Madhuca longifolia (Mahua!!)
Closures are necessary. Especially when you go to a Jharkhand village one fine Sunday, have an awesome reception, understand what a well means for a village, talk about how the land has changed their lives over the years- taking away of farmland from tribals at as low as Rs. 1, meet the survivor of last week’s cock fight, enjoy tea, see hadia and chullu ( for the uninitiated: local liquor) being brewed in practically every home and promise you’ll write a CD of the umpteen pictures you have clicked and personally deliver it before the end of the week (not to forget the mental note about writing a blog about it).

This was some three years back. The CD was never compiled and the blog never written. The guy from the village who works in the Pharmacy department at BIT bumps into you often enough to remind you of the broken promise but you always manage to console yourself that the promise has not really been broken only extended. Now as you sit numbering your days in BIT closure, as I said, is necessary.

Baijnath was courteous enough to let us into his house and not only answer our queries about neem and cowdung as preservatives or what he did with his DVD player but explain in excruciating detail how Chullu (or Mahua) is made.

Step 1. Mahua flowers are collected in wats and a few Gur ( whatsitcalled in Angrezi? Jaggery?) pieces are thrown in. The Mahua and Gur get acquainted over a period of eight days. The sweet smell of fermentation announces that the mixture is now ready for the next stage.

Step 2- A big fire is prepared in the chulah every Sunday and a complex apparatus with beautiful simplicity is set up. It has three basic parts-
1. The bottom most part is an aluminium matka that contains the fermented mixture and is in contact with the heat.
2. Above this rests the perforated earthen matka that has hidden in its belly a smaller earthen matka resting on three projections at the bottom.
3. On the top is a simple pot containing cool water.

Here is how it works- The heat acts on the fermented mix allowing intoxicating vapors to evaporate. This is mahua in its nascent state. It wiggles-waggles through the perforation on the base of the second pot, touches the cool base of the cold water container and mahua in its liquid form is born. Throughout the day the fire burns and drop by drop the liquor pot gets filled.

In the evening, the precious pot is taken out and all family members (male??) share it. How does it taste? You confidently approach the innocent looking water like substance. The taste eludes the taste buds and you work hard on figuring it out. A lot of sips later, when the curiosity about the taste still lingers in the air it hits you much like nothing else and then boom!!!

As the sun goes down the village forgets about how their settlement is slowly being swallowed. The real estate developer is building hideous row houses where once wheat grew, BIT wants a new building somewhere there, and young lads have been looking for jobs in the city for sometime now. But while the boom lasts they can forget about it. Morning punches them doubly in the face- life and mahua join hands. They sit on their thresholds waiting for the headache to pass only to be replaced by other ones.

Next: Why does the code book say-“ thou shalt not build on farmland or wetland” but they do, they do and they do……………………….

MEMORIES OF FOURTH YEAR

This year lethargy has had its hold on me otherwise this post would have appeared way back in June. This also marks my bloggiversary. What started as an activity for a curious soul on a summer afternoon, maybe to fill the void left by the disintegration of a long letter writing relationship, has sustained itself for four years now. More of this later…..for now let me stick to the topic…

B.I.T was its usual self-the drills had become all too familiar by now. So you find yourself blabbering away to glory in the 2k4 rooms while the ladies work hard on their thesis. As butru often points out, you suddenly have a lot of time at hand mostly because your sole commitment in the college has wooshed away. Yes, you do miss the animal tales, the music sessions, the ‘meet me now (4:45 a.m!!!!)” calls, forest walks and rides to nowhere but you also know that there is no point in getting depressed about it….look beyond.
Things have also cooled down on the academic front. The teachers take it easy and we follow lead. So, with all this time in the world you discover college like never before.

There is a drastic re-definition in friends. You finally begin to pick out the shams from the true gems. Yardstick- “People who do not have to spend an hour to achieve the – out-of-bed-look”. Evenings are free and spent curled up in a corner devouring some book or the other. Ah! You become your former self again….bliss! Society is fine but you need that withdrawing space where it’s you, your thoughts and the spider on the wall.

