Culture
Azhagana Thenmadurai…
The Meenakshi Temple, fragrant strands of jasmine, the three Tamil Sangams…these are what you generally associate with the city of Madurai. And of course, the beautiful and lyrical way in which people there speak the Tamil language we, here in Chennai, are so accustomed to massacring.
But, actually arriving in Madurai in August 2009 is a different matter altogether. The city is still relatively small, and retains much of the old world charm. But, one can’t help but notice that ugly hoardings, plastic waste and unmanageable traffic are an integral part of the city. And to me, it signifies a loss of innocence. A loss of all that was good with small-town Tamil Nadu. It’s been a good seven years since I last visited Madurai. A lot of water has flown under the bridge. Or should I say, a lot of silt has accumulated. For, there is no water in the Vaigai any more. Apparently they only open the dam in April for the Kallazhagar temple festival. Otherwise, it’s just a vast expanse of sand and silt. That’s sad, considering that one of the indications that you had arrived in Madurai was crossing that bridge over the Vaigai, with the river gushing furiously below you.
But, all said and done, it feels good. It feels good to enter a city you know is almost 2000 years old. A city that hosted not one, but three Tamil Sangams. The city that nurtured and developed Muthamizh (edit: the three Tamils, referring to Iyal, Isai, Natakam, as pointed out by Santhakumar in the comment). Because, unlike Chennai, Madurai has a history distinct from the white sahibs. Talking to people there, you realise that although things have changed, they haven’t changed so drastically that you don’t realise the difference. The people are still rather more helpful and less abusive than in Chennai.
The Thirumalai Nayakar Palace still holds the same charm it did all those years ago. It’s still as beautiful, and much cleaner. It is heartening to see that the ASI is finally taking an interest in restoring that beautiful structure. And of course, in keeping the place clean. You cannot see a single plastic bag, or bubble gum, or broken bottles any more. The management makes sure of that.
Life in the city still revolves around the famed corridors of the Meenakshi temple. Yes, the temple is rather commercial now, with the management charging 100 rupees for a special darshan. But, you can still enjoy the stroll in the hallowed corridors, appreciate the nuances of the Silver Hall (analogous to the Golden Hall in Chidambaram), and walk around the famed “Pond of the Golden Lotus”. The only problem is that there was no water in the pond. It had been pumped out a few days earlier for cleaning. The Golden Lotus (Potramarai) is clearly visible. It would have looked much more beautiful had the pond been filled.
I spent a long and exciting weekend in the area. What used to seem like a lifetime of drudgery when I was ten suddenly seems much more exciting now. I want to go back. Go back and see more temples, more palaces, more hills, and more of life. I know I will. The only question is…when?
Time stands still…
…as you enter the three centuries-old Dutch fort at Sadras. I won’t describe the fort for you. Sriram has done it well enough. The fort, built in the 17th Century speaks volumes of a past long dead, an era gone by. I enter the fort and wish I were born in those times. I wish I could live there, experience the life of the times, fight all those wars, save the fort from ruin. I know that’s a crazy thought, but hey! One can dream, right?
I take a look at the ancient cemetery inside the fort. Thankfully, today it is open. As we step in, I feel an easy calm. I forget that I am Amrutha, that I am living in 2009, or even that I am with two others. I forget to speak. The ASI employee who takes us around is generous with his time, and gives us plenty of information. But, I am in a completely different world. I take in what he tells us, complete with the dates and events, but somehow, don’t feel like listening at all. He tells us to approach the main office of the ASI in the Secretariat in Chennai for more information. I am still not impressed. I can only wonder what happened here all those years ago. I can only try to relive those moments.
I take a walk around the fort, following the ASI employee and Sriram. Both seem completely self-assured, almost as if they know this place inside out. They probably do. This is my first time here. I get to the place that was once a kitchen. I see a flight of stairs going up and decide to climb. Sriram is right behind me. We take in the view of the sea from there. At this point, I turn, and see red. Right in front of me, on the dome of the centuries-old warehouse, is graffiti. Some random guy called Suresh has declared his love for someone else in ugly scratches all over the dome. What the heck? Can’t we even respect our heritage? I’ll never understand.
