Adding some spice to my life

When I was in India recently I decided to keep to my diet of quinoa and lentils (moong dhal). So every morning I would measure quarter cup of quinoa and half a cup of lentils, soak them in a cup of water and then place the dish in the rice cooker. When it was done to its mouth watering consistency I would have a hard time holding out till lunch time to dig in. I needed nothing with it. No spice, no salt or even yoghurt. I could eat it plain. However to give myself a balanced meal I would have it with veggies. When I returned to Canada, I could not replicate the flavour and suddenly it dawned on me. The lentils in my mother in law's had an ever so slight flavour of camphor, either because it was stored in the prayer room where camphor was burnt or because she had rubbed a little into the container to deter critters and insects. So I took an ever so slight pinch of camphor and rubbed it into the container before emptying the dhal into it. Lo and behold that mild fragrance has given a grand kick to the banal and boring quinoa and dhal. I love the smell because I am reminded of temples and badam kheer.

This gave me an idea. Why not find ways to spice up my life, I mean food, to give the mundane some sex appeal, to minimize my use of sugar and salt, both of which overpower most foods crowding out all other flavours. So now a cinnamon stick goes into my morning tea to give it a luxurious lift, reminding me of tea garden resorts of Southern India. My morning smoothie made from a banana, nuts, sesame, prunes and anything else I can throw in receives a cardamom pod for its festive flavour. I am transported to festival days when precious cardomom, bought in small quantities wrapped in newspaper packets, was peeled, pounded and added at the very end to all homemade sweets that marked these ocassions. I add saffron to my milk complementing it further with a dash of honey and relive its association with my pregnancy when my mother took such loving care of me and insisted on this drink every day saying it was good for the baby. Ginger in my buttermilk reminds me of Ramanavami, probably the hottest summer day in Southern India when we all drank this to stay cool. A couple of cloves and some nutmeg go into my winter vegetable soups, bay leaves into my rice and dill in my dhal. I dont stop with spices for oomph, liberally adding almonds and walnuts to tossed salads, toasted sesame seeds and peanuts to stir-frys and noodles. A few pine nuts go into my spaghetti with fresh basil, garlic and oregano vitiating the need for any cheese. So don't wait for an ocassion to use your spices and mixed nuts, experiment with them to bring flavour to your life, even as you cut out salt and sugar. And try cooking the quinoa and dhal with that hint of camphor, it will do your soul and body good. Oh ya and share your ideas...

Adding some spice to my life

When I was in India recently I decided to keep to my diet of quinoa and lentils (payatham parruppu). So every morning I would measure quarter cup of quinoa and half a cup of lentils, soak them in a cup of water and then place the dish in the rice cooker. When it was done to its mouth watering consistency I would have a hard time holding out till lunch time to dig in. I needed nothing with it. No spice, no salt or even yoghurt. I could eat it plain. However to give myself a balanced meal I would have it with veggies. When I returned to Canada, I could not replicate the flavour and suddenly it dawned on me. The lentils in my mother in law's had an ever so slight flavour of camphor, either because it was stored in the prayer room where camphor was burnt or because she had rubbed a little into the container to deter critters and insects. So I took an ever so slight pinch of camphor and rubbed it into the container before emptying the dhal into it. Lo and behold that mild fragrance has given a grand kick to the banal and boring quinoa and dhal. I love the smell because I am reminded of temples and badam kheer.

This gave me an idea. Why not find ways to spice up my life, I mean food, to give the mundane some sex appeal, to minimize my use of sugar and salt, both of which overpower most foods crowding out all other flavours. So now a cinnamon stick goes into my morning tea to give it a luxurious lift, reminding me of tea garden resorts of Southern India. My morning smoothie made from a banana, nuts, sesame, prunes and anything else I can throw in receives a cardamom pod for its festive flavour. I am transported to festival days when precious cardomom, bought in small quantities wrapped in newspaper packets, was peeled, pounded and added at the very end to all homemade sweets that marked these ocassions. I add saffron to my milk complementing it further with a dash of honey and relive its association with my pregnancy when my mother took such loving care of me and insisted on this drink every day saying it was good for the baby. Ginger in my buttermilk reminds me of Ramanavami, probably the hottest summer day in Southern India when we all drank this to stay cool. A couple of cloves and some nutmeg go into my winter vegetable soups, bay leaves into my rice and dill in my dhal. I dont stop with spices for oomph, liberally adding almonds and walnuts to tossed salads, toasted sesame seeds and peanuts to stir-frys and noodles. A few pine nuts go into my spaghetti with fresh basil, garlic and oregano vitiating the need for any cheese. So don't wait for an ocassion to use your spices and mixed nuts, experiment with them to bring flavour to your life, even as you cut out salt and sugar. And try cooking the quinoa and dhal with that hint of camphor, it will do your soul and body good. Oh ya and share your ideas...

