trains, buses and such? And if there is a reason for that, what did they use before these technological advances came to be?

In the world of Hogwarts, too, there is such a thing as being underage. There is also the concept of having to learn how to disapparate-apparate. So those who haven't yet mastered the art have to use other means.

All the other means listed above have the disadvantage of getting noticd by muggles, thus breaching the Statute of Secrecy. So, to be able to travel without standing out, as well as having means of mass transport, the said vehicles must have been adopted. How, then, could a car accomodate more than its capacity? Undetectable Extension Charm!

And before these came along? Why, I suppose the magical people simply used what the muggles did- carriages and stagecoaches!

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In HP 2, we are introduced to one of the most loved characters of the whole series. Dobby. Children love him. My daughter does, so do I. He is the underdog, the enslaved house-elf of the Malfoys, who is serendipitously freed by Harry.

The book begins with Dobby getting Harry into trouble. Ostentatiously for his own good. For Dobby knows something due to his position in the Malfoys' household. The servant who is taken for granted, and who we never take into consideration when we openly speak about things. We take their loyalty for granted, and consider them less than human with no feelings of their own at the same time. This is a recurring refrain throughout the series. The house-elves Dobby, Winky, Kreacher, all with their different personalities, reacting differently to similar situations. A point to be discussed again later.

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HP 1 was all about introducing us to the world of Hogwarts, a child's view of it. Things become more serious from HP 2. Here, JK Rowling plunges headlong into her message about discrimination on the basis of birth. The whole refrain of pure-bloods and mudbloods that continues to the end of the series comes forth here. We had just a glimpse into it in HP 1, through Draco Malfoy's comments and behaviour, but that was just a child parroting his elder's beliefs. Here, it comes into its own.

JK Rowling has very obviously alluded to the Holocaust. The idea is woven very intricately in the books. The ganging together, the name-calling, the hatred that further breeds hatred and distrust, the muggle hating, the degeneratin of the whole thing into segregating of magical folk into death-eaters and those who are not. The sheer force of destruction that such hatred can engender.

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We have some interestingly named characters that come to our notice in this book.

Peeves: A peeve is something that irritates or causes vexation. Peeves, here, is a poltergeist who loves to play practical jokes, and is uncaring of people's feelings in the matter. He is the one character who is bold enough to be rude even to Dumbledore.

Argus Filch:  Argus, in Greek mythology, is a giant with one hundred eyes who was the watchman for the goddess Hera. Filch means 'to steal', usually in a sneaky manner.
So we have Argus Filch, who snoops around, steals around Hogwarts, patrolling its corridors, and trying to catch anyone breaking the rules. He is a squib, a non-magical person born into a wizarding family, and he is consequentially a disgruntled person. A passive-aggressive sort of personality, who comes fully into his own when assisting someone who is respectably evil, like Umbridge, in HP 5.

Gilderoy Lockhart: To gild means 'give a specious or false brilliance to'. Gilderoy is all words and no substance, the proverbial empty vessel. A show-off with no achievement of his own. The dandy who talks glibly, and takes complete advantage of the effect of his looks on gullible women!

The Harry Potter Chronicles 1

It is the long awaited Harry Potter week over at one of the other blogs I write for, Zealot Readers. We shall be tackling the 7 HP books over the next 7 days, from 11th August- 18th August. We have thoughts by the adult contributors, as well as by children who contribute. Check out this review of HP 1 by my daughter A.

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The first book, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, begins with the sentence: "Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much." The ordinariness of the Dursleys is the perfect foil, the main counter-point to the magical world of Harry and Hogwarts. Making the wizarding world larger than life. The 'other' to our Muggle lives. The perfect adventure for children who are wont to believe in magic.

Harry carries the echos of the muggle world with him into the wizarding world. When he is unaware of things (like Quidditch, the gateway to platform 3/4, etc.) that a wizard would take for granted. When he gets startled by the moving pictures on the Chocolate Frog Cards. When he receives the 50 pence that the Dursleys send him for Christmas 'sellotaped' to the note.

