A Flag for the Republic

January 26, 2026 ~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 1 Comment

Every Republic Day, the tricolour appears with ritual predictability. It rises along Rajpath, flutters on homes, schools and government offices, slips into newspaper mastheads and WhatsApp greetings. We see it as a finished symbol, but the Indian flag, like the Republic it represents, took quite a while to take its final design.

The earliest Indian flags of the twentieth century were crowded and emotional. In 1906, a flag hoisted at Calcutta’s Parsee Bagan Square carried multiple colours, symbols, even words — less a flag than a manifesto. A year later, Bhikaji Cama unfurled another version in Stuttgart, turning cloth into quiet provocation. These were attempts to imagine India visually and politically, before it existed as a nation.

In 1917 came the Home Rule Flag designed by Annie Besant and Bal Gangadhar Tilak, including stars, stripes, the Union Jack, crescent moon and more. A design as complicated as the messaging.

By 1921, when Pingali Venkayya presented a tricolour to Mahatma Gandhi, the design had shifted towards restraint. After much discussion and a few changes, this basic design of three colour stripes and a wheel at the centre was adopted in 1931. Colours were chosen not just for beauty but for what they might stand for —values and ethical balance. The charkha at the centre had a strong message: spin, labour, self-reliance and progress. This was adopted as the flag of the Indian National Congress.

On 22 July 1947, the Constituent Assembly adopted the flag we know today. The charkha was replaced by the Ashoka Chakra — an ancient symbol pressed into modern service. Saffron, white and green were retained, standing for courage, peace and growth. There was no text, no ruler’s emblem, no date to anchor it to a single moment. It was a disciplined choice, and one that we are proud of.

When Design Meets Judgment

All flags are beloved by the people of the country. But there is also design aesthetics. What makes a flag good from this perspective? This question has spawned an entire subculture of passionate experts who evaluate flags with great seriousness. Their principles are deceptively simple: a flag should be easy to draw, limited in colour, free of text, and recognisable at a distance. A flag, they insist, must work when it is old, faded, flapping, or badly stitched. History may explain a design, but it does not excuse a cluttered one.

By these measures, many flags around the world falter. Coats of arms dissolve into visual noise. Mottos disappear into creases. Seals that look impressive on paper collapse on fabric. In the process, a curious truth emerges: symbolism ages better when it is spare.

The Curious Case of Flag Rankings

Over the last two decades, flags have been pulled into the modern compulsion to rank everything. Design schools, vexillological associations (i.e, association of people who study flags), online polls, children’s surveys, and pop culture lists have all attempted to crown the world’s most beautiful flags. The results vary, but patterns repeat.

Japan’s rising sun is endlessly praised for its calm authority. Switzerland’s square flag earns admiration for bold simplicity. Canada’s maple leaf is often held up as a model of contemporary national branding. Nepal’s double-pennant shape wins points simply for refusing to conform. These flags succeed not because they shout, but because they know exactly what they are.

The rankings are hardly neutral. Familiarity influences taste. Politics sneaks in. Yet when designers, schoolchildren and casual observers repeatedly gravitate towards the same flags, it suggests certain features which resound across cultures.

And Where Does India Stand?

India rarely tops these lists, but it almost never sinks either. In most design-based rankings, the tricolour settles comfortably in the upper third of the world’s flags. It is respected rather than sensational.

Its strengths are structural. The layout is clean. The colours are distinctive without being aggressive. The symbolism is layered but not overloaded. Most importantly, there is no text — a decision that has quietly protected the flag from linguistic politics and historical expiry dates.

The Ashoka Chakra is both the flag’s greatest strength and its mildest complication. Conceptually, it is rich: law, motion, moral order. Visually, it is intricate. Purists point out that twenty-four spokes violate the famous rule that a child should be able to draw a flag from memory. But perhaps that tension is apt. A flag is not meant to be reduced to a doodle.

In comparative terms, India often ranks above older European flags burdened with heraldry and below ultra-minimalist icons like Japan or Bangladesh. As a post-colonial flag, however, it scores especially well — modern without being rootless, symbolic without being authoritarian.

The Constitution and the Display

For decades after Independence, ordinary citizens were not freely allowed to fly the national flag. Its use was governed by strict rules, reserved largely for government buildings and official occasions.

But in 2002, a Supreme Court judgment affirmed that flying the national flag was a fundamental right under freedom of expression, the Flag Code of India was liberalised. The tricolour could finally enter homes, balconies and private spaces. It was a quiet but significant shift: the flag moved from being a state-controlled emblem to a shared civic symbol.

Republic Day is about the Constitution, but it is also about the quiet endurance of symbols. The Indian flag has survived regime changes, political churn, commercial misuse and overexposure. Today, it flies proudly over tanks and textbooks, protests and parades.

Happy Republic Day!