Making myself vulnerable

Late last week I had a very good session with my coach. Her opening sentence set the tone for our meeting. She told me about a recent incident in her life that was extremely personal citing it as a low point in her career. She appeared visibly shaken and perturbed - uncharacteristically so. I was curious but also wanted to help her "clear" herself and asked if she wanted to share and she did. I did not realise then how this would set me on a path of making myself more vulnerable. I just knew I felt more comfortable talking to her about a difficult problem I have on my hands.

In March I am scheduled to attend a meeting with a room full of people who do not like the direction in which my organization is headed as a social enterprise. They view me as a competitor who is not playing nice, given the contracts we are bidding on in their regions, albeit, through an open bid process. They would have me do nothing or conduct business in what they perceive as being more collaborative. I believe I have acted with integrity and have been open and transparent, although I may not have been proactive enough in reaching out to them. A recent incident confirmed their distrust and all I knew to do was to take a defensive stance. I realized then this would further entrench them in their position and me in mine and only worsen the status quo. I had to approach this meeting differently. I have to find common ground by communicating creatively or make peace with the direction we were taking and not act and feel defensive. But how?

My coach started out by exploring what I wanted to change. "Well", I said, "I want to build greater trust". "What values of yours do you want them to experience?", she asked. "Well, my honesty, passion and commitment to the greater good that these differences should transcend", I replied. She then asked that I connect with those values with my heart while we role played, with her taking on the role of one of agencies that was going to give me the cold shoulder at minimum or be downright confrontational. It was the most difficult half hour I have spent in a long time, since I could not connect with my values sufficiently to stop taking a defensive stance, which she was quick to point out. After much struggle, I intellectually ( and not experientially) hit upon the approach that was going to work. Connect with the heart without the need to prove anything. State factually without offering an opinion as to what happened and then ask questions remaining curious and in the present without wanted to "solve" anything. Just this approach would change the tone of the conversation and bring about changes that were not planned or intended. In a sense I would make myself completely vulnerable. So, as homework, I decided to try this in my everyday interactions.

My first experience was an utter failure. Here's what happened. We drove down to Pittsburgh this weekend. After visiting the temple there, we decided to have dinner at a local grill known for its Pizza. A belated valentine's day celebration of sorts. I entered the restaurant with expectation of a nice evening. We were greeted by a very unfriendly hostess who then handed us over to an equally bland faced waitress. When I changed my drink order she was visibly annoyed and for the rest of the evening she did not make eye contact with me. I was put off. I noticed then that we were the only Indians in a room full of white folks and so I was quick to jump to conclusions and mumbled to my husband "such racism". If I had practiced what I have set out to, I could have talked to the waitress, shared my experience of not feeling welcome and asked her if there was something I had done to offend and even apologized for changing my order and causing her inconvenience. Instead, I remained outraged leaving without a glance in her direction or a thank you. Making oneself vulnerable is easier said than done - even in a situation where I had more power than the person I was interacting with.

Interestingly, Bloomberg has an article in a recent issue on a young tech entrepreneur wannabe who has embarked on a social experiment to face a hundred rejections in a variety of social settings to gain a thicker hide when approaching VCs for funding. An example is one situation where he approaches a professor at his alma mater, the University of Texas, Austin, and asks if he could teach his class, only to be promptly turned down. As a collateral gain to posting his rejections on YouTube he has become a sensation with quarter million hits and growing, and a Bloomberg article. Hats off to this young man! I dont have his courage. However, I am prepared to begin with baby steps. Just to be present in every situation, authentic and truthful. Today I did better when I noticed a trigger, when interacting with my husband. I checked my impulse to act defensively and just remained curious and present. The ensuing conversation was open, interesting and fun filled. Let's see what tomorrow brings when I ask a few people I know if they would be willing to share their experience of me. In other words, what impression they have formed of me. You can share yours too! Hopefully, by the time this meeting rolls around and for evermore after that I will continue this practise to enrich my life and those of others around me so we can freely interact with each other without our egos getting in the way!