ANDC trophy work was fun- The visit to the haat every Saturday to study the Hadia and Mahua sellers, the Rs. 12 noodles, herbs and spices from the Jharkhand forest. You also discover a lot of things about your friends during group work- the last minute deserters matched by the crazy all night zealous workers. The last minute sheet finishing at CCD, haggling with the courier guy and reaching back at 9 all drenched.

LIK was better still. The visit to Banaras, living at Kautilya society guest house, the ratri jagaran sabhas, being at 11 pm on the ghats, being at 4 am on the ghats, watching the sun rise over the ganga, the taste of mallia melting in your mouth, hearing Prof. Singh talk about Banaras so passionately on assi ghat, aghoris, fighting for the rent and at last almost missing the train. Coming back- almost living in the design studio, passion of the group that blurred the boundary between day and night and finally the submission!! We did not win but it was one of the most satisfying exercises we have done.

One day you play along and eat the wild mushrooms Kaso so often cooks. Soon there is on spot on your skin that is not red. You rush home and stay back for a month only to return for zonasa in Calcutta. No shosher maach this time but much better performance at the events. You also stop part time view making unhappy with the money and start devoting time to competitions (more money and better satisfaction).

To pick out memories- The Rajjarappa trip will go down in history. You had to convince 6 girls to go with 12 boys they had never seen to a place they had never heard about!! “ See, they are really nice boys. They even touch my parents’ feet when they meet them (yardstick 2)”. “ They are decent and well behaved”. “There will be no drinking-smoking I assure you(yardstick 3).” You had to paint this angelic picture partly out of imagination because even you knew just two of them. You also had to define a code of behavior for the girls. “Don’t act snobbish, be friendly to all and carry some food please.”
In the morning things did not go as planned. The girls were ready by 7 but the boys turned up only after 9. The first impression we got of them- shaggy, stubble and leaning against a trekker at pmc!! The girls would have run back if I wasn’t there pushing them in. Things brightened up as the journey progressed. The initial hesitations were thrown aside hastily and soon people who had never seen each other were using pet names. The temple and boat ride were fun but the company was incredible. We couldn’t see the sulphur springs but nothing else was left un-explored. By lunch friendships has flourished and the laughter was not stopping at all. No body felt like going back so early so we took a detour to rukka dam, saw a nagpuri film being shot, posed for a gazzilion pics and finally came back by dusk. That night, both the hostels were abuzz recounting how much fun they had with total strangers!!

It was also the year of dirty politics. Bitotsav made everybody power crazy. People who were in teams till last year cursing pauaa were now in posts promoting it. Fights, corruption and giant egos all broke loose and I lost all the affection I has for this special event.

Thesis- the topic selection process was too overwhelming; you lost your mind and are still trying to untangle your thoughts!

Visiting the old age home was also an experience. Makes you wonder about the strange ways of nature. The parent-child relationship suffers from such parasitic influences-happy to take but only lies and deception when it comes to giving. However, I will never forget the optimism of the 105 years old marwari lady who washes her clothes, does all her chores, reads and does not have a single regret in life!!!

You see what drastic change retirement brought about in your parents’ lives. From an 8 to 8 schedule they suddenly had nothing to do. It took a while but I think that they are settling in and re-discovering things they never had the time for earlier – Gardening, shopping, cooking (and composting!!), traveling, bathing Mia (v.imp), reading, writing, painting………

Now the last leg of our architectural studies has begun. Thesis is in full swing however you feel very disconnected to the whole thing. Maybe it will get cured in sometime. College seems pretty empty without your batch. Zonasa preps are again gaining momentum. Transtaling Traditions also eats up a lot of energy. Have many plans for the coming session- Hazaribaag, North East, Bihar…….ah! the blessed wings of fantasy appear again.....

Also have to clear up a lot of pending blogs……coming soon- “ Hadia and Chullu- the recipe”.

One man's waste is another's resource.........