–Meena

Beauty in Imperfection: Kintsugi

September 11, 2025 ~ millennialmatriarchs ~ Leave a comment

This week Meena wrote about the Japanese reverence for precision and perfection with reference to sationery. Many aspects of Japanese life, as well as products, display the concept of kirei that refers to ‘clean’, ‘beautiful’ or ‘elegant’. While the Japanese revere perfection, they equally celebrate imperfection. Nothing personifies this better than the concept of kintsugi. This word combining the Japanese words for ‘gold’ and ‘joinery’ translates roughly to mean ‘joining with gold’ and refers to a 500 year-old art in which broken pottery is repaired with a seam of lacquer and precious metal. The repair is done not with the aim of disguising the crack, but rather highlighting it to create a piece of art. The joining is involves fine craftsmanship.

Traditionally, kintsugi is entirely based on the use of urushi lacquer. Urushi refers to the tree sap of the lacquer tree, a type of tree that can be found in Japan, China and also on the Korean peninsula. It is widely used for various crafts in Eastern Asia, such as Japanese lacquerware. Urushi is a natural material that has outstanding protective and adhesive properties. Urushi lacquer is used at all stages of the joining process from sticking the pieces together to the gold finish. While urushi lacquer has been used for thousands of years as an adhesive to create or repair objects, the use of gold and lacquer for restoration is believed to have evolved later, dating back to the Muromachi period (1336 AD to 1573 AD).Historically it is craftmen specializing in lacquerware who also did kintsugi. This was their side activity during the winter when the lacquerware business was usually slow.

There are several stories associated with how this began. In one version a Japanese shogun sent his cherished tea bowl to China for repairs after it had been broken. It was returned stapled together with metal which was the common technique then. Disappointed at the clumsy outcome, he asked Japanese artisans to restore the bowl in a way that honoured the craftsmanship of the object. The craftsmen put together the pieces by repairing the cracks with lacquer mixed with powdered gold. The effect was beautiful, restoring the aesthetics as well as functionality of the bowl. And so, the story goes, kintsugi came to be–the technique that highlights flaws rather than disguising them, creating a new piece of art that retains the functionality of the object. As a craft and an art form, kintsugi challenges conventional expectations. This is because the technique goes further than repairing an object but actually transforms and intentionally changes its appearance.

Kintsugi is more than an art and craft form. It is inextricably linked with the Japanese philosophy of wabi-sabi. This comprises two core concepts – wabi and sabi. Though related, each has its own distinct meaning in the Japanese language. Wabi represents a rustic, understated form of elegance that avoids extravagance and embraces the authentic, the modest and humble, and avoids anything ostentatious or overdesigned. Sabi refers to reverence of the naturally aged and organically withered objects which have acquired a special character over the passage of time.

Put together the concept of wabi-sabi centres on the philosophy that nothing stays the same forever, and the acceptance of transience, imperfection, and beauty in simplicity. It urges us to celebrate the changes over the passage of time. This is a uniquely Japanese sense of imperfect, impermanent beauty in contrast to the values of perfection and permanence.

The kintsugi technique is an extension of the philosophy of wabi-sabi. The restoration of the broken pieces is a slow and painstaking process, carried out with love and respect. It is literally a labour of love, love for the fragile beauty and age of something that deserves due care and reverence. While the word refers to this specific process it is a reflection of the philosophy of a culture that values the old and imperfect, (including a population which has the highest number of centenarians!).

In an age of mass production, conformity, and “use and throw” we are quick to reject anything that does not fit the mould, and even quicker to throw away something which has outgrown its use, is even slightly chipped or dented, and perhaps not ‘in fashion’ any longer (including putting our elders in the care of others).

Going back to where I started, as an avid collector of stationery all my life, I have wonderful memories of going to a shop called Chimanlals and selecting a variety of writing paper and envelopes, and the joy of writing on these with a carefully-filled fountain pen, sealing it in an envelope, and going to the post office to attach stamps and posting the missives. The period of anticipation of the letter reaching its addressee, and the sweet impatience of awaiting the response was a treasured part of a life that moved at a slower pace. I feel sad for a generation that will not know these simple pleasures. In the ‘virtual’ exchange of communication at the speed of sound, we have lost the mindfulness and ritual that is a part of the zen of stationery. It is heartening that Japan still has a Stationery Expo. I would so love to be there!

–Mamata

International day of Happiness: Caring & Sharing

March 20, 2025 ~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 2 Comments

In recent times there have been a number of articles about experiments/initiatives to create ‘safe’ places for GenZ achievers where they can simply meet others of their ilk, and as one piece put it “form communities of shared interests and ideas, far away from the superficial posing of the digital world”.

It is thought provoking, and indeed saddening to read about these. Caught in the frenetic pace of a work culture where people feel they do not have the ‘luxury of time’ that they perceive friendship demands. As one person put it “Colleagues can never be your friends in a competitive space; besides you don’t want to see them in your private time and space”. The frequent moves from job to job, even place to place, the “stress” of meeting targets, and the long hours spent in cyberspace where the screen is king, leave little time and energy for meaningful human interactions. There is a sense of isolation, leading to a precipitous plunge towards the ultimate act of giving up everything, including one’s own life. What a very sorry state of affairs. Such futility, such a waste of the best years of one’s life. “Burning out” at an age when they should be blossoming into vibrant human beings.