Early morning at Kapali temple

When I am in Chennai and have company to walk with me I wake up before the crack of dawn and make the pilgrimage to the Kapaleeshwarar temple. The walk through those crowded Mylapore streets is not easy even at that early hour. There are people milling about, waking up in their beds on the footpath, or setting up their vegetable or flower stalls. The roads are busy with cars and two-wheelers hurtling to beat the rush hour traffic. Its hard to find one’s footing while avoiding stepping on garbage or being run over. Nestled in this bustling corner of the city is the ancient Kapaleeshwarar temple which is said to have been built by the Pallavas in the 7th Century A.D. Kapalam means head and the temple gets its name from the legend that Brahma showed disrespect to Shiva on Mount Kailash and Shiva retaliated by plucking one of Brahma's heads (God of creation with 4 heads). However, to appease Shiva, Brahma installed a Lingam (symbol representing Lord Shiva) at this site for the “Lord of the head”, "Kapaleeshwarar". His consort Karpagambal is said to be performing a penance to restore her original feminine glory having come here as a peacock under a curse, giving this location its name as the abode of the peacock “Mylapore”. Here devotees also worship the 63 Shaivaite saints, the Nayanars, and the four Vedas. The famous Theppakulam or water tank, adjoining the temple, stands as a Chennai landmark, having purified devotees for centuries. Nowadays no one bathes in that tank but it still represents a marvel of urban planning having spawned a rich and diverse cultural community around it. Due to its location in the heartland of India's arts and cultural capital, Chennai,it has inspired scores of musicians to compose songs in its praise in the South Indian classical Carnatic music tradition.

However, it is not the legend of the place or its cultural history that fascinates me. It is just the awesomeness of walking through massive gates reaching 20 feet into the sky, that have stood for over a thousand years welcoming the millions of devotees who have passed through with a prayer on their lips, hope and joy or a plea for support and sustenance in their hearts. Within the temple's quadrants time stands still. When I walk on the ancient stones laid there by human hands I think of all the life energy that has flattened these stones underfoot. As I enter the dark inner sanctum to behold the dieties lit only with oil lamps, the musty smell assails me and evokes an experience so primeval as if I have reached into a timeless corridor abandoning my individual identity. My ego submerged, I experience a sense of oneness with the throng of devotees who strain towards the priest to place their hand over the flame that was held before the dieties, just a few seconds prior, and eagerly receive the sacred ash or vermillion that I then smear on my forehead. If I am lucky and have a hair pin I clip the flowers that I gratefully receive from the priest, to my hair. The oil lamps have stained the dark stone walls with grease and the smell of the ancient comingled with the fragrance of the incense, camphor, flowers and coconut water evoke in me feelings of intense nostalgia, so like the call of the womb. There is a sense of deja vous, of having been at this place several times before, over several births.

Shaivaite temples unlike their Vaishnavite counterparts have an austerity about them that glorifies renunciation and withdrawal of senses from worldly pleasures. As I step into the Kapali temple, and for the few moments that I spend lingering in that ancient monument I forget the commerce and activity that goes on just a few feet from that entrance and feel a quiet serenity from a merging of the past, present and future in one composite moment of stillness. I experience a suspension of time and space with no great compulsion to go anywhere, be anyone or do anything. I am content to just walk consciously placing one foot in front of the next and soaking in the energy of a live monument where the worship is sincere and the space is accessible to all - to walk about, sit in quiet contemplation, chant, sing, even rest or partake of the free food devotees distribute. In India where space has such premium, ancient monuments like the Kapali temple provide dynamic spaces that keep the community spirit alive. I go to the temple to lose myself and become one with that spirit.

The ritual of the morning meal

As I lie in bed with a fever, remembering home ....,

My in laws are advanced in age and live in Chennai.  But even today, the morning meal is a holy ritual, with both of them in active participation.   Even simple fare involves elaborate preparation time.  We put out all the cooking vessels the previous night.  In the morning we inspect the fridge and pick vegetables based on the dishes that are paired.  There is nothing haphazard about the menu which is steeped in hundreds of years  of tradition.  Besides, certain vegetables are eaten or avoided on certain days.  For eg, raw plantains are cooked on new moon day when ancestors are remembered and special prayers offered to them.  Also after oil bath, a ritual carried out on Fridays, dishes that aid digestion are consumed.  Also on the days following full or half day fasts special greens are eaten which are light on the stomach and have medicinal and healing qualities.  