As Mayawati goes on making park after park in Lucknow form tonnes of red and pink sandstone straight from Rajasthan....spending unimaginable sums of public money.... local people yet again display qualities of spontaneous bussiness sense.......
The waste stone from Kansi Ram Smarak park is being turned into Sil-Batta( mortar pestel??? (for want of better translation)), statues and what not!!!!!!
What an idea Sir-Jee!!!!






Image 1- Sil- batta sold along the road with Kansi Ram Smarak taking form in the background

Image 2- Aam admi ko kuch to fayeda hua!!!!

LOW COST AND ORGANIC B'DAY

Nothing kills me more in life than cliches'. And spending money. B'days being a regular occurance in our lives tend to loose their sheen if you end up doing the same thing each year. I think all of us have become a bit too old for the cake cutting and smearing(please don't waste food. lot of people would kill for it), the wrapped up gifts and the brutal beatings!
There are a lot of interesting and inspiring tales of people who do charitable deeds, give up old habits and turn a new leaf. ours did good, not so much for others as for ourselves.
It was to be my last b'day in the hostel with my inmates so i decided to be as whimsical as i could. the b'day 'cake' was a 5kg papaya carved to pay regards to a misterious individual called 'psycho sunny' (artwork-Audreza Das). we also served guava with chaat masaala on a dona. Tto wash all this down Anuradha served hot lemon tea (people were requested to carry their own mugs)
At the end of the day, we were happy that there was no heap of styrofoam glasses and cups in our dustbin. we did not feet overtly stuffed rather in the morning a lot of people described their 'system clenzing' tales in explicit detail..........

DASVEDANIA......



If ragging is supposed to be torturous......then how come we laughed our heads off
if freshers is supposed to be an economoical event.........how come we were treated like kings
if if seniors are supposed to be snobby...how come ours worked for us late into the night
if there is supposed to be a batch demarcation........how come we spent all our time in their rooms
if juniors are supposed to bow down in respect of their seniors.....how come we made ours run #$%ed
if good byes are supposed to be good riddance.......how come we cried so bitterly at ours
to the most incredible bunch of girls i met.........muah!!

Thesis Topic.....
ah......the time has finally come....
four years of architectural education to be condensed in one topic............
ideas and suggestion welcome............

Haystack Diries......
Few things can be as pleasurable as lying on the haysack all day long, especially when you have an exam the next day.......

There are times when B.i.T just takes your breath away..........

On a walk down O.C road when it is raining hard.......

Strolling barefoot on the upper lawns.........

Sitting by the river when the morning mist is just lifting off.........

Clear sparkling sky and the hide and seek game the clouds and the moon play.............

The carpet of brown leaves that cover everything before February...........

It is not every day you are blessed to live amidst 760 acres of reserved forest and an unpolluted river. Feel blessed and make the most of it........................

IF
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

--Rudyard Kipling

RECYCLING IN ARCHITECTURE

This is how one thing led to another.........
Aayushi said we shud do a seminar on recycling in architecture....
Amrita and I were only too happy with the idea......
the research part was fun.....
it was so much fun that we decided to break from the mould and went ahead and did a skit on the seminar stage, made a model out of recycled ciggie pacs,screened vedios and submitted a report on gobar plastered recycled paper.
the fun did not end just there.....
our report got published in the Council of Architecture magazine.....here is the link.....
http://www.coa.gov.in/mag/Sept-08-Lowres%20pdf/20-22-Neelakshi%20Joshi-Web.pdf
whatz more.......
i went ahead and participated in Indin Green Building Council's Create with Waste competition to make a dwelling completely out of waste..........
that was good and i got the jury commendation award and a chance to attend the IGBC congresss in mumbai....
things did not end here......all this has led to a great deal of awareness not only for us but for our entire looby mates as they get to see everything from recycled book racks made out of packing material to building models from old cartons..........
currently we are obssessed.......and hope to remain so for a long time.....

MY ENLIGHTENING TRAIN JOURNEY..............

I was travelling alone on one of the worst trains in this country. At 8:30pm, when i boarded, i thought it wise to quietly climb on my upper berth and shut off the 5 other fellow passengers. At six, the next morning, i woke to a differnt world altogether.

