Twenty- five Seven

Vishnu’s gone on holiday yet again!

June 30, 2012

So it’s holiday time for Lord Vishnu yet again and as usual we will be celebrating this day by eating specially prepared “fast food”. Bayda, the bai has already kept the saboodana soaking overnight , roasted and pounded the peanuts and I look forward to some simply yummy saboodana khichadi today. This year His holiday is going to be longer because our Hindu calendar has an extra month – this time it is an extra Bhadrapad. Since the Ganesh festival is celebrated in the month of Bhadrapad , we should, technically speaking be celebrating it twice. But, in the way of things which have no logic, while we have two Bhadrapad’s, and have to observe the period of fasting for five months instead of four, we celebrate the Ganesh festival just once – in the “real” Bhadrapad and not in the month that’s squeezed in! (What a pity that we can’t eat modaks twice over)

However, the extra month or Adhik Mahina as it is called is also celebrated as all the months of the year have to be honoured and commemorated but that is a story for another time .

Today, however, is special for me because that was the day all those years ago when my little one came into my life – on Ashadhi Ekadashi the day when the pilgrims congregate at Pandharpur. My older one also came into my life towards the end of Chaturmas on Kartik Navmi which is just two days away from Kartiki Ekadashi , when the festival of Pandharpur is celebrated yet again and is it mere coincidence that my two precious gifts were given to me at this time? It has always been my wish to walk the 250 km distance between Alandi (a small town away from Pune) and Pandharpur along with the pilgrims and I did make a few attempts to find out how I could join the pilgrims but obviously was unsuccessful. One day, this wish too will be fulfilled……………

In the meanwhile though, I do try to observe some kind of discipline for these four months: sacrificing eating something I really like and pray that the God Above continues to look down kindly on my my precious ones.
A different Mumbai Sky

June 29, 2012

Yesterday my sky was dark and gloomy when I woke up in the morning. This was quite a dampner as I had planned a day out at the Sanjay Gandhi National Park. With family visiting from the US, I had decided to take the kids out to see something which even I had never seen. I had got up in the morning and made a whole heap of sandwiches and some fish patties to accompany the brownies I had made the night before. As my picnic basket was already packed I thought I’d brave the ominous skies and go ahead with my plan. It turned out to be a great decision as I had one of the best days of sightseeing in a long time.
(Admittedly the webpage looks much better than the real thing though!)

Mumbai is one of those places that has everything to see and nothing to see. This is largely because it is a city that has to be experienced and lived in rather than “seen”. So after one makes a tour of the Relics of the Raj, the Zoo with no animals , the Aquarium with Fish of Doubtful origin, the Museums that can be done in an hour and the hundreds of Malls that have sprung up with almost the same merchandise, the “iconic” restaurants that have to be visited, there is pretty much nothing else left to do especially since Elephant Island across the bay is inaccessible in the monsoons.So I thought I’d venture north into the suburbs and visit the erstwhile Borivali National Park re-christened as the Sanjay Gandhi National Park somewhere in the late 20th century.

The drive to the park was pleasant enough considering the distance ( a fair bit) and the traffic ( normal) and by 10.15 we were at the gates to the park. After paying an entrance of just around Rs.220, we drove up to Kanheri caves, the old Buddhist caves which were the only other tourist attraction in the park worth seeing. Driving up a narrow leafy road we came across several youngsters walking around the park, frolicking in the eddies that suddenly came to life after the heavy morning showers and of course some vicious looking monkeys that abound in the area. There was a light drizzle as we climbed up the steps to the caves ( admission Rs. 5 per person) and I was amazed that I’d never ever come here before!

Monkey in the park

Though the park was clean and green, the bus that we were supposed to use for the Lion & Tiger safari didn’t look that inviting. Besides with the rain, we wondered which animals would be about, so after a quick picnic in the car, we decided to call it a day. But when we got out on the main road, we realised that it was just a little after 12 so I thought I’d make a trek to the Golden Pagoda which I’d seen from the sky above while returning home from a Kochi flight. The trouble was that I had no idea where it was or how to get there. We asked the helpful traffic police who had no idea of such a place and were wondering whether we should abandon plan when I thought of JUST DIAL. This turned out to be an inspired move and we got the contact details of the Vipassana Meditation Centre. A call to the centre gave us directions on how to get there.

Are we in Burma?

Once again it was a long drive through a Mumbai completely unknown to me. At parts it was modern, the urbanisation petering out to salt pans and villages as we neared the Pagoda. It was beautiful driving through this “rough” country which pretty much was what Bombay was all about fifty years ago. East Indian cottages with roadside crosses reminded my sister-in-law of her childhood visits to her ancestral home in Goa.

The Pagoda itself is visible for quite a distance and looks enchantingly like Burma or Thailand from afar. The complex is still unfinished though the central Pagoda is complete and operational. There was a stillness and a peaceful calm which according to the guide emanated from the relics of the Buddha consecrated in an urn atop the steeple. Whatever it was, this place had a unworldly charm about it and was definitely worth the long ride from town.