When he is not intimidated by Voldemort's name, as it is just another name to him. Even if he is told that Voldemort is the one who killed his parents, he is not weighed down by the collective memory of terror that everyone in the wizarding world is.

"'...and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort-'
Ron gasped.
'What?' said Harry.
'You said You-Know-Who's name!' said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. 'I'd have thought you, of all people-'
'I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name,' said Harry. 'I just never knew you shouldn't'"

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The protagonists of this book are at just the right age. Not only does the age match with that at which children in the UK start grade school, but it is ideal for the premise of the book. 11 is an age when children are able to be without their parents. It is also the age when they are able to handle the strangeness of a new circumstances on their own. As it certainly would be for children which came from muggle backgrounds. It is also the age when children haven't yet come out of their childhood, and there is yet a belief in the possibility of magic. Again ideal for those from muggle households.

HP1 is very much in the mold of the school stories like Tom Brown's Schooldays, What Katy Did At School or the various school books by Enid Blyton. This appeals a great deal to children who find it familiar ground.  With a difference, of course!

Cross-posted at Zealot Readers..

Book Review: The Help

Pic courtesy flipkart

Just put down The Help, after a marathon session of reading. The last time I read a book this size, non-stop, in two days -with bits of cooking, getting kid ready for school, etc. interspersed - was when I read The Deathly Hallows overnight. I just could not put the book down.

The Help
Written by Kathryn Stockett
Published by Penguin books

Sensitively written, the story is about the unusual friendship between privileged, white women and the black maids that actually run the household, in the Deep South, Mississippi state, in the early 1960s.

Almost a century after the Civil War that freed the blacks from slavery, things haven't changed overmuch. OK, they are now paid for the work they do, but much else is the same. The segregation, the distrust, the racism, the exploitation, even the belief that the black people are 'not the same as us normal humans'. (One can almost substitute words like women, economically backward, blue collar workers, middle class, faiths-other-than-one's-own, other nationalities, cultures, differently-abled, sexually-differently-oriented...the list could go on- for black, and the  othering would be just the same.)

The book is many things.

It is the story of a few women, on both sides of the so called black-white divide, who reach out to each other in an attempt to tell the world the other side of the loving mammy story.

It is the story of women who stand up to the dictates of a discriminatory world that puts them last in the pecking order- the rich, white, heterosexual male being at the top. No matter that he may not be the best specimen representing human beings.

It is the story of a stand-off between two erstwhile friends, both strong people, when their differing personalities and beliefs put them against each other.

It is the story of how we make judgements about people based on our limited interaction with them, and how we are sometimes pleasantly/ unpleasantly surprised by finding a completely different person when the layers of our notions are peeled away. Not everything is as black-and-white (pardon the unintended pun) as we think it is with the people around us.

It is the story of nebulous ambitions, and the power of affirmative action.

So much to learn. And especially in the Indian context, where we can readily identify with the reality of ladies-of-the-house and domestic helps. A luxury that the privileged still have in our country.

It re-affirms my belief in the fact that but for the accident of birth and circumstances, Amma, my house-help, and I are not very different. I am privileged in that she shares the ups and downs of her life with me. I wait for her in the morning like I would wait for a good friend, and it has as much to do with the fact that she eases my everyday life as with the fact that there is some genuine caring on both sides.

As Stockett's character Miss Skeeter muses, "We are just two people. Not that much separates us. Not nearly as much as I'd thought." 

If you haven't read the book yet, it is worth getting your hands on it. Will be now looking out for the movie.