I climbed down with my design manual and started studying, waiting for banaras to come. the gentleman naxt to me, after observing me for some time said.......

GM-" adhyaatm mein ruchi rakhtee hain??"

ME- haan thoree bahut, aapko kaise pata?

GM- yeh aapke haath mmein bandhe dhagee bata rahain hain.

A conversation ensued in which i found out that he was a sanskrit scholar, teaching for 20 years.....

An ayurvedic doctor come Vaastu-Shastri sitting in front of us joined in...........

This was gonna be my ideal day..........

What followed was a deep conversation about everthing from the by-lanes of Banaras to the stories of Mahabarat....

They did not agree on a lot of things but still had an interesting conversation, with me as a silent receptor.......

This is exactly what Amartya Sen was talking about....THE ARGUMENTATIVE INDIAN...........

with his immeasurable capacity for bakar............

with his deep knowledge of the past....present and future...............

with his strong roots......stemming from a bihari village or a UP town.............

our compartment soon became a debating stage...........with lots of people jumping in.........

That day when i got down...i felt refreshed..........truly refreshed!!!

ARCHITECTURAL INSPIRATIONS
FROM IMITATION TO INNOVATION


Humans learn by imitation. We learn to speak by hearing people, to write by following the curving patterns of our teacher’s hand and to draft by watching our sleep starved seniors masterly rolling a Rotoring. However, life would be miserably dull if it were to stop at imitation. Blessed be the human faculty of innovation! Imitation makes talkers, typists and drafters. Innovation creates orators, authors and architects.

As young students of architecture we often find ourselves in a fix when confronted with a brand new design problem. Then beings the frantic search in magazines, journals and books for something similar. So far so good. After this most of us begin to go astray. Consciously or unconsciously, we copy from the sea of information presented in front of us. We do not stop to apply our brains. We do not stop to question, improve and improvise. That is where the innovation stops and a rut sets in. it becomes too easy to drift along with the flow rather that to challenge ourselves to swim against it.

Timeless architecture has always come when architects have broken down all shackles of norms. They have evolved but never forgot for whom and why did they build. Great architecture is always unique and user specific. Given the diverse shapes, sizes and values that we humans come in, no buildings should ever look the same again.

The source of imitation also makes a big difference. Given our fascination for all things foreign, we blindly copy from buildings that were designed in a different climate, for a different set of people and for a different reason. The most starking example of this would be our attitude when we were given a problem to design a commercial center. Pat came out designs that were replicas of air conditioned, multi coloured boxes we call malls. How many of us went out and explored the markets that exist in the old part of our cities? How many of us studied the culture and traditions of the Indian consumer? This does not mean that we appose change. You cannot afford to shut your eyes to the world when everything is moving so forward so fast. But that does not mean that it be done at the cost of local values, aspirations and needs.

Observe the work of two master architects – Raj Reval and Charles Correa. Raj Reval’s Asian Games Village present how cluster housing, a tradition in India to ward off heat by mutual shading, can be applied in a modern context to meet today’s demands. Charles Correa’s City Center would give any mall a run for its money by its beautifully placed kund, a feature to accommodate Calcutta’s ‘adda’ culture.

Five years of architectural education is designed to make logical thinkers and exceptional designers out of us. From subjects like rendering we move to hard core design. We are expectected to evolve from imitation to innovation. Five years of constant night-outs, backaches and bark circles would go to waste if we do not learn to love and appreciate the work we have set out to do, if we do not put our mind, body, heart and soul into it. At 21 you and I can afford to be idealistic fools. But I hope we still remain just as crazy at 51. So, dear reader, no matter who you are and what you do, fight it out and don’t give in. innovate, O Architect! Innovate.

REDISCOVERY........