Recovering from the blow, we continue walking around for nearly half an hour, shooting pictures at every conceivable angle, forty-four in all. When we finally finished with the fort, all I felt was marvel at what an old, broken building can do to you. It is, after all, not just a building. It’s a piece of history, beautiful in every way.
Wake up! Smell the (filter) coffee!
Picture this…you wake up in the morning, feeling lazy from all-night conversations with the world’s best friends you can have, and wish you could sleep just 5 minutes more. At this point, the aroma of freshly-filtered coffee, hits you…yumm… Can life be any better? Make no mistake; this is one area in which I am unabashedly a South Indian Brahmin. Freshly brewed filter coffee early in the morning (ok…even if it’s at 9) is something I’d kill for.
Food is something that I absolutely love. While I wouldn’t call myself a foodie (it seems to be becoming a bad word), I definitely enjoy food, of any and every kind. As long as it’s edible and doesn’t contain remains of any dead animals or sea creatures, I’ll eat it. Friends fail to see what is so special about freshly brewed filter kaapi.
Yesterday, a colleague said he didn’t see why I was so insistent on filter coffee. “Actually, decaf Nescafe is almost as good.” I nearly screamed in agony at the comparison between something so obviously tasteless as decaffeinated coffee and the wonderful Kumbakonam degree coffee. I mean, how can anyone be so insensitive? And what’s the point in drinking coffeeless coffee? That’s obviously what decaffeinated coffee is all about. Coffee without coffee.
Oh yes. I am puritan when it comes to food. Freshly-brewed (preferably freshly-ground) Kumbakonam filter coffee, dosas made from homemade batter, Thengai Sevai (what people so creatively call rice noodles) made painstakingly using the large bronze sevai naazhi at home. I’d die to have any of this. And yes! How could I forget? Rasam made in an Eeya Sombu (tin vessel) over embers of coal that takes ages to heat (but the taste is fabulous, so who cares?). Sundakkai sambar made in a Kalchetti (stone vessel), eaten with hot rice and potato poriyal made in a mud pot! Ok. I stop here. I am hungry!
Of art and vulgarity
I was following a rather interesting discussion yesterday on television. It concerned two groups of people, one contending that the traditional arts were vulgar and the other contending that vulgarity, or the lack of it depended on one’s perspective.
The one thing I noticed about people who protested vehemently against vulgarity in art, was that there is too much of skin show, too much eroticism and too much sensuality in the traditional art forms. Fair enough, I would say. Except that one of the special guests on the programme was an office-bearer of the BJP. She started by saying that music and dance in temple festivals were ok, as long as the organizers invited classical musicians and Bharatanatyam dancers to it. She went on to state that only these art forms were the truly representative of Indian culture. According to her, the folk arts and other traditional forms were lesser art forms, and did not reflect true Indian culture.
This statement is not only infuriating, but also blatantly and completely false. These self-appointed custodians of Indian culture have no real idea of what Indian culture implies. Some facts need to be clarified at this point.
Myth: The classical arts are the purest form of Indian performing arts.
Reality: The classical arts are heavily influenced by other cultures, and are by no means the purest form of art expression. In fact, both Carnatic Music and Bharatanatyam evolved and crystallized in the late 18th Century, with the musical trinity, Muthuswamy Dikshithar, Shyama Shastri and Thyagaraja. Hindustani classical music draws heavily from Mughal influences, from the 12th Century onwards. (Source)Myth: Indian culture condemns sex and sensuality. It must stay within the confines of the bedroom, and has no place in art.
Reality: Check out the statues at Khajuraho. Or even in the Kapaleeswarar Temple in Mylapore, Chennai. Many of them portray sexual positions. They celebrate sex as sacred and essential. Much of our reluctance to accept the portrayal of sexuality in public stems from Victorian, and essentially non-Indian influences. In fact the Shiva Linga in itself is a symbol of fertility, along with the feminine Yoni. A refusal to recognize it is simply a refusal to see our religion for what it really is.Myth: Theru-koothu, karagam, mayilaattam etc. are lower art forms.
