Happy memories, old friends and a super holiday

Earlier this month we took a road-trip up to Ooty, in the Nilgiris mountains.

It was not just to be a holiday but to fulfil my husband’s long-felt wish to attend his school’s annual Founders Day after decades (The Lawrence School, Lovedale, or LSL).  We planned the trip with old friends who go up to Ooty quite regularly, who this time had rooms to spare in their friend’s holiday home. We lost no time in grabbing the opportunity, and a few days later set out by car, just the two of us.

The road was surprisingly good all the way from Chennai to Mettupalayam (via Ulundurpet), and the drive upto Ooty quite scenic (via Kotagiri).

The Guest house (Bela Nilayam) where we stayed was away from the hustle and bustle of Ooty town, which seemed much more crowded than on our last visit in ‘94. This lovely place was down towards Masinagudi on the 1^st hairpin bend (of 36)! With lots of space, an award-winning garden and a lovely view.

Of course the fact that this time we were in Ooty during the 1^st week of May, when it’s also the best time of year also had something to do with the population density.  Not only do you have parents of  LSL students and Old Lawrencians (OLs) all up for Founders, Ooty bursts at the seams with tourists as well.

Obviously the town’d changed tremendously in 19 years.  The greenery was clearly less than remembered, and instead numerous small dwellings now reached to near the golf course.  Not to say there aren’t large properties left, the Ooty Saits (“Egg-House” Saits, by virtue of the shape of their guard-booth) stubbornly hold out in their large compound cheek-by-jowl with new multi-storey hotel monstrosities, car dealerships and what-have-yous, when in the old days they were quite out of town.

Ooty old-timers can’t get over the new situation of extreme water-shortage, bound to affect the hill-station’s reputation for healthy vegetables, fruit and flowers, or (despite the impressively efficient traffic police), the daily traffic jams.  Not to mention the air and noise pollutions.

The first 2 days we relaxed and drove around Ooty, seeing some areas for the first time (like near Good Shepherd School, Sterling Resorts, emerging near Fern Hill Palace, etc.).

Evenings were well-spent in lively repartee in the guest-house’s large drawing room. Joined by more Old Lawrencians, the conversations always seemed to converge to talk of school. Being the only non-OL I promised to bear this no matter how silly it got sometimes.

Then the school celebrations began.  Till recently the LSL Founders was a 3-day affair, this seems the first time the program was crammed into 2.  If you don’t count the previous eve’s 155^th Founder’s Memorial church Service, with prayer and benediction for the Founder and forthcoming celebrations.

For IS the 1^st day’s events of interest began with the OL lunch (which I joined as well), followed by the OLA General Body meeting, and then the School Play (Night of January 16^th by Ayn Rand, very well done).  He decided to forego the Exhibitions (student projects), the Book Reading session (which we regretted missing, the authors this year were Ms. Aruna Gill and Ms. Saaz Aggarwal, both OLs), the Past vs. Present matches and PT Display.

The 2^nd day we both attended the “Trooping the Colour” parade in the morning, and “Beating Retreat” that evening, missing the intervening events like the Equestrian Display and Variety Entertainment.  As well as that night’s OLA Dinner Dance at the Fern Hill Palace hotel.

As for IS’s visit to school, certainly it a great thrill and very nostalgic for him to go back after so many years, more so for a Founders when friends from his batch (or a year or two up/down) were there, specially if from his houses Kailash or Aravalli.

Left to right : Sait, Elizabeth, Johny, Suri, Jojo, Murugu (batch of 1970)

Perhaps a quarter of the boarders are children of former pupils, and as with most boarding schools, the LSL Alumni have very strong loyalty to their school.  In fact, after some years of seeing the school decline, a few OLs are now directly involved with its management as Board of Governors office-bearers.

We took a round of “cem”, the old cemetery associated with juicy horror stories (and some scary ragging).  Though the junior school has been completely rebuilt, IS well remembers the old dormitories and being put in by his parents in ‘66, the initial hours moping around before the train-batches and other students arrived, the “interview” by ‘Woody ‘Vyas (Senior Master); it must be one of the saddest ever feelings, being wrenched away from one’s family at a young age.  Specially for an only child.