P.S.: While on the topic of house-helps and maids, check out this news item about robotic maids.:)    

Dear Veena

This is an open letter to you. I have never met you. But I feel, since you are a friend of a friend, and fellow book lover, I can take this liberty. This is also a pretty longish letter, so please make yourself comfortable while you read it. 

pic courtesy goodreads

First, this has been a wonderful read. A book tailor made for the likes of me. Ever since Sangi recommended this book, I had wanted to lay my hands on it. I ordered it from flipkart. None of the book stores I visited had it on stock. They still don't. It is their loss, in my opinion.

Spoiler alert for readers other than the author: Do not read this post if you would rather read the book first.

You had me at chapter one. To Kill a Mockingbird is a favourite here too. I must have first read it around the age of 12. I got it out of the school library. (I wonder now, why I was not prevented from issuing it out in my 6th grade!) Sure, some of it went over my head at the time, but I loved it for the holiday 'adventures' of Scout and Jem. Something about it intrigued me, though, and I picked it up again when I was older, in my late teens. I understood the nuances much more then. I have revisited it a few times since, and each time, I have learnt something new, noticed something I had missed earlier. Actually, I could say this about many books I have had the good fortune to read. As it is truly said, “A classic is a book that always remains fresh, and yields something new at every reading.”  But that is more relevant to your last chapter- Read. Rinse. Repeat.

The latest in these are the Harry Potter books- books that have fascinated my daughter as much as me, and which, I am sure, we will be re-visiting many times over.

Of course, it goes without saying, as far as To Kill a Mockingbird is concerned, that I have watched the movie many times, too. As much for Harper Lee's story as for Gregory Peck, I must confess!

Let me now go from chapter to chapter. Completely agree with the curiosity about the birds and bees in chapter 2. All I came across in my innocent past were the books that a college student who would come to our house every day to oversee our homework, as my parents would not be at home in the evenings. She was an ardent fan of all things Mills & Boon, along with the auxiliaries- Barbara Cartland, Danielle Steele, and the like. She was also big-time into best sellers like Sidney Sheldons, Perry Masons, etc. Not what I'd pick up now, but then- I was fascinated by the stuff she read. I was in my 9th then, and I must admit that she was not the most scrupulous of persons, and she would let me borrow her books. I would then read them behind my school books. Curiosity did kill the cat to an extent, colouring my world-view for a long time. Somehow, I regret reading those books then. I should have put my time to better use- there were so many more wonderful books to choose from in my world. But then I was unfortunate at the time, in that I did not have much guidance on the subject.

Paper v/s Pixel? Yes, any visitor to my home will vouch for my leanings. My home is drowning in books. They are everywhere. Somehow I have never been able to adapt myself to digitized versions of books. They might have the same stuff on them, but they are just not the same. As even my 11 year old know, (thanks to Inkheart) books and characters are made up of paper and printer's ink. I agree completely with Hermione Granger when she says that one of the smells that comprise her perception of the love potion is that of freshly printed books!

Have to admit that we, too, wonder sometimes about the erstwhile owners of some of the books we pick up at used book shops. Inscriptions like- "Dear Jenny, Hope this book is something you always wanted. Love, Walter." - bring to mind The Wonder Years.

Love in the aisle- Wonderful. Escapism at its best. OK, I'll admit to being a bit different on this one. Of course I had my fantasies, but they were always, always, about having my book up there on the shelves. Mundane, I know, but true. I still have these.

The chapter about books read in Mumbai trains tickled my funny bone the most. I was laughing uncontrollably as I read it. Why? First-hand experience. As a true blue Mumbaikar, I have done my share of travelling by the local trains in amchi Mumbai.