The Central Dome

The central dome the guide explained was the largest unsupported ( with no pillars or columns) stone dome made with interlocking stones. There were floor ducts which filled the space with cool air and vents on top with exhaust fans to remove the hot air thus ensuring a comfortable area for 3000 people to meditate in. There were free one hour ana pana sessions in the morning and evening at the Central dome for anyone to participate in but if you want to attend a regular 10 day course, you will have to make a prior reservation.

For more skies from around the world go visit
Preserving a mother’s legacy

June 27, 2012

Ro, one of Hubby dear’s dearest friends called up early this morning with the news that she was going “Gara” shopping.

” Hey, I’m going to Naju Daver’s this evening, would you like to come?” I immediately said yes because this was literally an opportunity of a lifetime. Naju Davar is famous for reviving the hand embroidered sari or Gara as it is known among the Parsi community that wears them.

The Parsis are Zoroastrians who fled from Persia to escape persecution by the Muslims. They settled down in Gujerat where their boat landed and adopted the ways of the natives while promising to keep to themselves and not propagate their religion. Always willing to adapt and amalgamate, they were the few Indians who didn’t mind associating with the British and became willing partners in business and trade. The Parsis have been a progressive community and have produced luminaries in every field : art, literature, music, medicine, sports, industry and of course business.

Lace & Silk

The Gara is sheer magic – hand embroidered chamois or shantung silk saris introduced to the Parsi community by seafaring traders to China during the Opium trade in the heydays of the Raj ( early 1800s). Possibly brought home as a peace offering to his wife by a Parsi who got a length of 6 yards of silk especially embroidered, it soon became a status symbol and a MUST in the wardrobe of every Parsi woman worth her patra nu macchi and lagan nu custar. And what saris they were ! They were veritable works of art , finely embroidered with satin stitch or chain stitch or French knots, there were birds of paradise, peonies and figures with temples and bridges – each one a priceless piece to be handed down the generations. The work is so fine that you can wear it inside out and you won’t be able to tell the difference!

Luckily the Parsis still wear a sari to their traditional functions and you can still see some dowagers happily swishing their garas while jiving and rocking away at the Navjote and Wedding receptions. Sadly, garas are few and far between these days as the younger girls are not fond of saris and mothers have a hard time convincing their girls to even look at one leave alone wear one!

Naju Daver was fortunate to have her daughter Farzeen share her passion. Today, Farzeen comes down to Mumbai from Sydney to keep alive her mother’s legacy – the business her mother set up all those years ago.
With a renewed interest in all things old and glorious, the gara is available at several shops on/off Lamington Road or made to order by other designers. But these are machine embroidered and are not a patch on the exquisite, highly coveted and prized hand embroidered sari by Naju Davar.

Stepping into the past

I quickly made my way down the C road off Forjett Street to the building at the end. A building which had definitely seen better days had the words ” CROWN MANSION’ spelled out in tile and I went inside a darkened staircase, past a sleepy dog, two flights up a worn wooden staircase to a flat that sported the traditional chalk designs and a name board announcing NAJU DAVER.

The door was opened by a young girl who turned out to be Farzeen, Naju’s daughter who let me in. From the beaming smile on Ro’s face, I could make out that she had found what she was looking for and after the introductions, sat down to see the saris that very few are privileged to see.

“These saris can take all of 6 months to a year to make, depending on the density of the work and the complexity of the design”, explained Farzeen as she proudly showed me yard after yard of embroidered drape carefully worked by highly skilled and trained craftsmen. She showed me the entire range of work : sequined chiffon with cutwork borders, crepes and silks worked with zardozi and crystals . I simply couldn’t take my eyes off a gorgeous cream sari completely embroidered with flowers and leaves and birds of paradise worked in shades of pink and green, all done in millions of delicate French knots. Another masterpiece was a jet black china cheen with tiny Chinese figurines and some koras ( handworked borders) in ari work.

Ro had got along her old koras and garas handed down to her. Some of the silver had been oxidized over the years and needed to be re-polished before putting on a new fabric. Some saris had begun to crumble and Ro wanted to rescue the border and make another one. It was fascinating to see these old laces and borders, and discuss which colour and fabric and would best set it off .

As the fish in the tank stared at us, we were transported back to Victorian days when garas were at their prime. In today’s day and age when most girls repair hems with staple pins and replace a broken hook with an office pin, the Gara like the sari and traditional skills like embroidery and needle work are a fast dying craft left in the memory of old aunts and grandmas.

It will take more than just passion to keep alive this tradition – “You have to wear and enjoy the Gara” says Farzeen , ” and pass it on to your daughter or daughter in law! “

I can’t wait for December to see Ro jiving away in her garas during the festivities of her son’s wedding, under the fairly lights at the Jeejeebhoy Agiary.

Naju Daver Saris are available only on request and shown by prior appointment so ensure that you call in advance. And for those of you who don’t want to follow the link, you can call 9821338722 or 23862640 or email at najudaver@hotmail.com.

Be warned : These saris are irresistible so be prepared to fall in love and take away a precious Gara. Needless to say, take along a fat pocketbook as well!