Founded by Major General Sir Henry Lawrence to provide education to children of serving/deceased soldiers/officers of the then British Army in India, initially there were totally four “Lawrence Military Asylums”, at Sanawar (established 1847), Mount Abu (1856), Lovedale, Ootacamund (1858) and Ghora Gali (1860, near Murree).  The younger two were established after Sir Henry died early in the 1857 Indian Mutiny.  The schools underwent several name changes, being known variously as The Lawrence Memorial Royal Military School (L), Lawrence Royal Military School (S), Lawrence Memorial School (L), Abu Lawrence School (MA), Lawrence College (GG).  The Mount Abu school no longer exists (the campus now houses the Internal Security Academy), while Ghora Ghali is in present-day Pakistan.

As a result the sense of history, and tradition of military training at Lovedale (as well as its sister schools) has always been strong, and these schools are possibly the only educational institutions in India to continue “Trooping the Colour” and “Beating Retreat” as part of their Founders' Celebration.

Other strong associations include the school song and hymns, the nicknames (Mrs. Bhalla was Ma Balls!) and of course the special Lovedale slang.  Fall in after chhota for a skinning-up if you can’t figure out what this means: stop fudging piza, croak for your junk!

For me it was a great experience to see these school-mates of all ages bonding (regardless of whether they were in school during the same years or not) through their close ties to their school, something I had not encountered before with alumni of other schools, including my own.  This was the big bonus from our wonderful holiday, the nostalgia of all the OL fraternity that stays with you like the fresh green of the tea slopes and the heady scent of eucalyptus.

Refreshing !

I am definitely a salad person! Salads accompany most of my meals (not at breakfast ... that would be nice too but in the mornings I prefer fruit).

The summer heat continues to strengthen, with energy levels and appetite naturally reducing as a result; and of course dealing with dehydration is always a challenge, especially for a person like me who completely forgets to drink water, leave alone trying to keep count of the recommended 8 glasses a day!

A nice salad with a lot of texture can be the answer to this.

Although I am perfectly content with simply slicing tomatoes, cucumbers, onions as an accoutrement to a meal, nowadays salads can be a complete meal in their own right - nutritionally packed, light and refreshing. 

Flipping through pages of glossy food magazines / watching food shows on TV (both of which feature among my relaxing pastimes) I got inspired and experimental.

Here are some salads I attempted.  

Beetroot with a yogurt dressing and light tempering of mustard and curry leaves

Lettuce greens, celery, moong sprouts, cherry tomatoes with a honey and mustard dressing

Pasta, chickpeas, cherry tomatoes, paneer and olives with a vinaigrette dressing

A Scent of Summer

Summer is here. We’re in Chennai, it's hot and humid outside. I sit under the fan enjoying its breeze, resisting the temptation to switch on the AC. Trying to save some electricity, with all the power-cuts one feels like conserving.

But looking out onto the verandah what distracts me is the Neem tree branches with its dense foliage, some of it practically at arm’s length. The newly-sprouted leaves give it lovely hues of green, and at the moment it is flowering profusely with tiny white flowers. The scent from these flowers is sweet jasmine-like and quite intense.

The scent lifts my spirits, and seeing the greenery at such close quarters always make me smile.  I know it is not going to last very long but I enjoy it, distracted from the thought that summer has more in store for us, both pleasant and not so pleasant.

The Neem from my Verandah

I took a shine to the floor

After a tiresome house-hunting spree last November we nearly gave up.  There seemed to be nothing available within our budget which appealed to us.

I am very fussy about a few things like the bathrooms, the floors, the colour of the walls and of course the state of the kitchen, the space and greenery around ...  Basically the energies of the place. The list could go on.

IS insists I’ll never find the ideal home unless it was my own house built to my own specifications.  But since the immediate plan was to rent an apartment, we decided that whatever its other minuses, it should at least be a fairly new building, like 5 years old or less.

But after 2 weeks of hard searching without success (we must have seen about 20 units) we agreed to see this older apartment suggested by a broker friend, who knowing our tastes was somewhat hesitant (if not reluctant) to show it to us.  Anyway we had no choice, so we insisted.

As we walk into this apartment the space seemed large as it was one large hall comprising of the sitting and dining areas.  Having seen some real poky living rooms during our search, that itself was a plus.

But before that the first thing that struck me was the floor.  The brick-red colour and the shine caught my eye. The same flooring continued through-out the flat which gave a lot of character to the place. My idea of floors is that they should be spotless and clean and in neutral shades. Among the dark floors, wooden floors are my favourite.  But this dark floor ... I got sold!

I’d not really seen these type of tiles before but I knew they were hand-made Athangudi tiles, very special to South Indian, basically Chettinad homes (though not too many left any more).