The running on to the platform as the 7.13 fast local thundered on to the platform, dodging the oncoming crowd, to be straightaway swallowed up by the motley group desirous of getting into the already packed ladies compartment. The split second pause to allow for the commuters being regurgitated from the compartment and the rushing in to fill up the vaccum created. Quick, practiced movement towards potential seats, and asking those seated where they would be getting off- I know it is an irksome practice, but I look at it as a necessary evil. Necessary in a city where survival of the fittest matters, and I think most people living in it understand this. I look at the journeys in a Mumbai local train as an environment of networking that works wonderfully well in maximum city. Complete with friends, friends of friends, social updates, status updates, pokes and multitasking.:) 


Have been there, done that, however. Rushed, pushed, been the social climber up to the window seat, sat/stood with a book in hand, (yes!) getting lost in a book in the midst of the enveloping chaos. Yes, laughed and giggled, too, much to the chagrin of co-travellers. Made friends over the books read- much like in the blogosphere. Hidden books, too, covering the clandestinely read ones with newspaper. Actually, the covers served only the purpose of hiding the title; the very fact of having the book covered screamed out the inappropriateness of the book being read.:)


And the story about Belfast- very Brysonesque indeed!

I won't say much about chapters 6, 7 and 9, except that they sent shivers up my spine, and that I can fully understand the paranoia. When I was expecting my baby, I was in my mid-30s, and everything that I had learnt about complications of late pregnancies kept playing on my mind. I drove my obstretician- who is also a dear friend- up the wall with my worries, until she had to threaten me with dire consequences if I did not shut up and stop being such a worry wart till the end of my pregnancy.

The joy of reading- that has been a project in progress since the past 11 years. 11 wonderful years, in which i have tried every variety of rhyme book, story book and every other kind of book. As Maria says in 'The Sound of Music', I must have done something right, because, gloriously, happily, thankfully, I have managed to pass on my love of reading the printed word to my daughter. I am content.

Ah- the whodunit! Love, love, love the books by Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle and Wilkie Collins. Would love to read books by Henning Mankell and Dorothy L Sayers. But the one I started off with as a young teen was Alfred Hitchcock with his Three Investigators- oh, that is nostalgia!

Cookbooks and books by food writers- I don't agree with you on the point that only men can stir our senses with their descriptions of all things culinary. I can name one kitchen goddess at least, whose books and shows are to die for- Nigella Lawson. More than can be said of her non-dessert recipes, though. We didn't like a single one we tried out in the throes of our gustatory desires. I would like to recommend one book to you here. Try Eat Cake by Jeanne Ray. I can guarantee you'll love it.

Arabia- the land of a Thousand and One Nights. I would fantasize in my Mills and Boon days about Arab sheikhs and such, but the adult me is completely disillusioned. Combine the reading of books like Not Without My Daughter, In the Land of Invisible Women, and the horrifying books by Jean Sasson with the media coverage of the Gulf War over the years, and Arabia no longer has me in its thrall.

Hide the author- yes, sometimes there is something called too much information. I have always regretted reading the biography by Barbara Stoney of my favourite childhood author- Enid Blyton. My idol had feet of clay, and I didn't like it one tiny bit. It hasn't stopped me from reading the biographies or autobiographies of favourite authors, however. I like to know what makes them tick, and what is it that drives them to pen their particular kind of books. So I tried to undo some of the damage to my psych by reading this newer biography of Enid by Duncan Mclaren, in which he discusses the whys and hows of her life as it is reflected in her books. Portraying her as a human being capable of mistakes just as much as you or I, instead of the villian of the piece!

And re-reading-? What do I say of that? Yes, I do love to go back again and again to my favourite books. Love all of them!

A wonderful read, Veena, full of a lot of nostalgia for me. I hope to meet you someday, though it is likely that like most readers who write, you'll find me quite tongue-tied at first. I express myself better in writing, of course. I hope you will see beyond that, and maybe find a kindred reader.

Also hoping to read much more from you.

warmly,
Sandhya

A delicious prize!

So I've won! And the prize is delicious. It is The Sweetest Mango.

Yes, yes, I know it is currently the mango season and all that, but this one, though closely related to those mangoes, is a bit different. I recently participated in a blogathon held by Tulika books on mangoes and my post was declared one of the winning entries. My prize :  A copy of this book.