Reality: Nothing could be farther from the truth. These folk art forms are the most basic dance forms and are no less than the classical arts. In fact, they form the basis of our performing arts.Myth: Bharatanatyam is the highest dance form.
Reality: Bharatanatyam was condemned and shunned by the Hindu mainstream until the time of Rukmini Devi Arundale, founder of Kalakshetra. Until her time, the dance form was confined to the Devadasis (courtesans) and no upper caste, Brahmin woman was allowed to dance. Same goes for Carnatic Music. M S Subbalakshmi and D K Pattammal were among the first to venture out of their homes and perform in public.On the whole, Indian culture is a much-misunderstood thing. Nobody knows what it really stands for, but everyone does their bit to try and preserve the little bit they consider representative of culture. Why can’t we understand the simple truth that Indian culture was way more progressive and tolerant than most other cultures? Why can’t we learn to respect art for what it is? I wonder if we will ever get answers to these questions.
Edit: On a related note, read this article by Sriram. He has a different perspective on the issue.
Eve-teasing? Oh, you asked for it!
Yes, a woman who is eve-teased is asking for it. At least, that’s what some women’s colleges in Kanpur seem to think. Before we even start dissecting and criticising this logic, let’s get one thing straight. The term eve-teasing trivialises an extremely serious issue; that of street sexual harassment. Most companies have a strict anti-sexual harassment policy. But, on the street, there seems to be no protection whatsoever. Even assuming that this can be classified as teasing, isn’t it the culprit’s responsibility to behave better?
The colleges in question have banned their students from wearing tight clothes. To quote the Indian Express new item,
“Four leading women’s colleges of Kanpur have banned students from wearing jeans, tight tops besides other tight-fit clothes, sleeveless blouses and high heels on the campus.”
Pray, why? Because wearing jeans and sleeveless tempts men into looking and lusting. As if they don’t lust after women who are modestly dressed. Every woman has faced sexual harassment in some form at some point in her life. What we wear, or how we behave has nothing to do with it. A sixty-year old man once flashed me on the street. I was then 13 years old and was wearing my school uniform. Even then, it’s my responsibility to not provoke sexual harassment? WTF? Yesterday was a case in point. I was out with two male friends at a place I consider a second home. We were talking animatedly about work, and life in general. After about 15 minutes of conversation, I noticed a guy sitting a short distance away, directing his phone’s camera lens at me. I moved away, trying to stay out of the line of sight of the camera. I don’t think it worked. I was getting increasingly uncomfortable and the two guys I was with were oblivious to the reason behind it. Thankfully, the guy saw me looking and moved away. But, this incident made me extremely insecure.
Here I was, in a place I was extrmely comfortable with, with guys I knew very well, and yet I was insecure. I was wearing a salwar kameez. Nothing remotely revealing. Nothing “western or decadent”. Yet, he was trying to capture me on his camera. So, it’s my fault that I was even there? Or was it because I was talking to two men and apparently comfortable with it? Or maybe because I was well-dressed? Or was it because I came across as friendly and hence the guy assumed he could cross the line? Whatever it is, the problem was with him, not with me. Blaming the victim doesn’t help the cause. As IHM points out, boys don’t even realise that they are wrong, seeing as they are never pulled up for their behaviour. They grow up thinking that if they lust after a woman and ogle, it’s the woman’s fault. It’s never their responsibility to behave. It’s the woman’s to ensure they behave by covering up to the maximum. When will this change? Will be ever get principals who pull up the culprits and report them, instead of ordering the girls to come covered up? Will we ever get a police force that takes complaints of sexual harassment seriously and stop questioning the girl and slandering her? Will we ever get a public that’s more sesitive to the issue and recognises its seriousness? I am slowly losing hope. Someone tell me.