This morning meal which is prepared only after we have bathed and changed into freshly washed clothes, and listening to Carnatic music on All India Radio, usually consists of rice, a light and thin lentil soup (rasam) cooked with tomatoes in a tamarind base and spiced with curry powder, cumin, pepper, coriander and curry leaves.  Accompanying the rasam, there is usually one sautéed vegetable flavored with mustard seeds and coconut.  And another salad or cooked vegetable  in a sauce with a coconut base.  A stew variously made of vegetables and lentils, in a tamarind or yoghurt base is the entree.  To prepare the meal - we first chop up all the vegetables.  We then soak the tamarind and dhal in water and measure and set aside at least 8 different spices.  We then boil the water and measure and pour it  into the prewashed rice and presoaked dhal which are placed in the rice and pressure cookers, respectively.  The rice blooms nicely with this treatment, is not sticky, is cooked to perfection and stays piping hot in the rice cooker  As the lentils cook in the pressure cooker, alongside in the next burner the tamarind water boils for the rasam until its flavours are just right for the cooked lentils to be added.  The stew that makes up the entree comes next and the vegetables for it are precooked first in the microwave.  At the end, all dishes are seasoned for which varying combinations of mustard seeds, cumin, asafotida, dried chillies and fenugreek are sputtered in oil or ghee and added with a flourish for that slightly smoked/flambé flavour.  The rice/lentil crisps (papads) are fried in oil or microwaved.  

Before the table can be laid - serving dishes are set aside for each and an offering is made to the Gods with a sampling of the cooked meal.  But first, the gods are elaborately decorated with fresh flowers, incense is burnt and the oil lamp is lit.  Customary prayers are chanted as a flame is lit on a plate with some camphor and shown as a final purification ritual.   The food offering concludes the prayer.  We all then prostrate before the altar giving thanks for this daily bounty and in eager anticipation of the hot, fresh, flavorful meal.  It is now 11 a.m. and  over the past three hours, the aroma from the food which we have prepared without tasting, further augmented by the incense and camphor, has stirred our digestive juices.   But wait, we dare not put a morsel in our mouths  until the crows have been fed.  

We go into the backyard with a plateful of rice, lentils and ghee and call out with varying tones of caws.  We lay the table putting out, besides the meal, three different types of pickle, chips, buttermilk, ghee, other preserves and condiments.  We take our time enjoying the piping hot meal eating each of the entree, rasam and buttermilk, with rice.  We start by pouring some ghee on hot rice and the flavour from that sets the tone for the meal.  

On hot summer days, the meal is usually followd by a blissful siesta which further enhances feelings of well-being engendered by the meal.  

Kahiin duur jab din Dhal jaaye/ Somewhere far away when the day dulls

I am always up for some adventure.  The operative word is "some".  Even when my flight from Chennai to Frankfurt was diverted to Nurnberg after it had waited an hour in a holding pattern, for runway space, I wasn't nonplussed.  I would miss my connecting flight but a worse fate could have befallen me?   I was being willfully optimistic and a tad premature.  When we finally took off from Nurnberg I began to feel restless.  4 hours in an idling plane on a runway would do that.  We landed in Frankfurt at half past one, 5 hours late.  

My flight which should logically also have been delayed was nowhere in sight and for that matter out of the hundreds of flights shown to be departing over a 4 hour window there were none showing as Toronto bound.  That's when it dawned on my dull head that the situation was a lot graver than I had hoped.  This came as a crushing realization when I joined a mile long queue with other weary and irate travellers bound for a few hundred destinations.  The nightmare which began to unfold had no end in sight.  When panic sets in, the mind goes irrational.  I had an immediate vision of me trapped in this airport with no way out, reminiscent of a recent Hollywood movie based on said theme.  There were no less than ten thousand people ahead of me in the line that snaked through the terminal and the weather had to hold up for flights to make it out with all of us.  So, not so irrational!  Now the question was if I should stand in this endless queue or abandon it at the risk of having to rejoin it at a later time, causing further delay?  