Pic courtesy tulikabooks.com

The Sweetest Mango
Written by Malavika Shetty
Illustrated by Ajanta Guhathakurta
Published by Tulika books
Ages 5+

Do you remember that when you were a child, you probably had a very close buddy (a friend or a sibling) who you hung out with, with whom you shared every little secret, and who was your partner-in-crime for all the mischief that you got into? With whom you shared absolutely everything?

But sometimes you had something really tasty. You hoarded it, hid it from everybody, even your closest buddy and ate it bit by bit, all by yourself? Didn't want to share it with ANYONE?

I would do that. My mother would give me some guL-shengdaNe (jaggery and peanuts - a really yummy combination that I loved. You split open the peanut, and stuffed some jaggery between the halves, and then popped it into your mouth. Yum!) and I would be loath to share it with anyone. I would keep it in a box in a secret place, and eat it surreptiously throughout the day, making it really last. I was reminded of that as I read this book.

Suma is a little girl who loves mangoes in any form. There was, of course, the delicious, juicy fruit, but there were also the pickles and curries made at home that she relished.

Now, Suma has a bosom buddy, Jyothi. The two girls were neighbours in a village near Udupi, a coastal town on the mango belt near the western coast of India. The village had many mango and coconut trees, and there were some around their houses. Summer meant a surfeit of mangoes, and of course, they had to be got by climbing the trees, and eaten freshly picked from the branches.

There was a particular mango tree, the mundappa mango, that grew behind Suma's house. It grew huge, round and sweet mangoes. One day, Suma spots a really big specimen, bigger than a coconut.

'But it was still raw, and it would be a few days before it ripened to sweetness. 
Suma couldn't wait to eat it. "I won't tell Jyothi," she thought. "I'll eat it all by myself."

So what happens next? How does she get through the few days of waiting? Does she get to eat it? All by herself? What about Jyothi?

A book about the joys of friendship, and the carefree innocence of childhood. A drool-worthy book, with warm, summery illustrations by Ajantha Guhathakurtha matching the yumminess of the text.

A read the book within ten minutes of its arrival at home, and was smiling as she finished it. I suppose she, too, was thinking of the way she is often loath to share some of the goodies she gets from her grandparents' place when we visit. And how we sometimes enjoy them better when shared!

Crossposted at Saffrontree.

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A word about the mundappa mango. It is a variety that I have not heard of. I did a google-search for it, and came across this article from the Metro Plus section of the Mangalore edition. Quoting from it:
"The Mundappa has a distinctive taste and develops sweetness in its very early growing stage. Even when ripe, its colour will still be green, but a reddish tinge on the top indicates that the fruit is ready for consumption. If allowed to grow to its full size (some growers do) each Mundappa can weigh as much as 450-500 grams. Though they are a local variety, the fully-grown Mundappas arrive in the market only during mid-season."

Another article, this time a blog post from a farming blog, SundayFarmer, laments the gradual disappearance of local and wild varieties of the fruit due to a demand for the 'more marketable' varieties like the alphonso, totapuri, dasheri, etc. Quoting:
"‘Mundappa’ is another local variety that many people in Dakshina Kannada district would readily recall. Ayurveda specialist Dr K.S. Kamath, from Manchi village, says this variety originally came from the compound of a house on Dongarakery-New Chitra Theatre Road in Mangalore.
A red variant of this mango used to grow on three trees in the heart  Mangalore city until a few years ago. None of them can be found today as a posh shopping mall stands on that land. Ironically, the hypermarkets at that mall stock a range of hybrid mangoes, but the local red mundappa can no longer be had for love or money."

A mango locally grown and known in the western coastal mango belt around the Mangalore area, this, along with the many others which are just as or sometimes even more delicious than the commercially known variants, needs to be preserved and propogated for future generations.

A sad state of matters, indeed. Like the 'goti mango' that I remember from my childhood. A very small, very sweet variety that is not to be seen anywhere these days.