Despite disadvantages (like the building’s proximity to the main road so quite noisy, age of the building, etc.), there were positives as well, like the flat’s very convenient location in the heart of the city, the quite clean upkeep of the building, etc.

I contained my excitement .... I’d made up my mind.  This was to be our new home.

Happy Eightieth Birthday !

Today is my mother's eightieth birthday.

Unfortunately I am unable to be in Delhi with her on this milestone birthday, but both my brothers are there and hopefully she'll have a very pleasant time despite her strongly wanting to avoid any celebration. My thoughts are with her.

She has given us children her unstinted love, this shines through. She's been a strong woman throughout, despite becoming a widow at the young age of forty.  She lives alone and now longs for company. Only her regular prayers and a strict day-to-day routine keeps her going.  I have seen her go a bit frail recently and her memory fails her at times, but despite that, by God's grace she is generally healthy and active.

She is beautiful and has aged gracefully.

The more she's aged the more precious she's become to us.

I hope she finds satisfaction in whatever she does, and that she stays content.  I pray God continues to give her good health, and the fortitude to cope with life's surprises.

Down Memory Lane

Nanima

I found this picture among many old photos my cousin scanned of the family, then couldn't help but write this post.  This is a photograph of my maternal grandmother - my Nani. Most kids are more attached to their Nanis, they are special .... maybe because most of us were born in the maternal homes (or at least the first-borns) or maybe it is the mother-daughter bonding that brings us closer.

I have such fond memories of my childhood with her.  She did some of the things my own mother did not.  From my combing and plaiting her hair to snuggling up to her on her lounging sofa to flipping through pages of her wonderful pictorial encyclopedias and magazines.  This emotional bonding during the summers I spent with her in Bombay as a kid I will always treasure.

She must have been around sixteen when she married. Had six children, her last-born was born at the same time her eldest daughter was having her first baby!  Mother and daughter pregnant together …. she only studied till class 2 (got only a very rudimentary start in school, and then tutored at home till probably class 7 level).  She could read, write and speak good English, aside from Bengali, Gujarati, Marathi. Her style of dressing and her henna-coloured hair styled in a bun when she went out was quite a picture.

She had a mind of a child – fresh, eager to learn, absorb. Mostly self-taught, would read whatever she could lay her hands on….from Gujarati journals to Enid Blyton books for children! She was the one who introduced me to a lending library.

She had green fingers.  Was passionate about gardening, used to keep a huge plant encyclopedia for reference. Exotic fruit trees of Star-fruit, Rose apple, Water apple (a type of jamun), Phalsa (to name a few) were part of her garden. The flower varieties included Magnolias, Gerberas, mauve, pink and blue Hydrangias; Roses and bud Mogras grew in large wooden tubs in her terrace garden.  The Jui, Din Ka Raja and Raat Ki Rani were some of my favourites. Every evening she would make us collect the Jui and Mogras and hand-weave “kajras” for us.  As kids we used to play “four corners” near the Touch-me-nots and bench under the trellis of Alamandas.

To add to this, the lush coconut palms surrounding the house were a good supply of coconut oil and Jhadoos, all made at home under her supervision.

She also loved animals greatly. Her pet parrot "Mittoo" used to have tea with her; he would be brought out perched on a badminton racket and sipped tea from a teaspoon.  Her aquarium was always clean with a variety of fish: Angelfish, Black Guppies, the female segregated to give birth to tiny little black specks.  As kids we were really fascinated by all this.

She didn’t cook much herself but she had recipes handy from her Gujarati recipe book Ghar ni Rani. Tricolour ribbon cake and animal-shaped cookies were our all-time favourites. At tea-time she would dole out a mixture of sukhi bhel in newspaper cones like the street-vendors, her way to discourage us from eating out. My olfactory memory of the aromas from her kitchen are still fresh, and specially the smell of ripening mangoes mostly alphonsos which used to lie in a big Thala under her bed during the Mango season.

She studied homeopathy and would dispense medicine from her well-stocked medicine chest. She’d also help my grand-father with his secret Unani formulas and was a rather good critic of the products he made.

Despite her minimal education, early marriage and home-bound life, she was empowered, very broad-minded, more so than my own mother.

In her last days she seemed to become even more child-like, eating only mashed food, soup and rice, and going back to read Enid Blyton again.

These wonderful memories apart, she remains on my list of favourite persons.