What can be more gratifying to the human sense of curiosity than a library. All those books overflowing with knowledge...just waiting to be opened. For a person whose social life underwent drastical changes this semester, I found solace in the B.I.T Mesra library!
Things got better when a friend fixed a date with me in the library. We did random searching on the comp with surprising results. There were entire sections dedicated to Yoga, cookery and even sex! we even bumped into plays by Girish Karnad and travelogues from the Himalayas. It was a different way of 'hanging out' and it was awesome!
On other days, when i am in a graver mood, I browse through the Architectural section. They have some very rare and good book there which students hardly access. Add to this free newspapers and journals and magazines from all over the world.
Other random observations-
1. there are still a lot of people who do actually sit down there and study.....real study. Very inspiring!
2. if we ever happen to strike up a conversation with a person the strict librarian in the maroon pathan suit walks up to us and says the same line( every single time!) " agar baat karni hai to canteen mein jaa ke karo." Is this not a flaw in the system?? shouldn't a place in the library be dedicated to human-to-human knowledge exchange? Should a conversation be a big sin even if it isin't disturbing other readers?

Botton life is.....the library is currently my favourite haunt........it is a free bookstore........and a really strong support system..........
MUAH!

A Thousand Splendid Suns………

A good story is something that, when read, makes you feel you are laying on someone’s lap and the web of words is flowing into your ears. It is an effortless process. But the beauty of it is that when it ends you feel mesmerized, deeply moved and in some ways transformed. To Kill a Mocking Bird did it. And now this…….
Khaled Hosseeini’s book takes you on a journey deep into Afghanistan. Two women experience momentous changes in their lives as the world around them trembles and collapses. It shows the things a mother would do to protect her children. She will face disgrace, go hungry, accept violence and even kill.
The book is filled with moments that talk volumes about this love. Leaving her daughter Aziza in an orphanage where she could be fed and clothed, Laila holds her hand and says, “Look at me, Aziza. I‘ll come and see you. I’m your mother. If it kills me, I’ll come and see you.”
It is a story of women wronged by men. It is so full of succinct sentences that I had to stop and appreciate every now and then. Says Nana, “Like a compass needle that points north, a man’s accusing finger always finds a woman. Always.” She even goes on to say, “a man’s heart is a wretched thing. It isn’t like a mother’s womb. It won’t bleed and it won’t stretch to make room for you.”
But don’t be misled into believing that all men are bad. There is Babi who believes in educating his daughter and is patient and loving towards his wife. There is Tariq who comes back to Afghanistan, when every one was leaving it, to rescue his childhood sweetheart. It is endearing how he says, “I’ll follow you to the end of the world, Laila.”
The story ends on a positive note. Even after the ravages caused by warring tribes and the worst possible things done by Taliban, hope floats. People gather bricks and rebuild the once great nation. Flowers sprout in the plants in old rocket shells. Rocket flowers.
The author leaves us with few lines from a ghazal by Hafez……….

Joseph shall return to Canaan, grieve not,
Hovels shall turn to rose gardens, grieve now.
If a flood should arrive, to drown all that’s alive,
Noah is your guide in the typhoon’s eye, grieve not.

After a lot of searching and digging.....from various sources.....here are the complete lyrics of Beru Pako......a Kumaoni folk song.....

Beru Pako.........

beru pako bara maasa...ho narain,

kaphal paako chita,mere chaila....(2)

Runi bhuni din aayo...ho narain,

puja mere maita,mere chila....(2)

Tero khuto kan buro...ho narain,

mero khuto pera,mere chail......(2)

Almara kee nanada devi...ho narain

anar jhakari ko sai ma...mere chaila

teri meri maya dekhi

log khani bhaima....mere chaila!....(2)

Translation---

Bero ripens all around the year.........o Narayan

Kaphal ripens only during chait....my beloved

Hot days are here...O Narayan

take me to my mother's home.....my beloved

If a thorn pierces your foot...O Narayan

I feel the pain.....my beloved

At Almora's Nanda devi,

In the shade of a pomegranade tree,

Seeing our love

people get decieved.......my deloved

Roots.....

Roots by Alex Haley traces back family history down seven generations to...Kunta Kinte....who called the guitar Ho and the river Gamby Bologna.....who grew up in a village in Africa and when he was out one day to cut wood, was captured by white men and forced into slavery.....