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Maurice Sendak and Leo Dillon : a tribute

Two notable illustrators, both Caldecott award winners, passed away this month. One is also a writer, and almost a household name for those who know their picture books. Maurice Sendak, who passed away on 8th May 2012 at the age of 83 and Leo Dillon who passed away yesterday, 30th May 2012 at the age of 79..

Do a google-search for Maurice Sendak, and the first few links thrown up (other than the recent obits) will be for his Caldecott winner book Where the Wild Things Are (1963) This book, along with In the Night Kitchen (1970) and Outside Over There (1981), formed a sort of trilogy. I say a 'sort of trilogy' because they do not comprise parts of a contiguous story. Authored and illustrated by him.

All of these can be read aloud to children as young as 3 years old, and older. The kind of classics that can be read over and over again, well into adulthood and beyond, and we can gain at every reading. They deal with the dark side of little children, the side that is real, but which we, as a society, are often in denial about. Or if we do recognise it, we can only deal it by doling out punishment. When all it takes is a little bit of validation from a parent, and treating it as the grey area that it is. After all, all human beings have some good along with some bad. Grown-ups are just that much more able to keep it in check.

Published by HarperTrophy 

 Max is your regular, mischievous little boy, with an active imagination, and a penchant for getting into trouble. Sent one day to his room without any supper. A room that magically transformed into a forest- where the wild things were! Giving Max a chance to work off his angry feelings. A chance to send these wild things off to bed without there supper. Letting him come back to the reality of the safety of his room and a hot supper; the parent too has had a chance to cool off!

Sounds familiar? The book has been made into a lovely movie, that reads between the lines of the very spare text, and gives us the back story on Max. Watched it recently on DVD, and is worth every rupee spent on it!

Published by Red Fox books
Random House

I was reminded of the chapter in 'Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban' as I read this one. The way, we are told, of handling the boggart that frightens you, is to laugh at it, to recognise the ridiculous in it - which changes it to something we can have control over.

Children are characteristically afraid of the dark, and of things that go 'bump' in the night. In this story, we see Mickey coming face-to-face with his fears - of the dark, and of being mixed into the batter for tomorrow's cake and baked - and his gaining of an upper hand. Happens a lot of time, doesn't it? Maybe a story that the child has read/ has been read to, or something that it has seen or heard, gets into the dark recesses of the subconscious, only to surface in a dream. Happens to us adults too!

Published by Red Fox books
Random House 

Which first-born child hasn't wished the next-born away? There is no doubting the bond between siblings, but there is always sibling rivalry. Ask any parent of more than one child.

Ida has been asked to keep an eye on her little sister while her mother is a little busy. Something that she does because she has to do.

"Ida played her wonder horn to rock the baby still - but never watched."

The goblins come in and snatch the baby away. So now Ida goes to the rescue. She goes all the way outside over there, where the goblins have taken her baby sister away, tricks the goblins, and gets the baby back home.

Here is a review of another notable book by him at Saffrontree.

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Our other Caldecott winner is Leo Dillon, who is one half of a team with his illustrator wife, Diane Dillon. Their illustrations are larger than life, with a lot of detail, rooted in African culture. The couple is the only recipient of the award two years in a row.

The first was awarded in 1976 for Why Mosquitoes Buzz in People's Ears,  reviewed here on Saffrontree by Tharini. (Do click on the link to read). We loved this tale from West African folklore, which goes on and on from one animal to another, in the fashion of a neverending tale, coming full circle finally to the mosquito.

Their book that won the Caldecott the following year, 1977, is
Ashanti to Zulu : African Traditions.
Written by Margaret Musgrove
Published by Puffin Pied Piper
Ages: 8+

An alphabet book with a difference - for older children who already know their alphabet. The book takes one African tribe for each alphabet, and gives us a peek into their culture, traditions, lifestyle and history. With vibrant, richly detailed illustrations.

As we read through the book, we realise how varied life is for people fairly close in geography, and yet human beings are so much the same all over the world.