My situation appeared hopeless and I had a temporary glimpse of a life trapped in despair!  In that  moment I remembered the desperately poor woman with a mentally ill daughter whom no institution would take, back in Chennai, and whom I had been unsuccessful in assisting. That thought and a few calming breaths later, my perspective changed.   I took in the experience as an adventure unfolding and was now excited to find out how it would end.  I abandoned the line.  It turned out to be a blessed decision because I found several people willing to help.  I ended up in a much shorter line meant for long haul passengers.   I was able to partake of refreshments that my  parched throat and  starving belly craved, from the islands of food and drink set up by the airline!  The wait was still long but i enjoyed it people-watching, writing and meditating.  I got rewarded with taxi vouchers to and from Lufthansa's Seeheim Conference Centre in a beautiful wooded park, where I had a nice room for the night, great dinner and a sumptuous breakfast which I shared with an Indian, with whom I also waxed prolific about the wonder and exasperation that is India today!  My taxi drivers both ways were Afghanis with a love of Indian music.  As we were racing down the autobahn in the cold, to catch my flight the next morning, the driver switched suddenly from a German news channel and the melodic voice of Mukesh filled the car and warmed my heart with this song..

Kahiin duur jab din Dhal jaaye
Somewhere far away when the day dulls

Saanj ki dulhan badan churaaye
The dusk sneaks up shyly like a bride

Mere khaayalon ke aangan mein
In the courtyard of my imagination 

Koi sapnon ke deep jalaaye
Someone lights up a lamp of my dreams ...

A perfect end to a perfect adventure.  It was a lesson in living with perspective!  

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=PytEd_wXueU

Caring for our parents

With the aging population and kids living overseas there is a huge need in India, as elsewhere, for home care ranging from help with everyday chores to advanced life care for patients who are palliative.  This trip has been all about confronting that need head on.  Care is not cheap and is not systematic.  You have to cobble together a host of services and then hope and pray that people are honest and do not abuse or neglect the persons in their care.  Since these  caregivers are not licensed there is nothing but their own individual moral code to hold them accountable.

When I landed here one of my close relatives had just come home from yet another trip to the hospital for near chronic kidney failure.  The hospital visit burnt a huge hole in the family's pocket and did not make him any better, the treatment having been sub par.  We decided to manage him at home with medication, not realizing what we would need to do to ensure he could be managed there without incident.  Two days later a crisis set the wheels in motion for palliative care at home.  He had trouble breathing and being all alone at home put out SOS calls to everyone he knew, since there is no access here to a centralized ambulance services or paramedics.  With us having to arrange the transportation to get him to the hospital we did not arrive till half an hour later!  Fortuitously, it was a false alarm.  We replaced his inhaler and averted the trip to the hospital.  However it gave us the impetus to work towards a home care solution.  This involved engaging one of few palliative care doctors in the City, who makes house calls and allowing him to define the regimen for care at home.  The oxygen machine rental,  purchase of a nebuliser and training for the 24/7 patient attender, who was immediately hired, followed.  The attender has been trained to administer medicines and food in a timely fashion, ensure the patient is well oxygenated and his input and output of fluids are monitored.  Such an advanced life care solution for management of a chronic condition, where the patient's comfort is given paramount importance, comes at a hefty price tag that most can ill afford, if they live and work here in India.  Also the solution is far from perfect.  Today when I made a surprise visit, I found the attender had gone out, leaving the front door open and the patient was in his bed breathing rapidly, having taken off his oxygen mask.   We can never be guaranteed the patient's cooperation or predict how the disease will progress as a consequence, and so cannot prepare for all eventualities.  In many ways it is a waiting game and a tough one at that given we have taken all control over care.  In a hospital setting the responsibility is not ours and so we have an entity to turn to or blame.

Just as difficult, is caring for aging parents who have no major health problems but have mobility issues.  Getting any task done in India, even groceries, is no mean task.  Now with gas rations and purchase of water, the necessaries of life are not guaranteed and require considerable effort to ensure supply at all times.  Also use of all electrical devices has to be worked around the state's power outage schedules.  Seniors are definitely kept mentally agile as a result.  Now a solution to this is full-time help.  The right kind of help has to be provided board and lodging which would add to the householder's workload.  If help is brought in to cook and perform chores around the house then additional help is needed for outside chores.  But get this - seniors, especially women, are extremely reluctant to relinquish control over their kitchens if they have been cooking all their lives.  My mother insists additional help would be a burden and she does not see why things should change.  All in all a huge learning for me and an insight into my own old age and what i should be preparing for.  Here's hoping when the 60s babies become seniors there will be infrastructure in place.  However, let's all stay healthy and ward off dependence for as long as we can.  In addition, let us prepare for all associated expenses when we do become dependent!