An interesting story that made me think about all the stories passed down generations by word of mouth. here are two of my favourites-

Durga Dutt Joshi was a Jhijharian(Jhijar is a famous muhalla near Almora known for joshis who when speak....speak so bitter.....that even the food in ur stomach gets burnt!). His father, the diwaan of Satna ensured that he had a good education. Though DDJ started off as a school teacher, he was soon promoted to the post of 'inspector of schools'. He travelled from one town to another on his white horse Chetak. Legend has it that he was very strict about the level of education imparted. So strict that after a tour his bag contained ears...yes....EARS and chutiaas(a brahmin boy's trademark bunch of hair) of truant schoolboys!!!

After retirement, being the eldest he enforced strict rules in his house as well. His younger brothers, fond of alcohol, never dared to uncork a bottle at home. They hired rickshaws and roamed around town drinking all evening, as far away from home as possible.

His grand children, taught by him, suffered the worst. On getting 95/100 in maths they were asked...in his thunderous voice......" bakee 5 number kahaan gayee??" He did not hesitate in bringing down his whip(yes he has a whip too!!) on their backs if they deviated an inch from studies.

I was shown these whip marks by my father (who, may i mention, has a flare for fiction), one of DD Joshi's grandsons, before exams and i was prompt to hit the books!

Badri Dutt Pande was very young when he lost both his parents. His elder brother supported his education and he became a professor at Chakrata, Garhwaal. But his youth coincided with Gandhi's call for freedom and he was quick to respond. Soon he became a prominent freedom fighter from Kuamon. He led the Coolie Begar Andolan and came to be known as Kurmanchal Kesari.

He was sent to jail often and his family was left to fend for themselves. On one of his jail stays, he got the news that his eldest son ,Tarek Nath(18) had drowned in the Ganga at Banaras. Two days later, more bad news followed. His daughter, on hearing about her brother's death killed herself in grief. Badridutt Pande was so overcome with sadness it threatened to engulf him too. He wrote a book called " Kurmao ka Itihaas" to emerge from the shock of loss. This book is still referred by historians.

He was offered a seat in the parliament after India's independence but he did not like the job. He was a freedom fighter and that is how he retired.

Once when he, along with other freedom fighters, decided to wave the Indian Flag atop Almora's police station, they were joined by hundreds of citizens. From among the crowd peeped a girl no more than 7 years old, with a flag in her hand. He held her up in his arms and she waved the Indian flag!!

This girl grew up to become a beautiful woman who married his youngest son Shakti Prasaad Pande. She was also his ardent supporter and companion in old age. She had lotsa children and later lotsa grandchildren. And whenever these grandchildren stepped the line or did something wrong they were told about the man who was their great grand father, a man with upright morals and undwindling determination. And given my affinity for misadventure i guess i have heard about him much more that any of my cousins.

Confluence of Alakhnanda and Mandakini at Rudrapryaag

many beautiful pics of Chopta trek still lost in the formatted memory card. Please help!

Habit- That easy way out......taking a motored vehicle to even the nearest of places.....and public transport just won't do...it has to be my own car...my own scooter......or my reserved auto!
Solution- something Doordarshan propagated many years ago.....start paddling.....or walking...as the case may be.....or get on that train or bus!!
Extreme- my first solar car!!
Did ya hear about- walkways in malls that generate energy from the foot pressure of people walking on it??

Habit- a very plastic life.......dat bag followes me everywhere.....while shopping for veggies, in the clothes' store....even wayyyy up in the Himalayas....and itz wide spread influence is not the only problem. It's gonna be around even when my third generation would look out of their old age home!!!!!

Solution- dig out that old sling bag.......cloth,jute....anything....and learn to say NO THANK YOU I HAVE MY OWN BAG everytime the shopkeeper carelessly packs all the merchandize in innumerable poly bags.

Extreme- what to do about the tonnes of polythene all around us?? Some people have started using it in railroad construction and some as a filler element in buildings......go discover!

Habit- giving pointless gifts to friends like photo frames, stuffed toys, cards. Eeeeh....too big a crbon footprint and no real feelings.

solution- gift plants( potted!!!), seeds........

Extreme- no gifts dude. i love you...u love me......bas ho gaya!!!