Two more books illustrated by the couple have been reviewed on Saffrontree here and here. Do hop over and read.

Pics courtesy flipkart. Crossposted at Saffrontree.        

Book Review: The Joy of Fairy Tales

pic courtesy amazon.co.uk

The Joy of Fairy Tales
Compiled and edited by Gill Davies
Published by Worth Press Ltd.
Ages 8+

Imagine a book that has one mesmerised as soon as one picks it up. Makes one forget that one is not a child anymore. One that makes you want to just sit with it and read and read and read. The moment I picked this book up at the bookstore, I knew I could not let it go.

Wanting to read a bit before buying, I scanned a few pages and came upon this poem-

Moonlight Magic

In the fairy woods when the moonlight glows
The animals twirl, each up on their toes;
Fox fiddles a merry and magical tune
As the animals dance in the light of the moon.
All around they skip, like the pixies do,
Dreaming of wishes bound to come true
Bear bounces and laughs, the hares leap high,
Till stars grow dim and the dawn is nigh...
Then home they go, paws dimpling grass
Like dewdrops gleam like bubbles of glass.

-Anon.

I was enchanted. This was lovely! It felt like the other side of Maurice Sendak's "Where the Wild Things Are". So much similar, yet so much dissimilar. The light to its dark. The day to its night. Even if this was something that happened by moonlight. We had to have this book. It was a collectible.

Appealing to children and adults alike, the book is a smorgasbord of fairy tales from all over the world, with snippets of trivia in the margins - European, Indian, Chinese, Japanese, African, Australian, Russian, Aborigine...you name it.

There are tales as old as the Arabian nights, tales re-told from mythology and folklore. There are tales as new as those from J.K.Rowling's Tales of Beedle the Bard.

There are tantalising excerpts from magical books like The Wizard of Oz, Gulliver's Travels, Lewis Caroll's Alice books, E. Nesbit's The Phoenix and the Carpet, Kipling's Just So Stories, The Princess and the Goblin, even Shakespeare.

We also have the usual suspects like Hans Christian Anderson, the Grimm brothers, Charles Perrault, and Andrew Lang. As also magical poetry by the likes of Edward Lear, Robert Louis Stevenson, Alfred Lord Tennyson, Shakespeare, and that tantalising poet - Anonymous, and many more.

Think that is a long list? Just the contents of this 766 page book runs into 16 pages. We also have an extensive bibliography for those interested in more reading, short biographies of all the authors and illustrators (the illustrations alone are worth picking up the book for- each tale comes with the original illustrations it was first published with) featured.

For those interested in the evolution of the fairytale, there is a detailed timeline of fairytales and folktales through history, from all continents - right from the ancient Sumerian epic tale of Gilgamesh c. 2000 BCE to Harry Potter. As also links from that modern magic wand- the internet.

As the editor says in an afterword: "So here is a book to treasure...through its pages the reader can discover how ancient folk tales and legends developed, changed and spread - and how in their re-telling they became the familiar stories we know today." Not just another anthology.

This, as Choxbox would put it, are fairy tales at their best, before Disney meddled with them. Maybe that's just our opinion, of course, with most people knowing their fairy tales only through the Disney looking-glass. Then that's their loss, IMO.

A and I have been dipping into it at all through the vacation. Perfect for bed-time reading.

Do check out this lovely trailer of the movie Fairy Tale :A true story based on an actual incident from Cottingley that took place in 1917. Two girls happened to take photographs that were said to be of fairies. There was quite a bit of interest generated, that brought even big names like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Harry Houdini to investigate. It remained an unsolved puzzle for many years, until the girls, now in their sixties, admitted that it had been a prank that had gone out of hand  and many claim it is evidence of the existence of fairies. I don't know what to think, but the movie seems lively. Completely non-Disney! Do click to watch. Would love to get my hands on it.



Crossposted at Saffrontree.