I feel so blessed that I grew up, and came of age, in an age of friendship. A time when ‘Time’ was a gift freely given and shared between human beings, and not the ubiquitous screen. When families caught up on the day’s doings and happenings over the evening meal, talking face-to-face. When the school days ended with playing with neighbourhood friends at whose homes we were fed and pandered to, as they were in ours. Graduating to college where new friendships blossomed in canteens and bonded through bunked classes. College was indeed the cradle for what was later to be described as the ‘all-round development’ for which today there are Life Coaches. Not to forget a course offered at Yale University called Psychology and the Good Life which is basically about teaching college students how to be happy! A course that “teaches” that feelings of happiness are fostered through socialization, exercise, meditation and plenty of sleep!

A bigger reminder of how far away we have come from those days is the designation of an international day by the United Nations which is called the International Day of Happiness.

The idea for the International Day of Happiness was proposed by UN advisor Jayme Illien in 2011. The UN General Assembly adopted a resolution which recognised happiness as a “fundamental human goal” and called for “a more inclusive, equitable and balanced approach to economic growth that promotes the happiness and well-being of all peoples”.

In 2012 the first ever UN Conference on Happiness took place, and the UN General Assembly adopted a resolution which decreed that the International Day of Happiness would be observed every year on 20 March. The resolution was initiated by Bhutan, a country which recognized the value of national happiness over national income since the early 1970s and famously adopted the goal of Gross National Happiness over Gross National Product. All 193 United Nations member states have adopted the resolution calling for happiness to be given greater priority.

The day was celebrated for the first time in 2013. This day aims to highlight the importance of happiness and well-being as universal goals and aspirations in the lives of people around the world.

Every year, on this day, the United Nations publishes the World Happiness Report which explores the latest research on the importance of benevolence, empathy and trust as vital drivers of both individual and national happiness. It also announces the theme for the year.

The theme for the International day of Happiness 2025 is Caring and Sharing. This is a reminder that lasting happiness comes from caring for each other, feeling connected and being part of something bigger. The theme brought for me a flashback to my years of work in a workplace where this was the very theme that ran through every day of every year. I remember how this was also the name of the precious meeting space and time that the ‘girls’ called their own—one where, in addition to “theme sari days” there was an open and non-judgemental sharing of angst, anxiety, dilemmas and doubts, highs and lows, laughter and tears. This engendered a seamless blending of many generations, and the mutual caring and sharing that made our lives so rich. This was the ‘safe space’ where bonds were built; bonds that endure even when time and distance have separated us physically.

A more inclusive gender-neutral space and time was the twice a day tea-table time. Tea table became the venue for easing in the newcomers; teasing and ribbing the old-timers; there were no hierarchies and no bosses. The agenda was whatever the mood of the table—sharing, admonishing, admiring, agonising and venting, and yes, laughing a lot.

It was an important support system in so many ways. After just 15 minutes, one returned to one’s desk feeling much better. You weren’t the only one who struggled to keep going as you juggled work and home; your child’s behaviour was not as worrisome as you imagined it was; and yes, in-laws happened to the best of us! It was not only about chit-chat and food; it was where serious discussions took place—about work and work culture; about the state of the world and the nation; about books read and films seen, people met and to be met. It was where so many “aha” moments happened. Above all it was a sense of sharing and caring that permeated.

It is sad that people today are craving such time and space, and above all the comfort of sharing and caring. It is sad that we need a reminder that the world is a better place when we connect and care about the people around us.

Many years before such a reminder became necessary, Eleanor Roosevelt, wife of Franklin D. Roosevelt who was the President of the United States during the Great Depression and World War II shared these words of wisdom:

Someone once asked me what I regarded as the three most important requirements for happiness. My answer was: A feeling that you have been honest with yourself and those around you; a feeling that you have done the best you could have in your personal life and in your work; the ability to love others. Happiness is not a goal, it is a by-product. Paradoxically, the one sure way not to be happy is deliberately to map out a way of life in which one would please oneself completely and exclusively. After a short time, a very short time, there would be little that one really enjoyed. For what keeps our interest in life and makes us look forward to tomorrow is giving pleasure to other people.

–Mamata

A Kumbh Experience

February 13, 2025 ~ millennialmatriarchs ~ Leave a comment

It has dominated the news for the last month or more. It has broken records. The numbers are counted not in thousands, but in crores. It is the headline-making event of a century and a half…It is the Mahakumbh Mela.

The many records being broken may also include the media coverage which breathlessly recounts every VIP visit and holy dip that has become a “must do must show” part of every itinerary.

Over a hundred years ago, another newsmaker also visited the Kumbh. And as was his wont, wrote about the experience in his own words. This was Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi.

Gandhi had returned to India in January 1915 after spending almost a quarter century in South Africa. After spending a few days in Mumbai, he proceeded to Pune to meet Gopal Krishna Gokhale who he considered as his mentor. Gokhale advised that if Gandhi were to plan to remain in India and work for the people of this country, he first needed to acquaint himself better, first hand, with the country and its people. It was decided that this orientation would be through a journey across India by train, travelling by third class, as the common people did. Gandhi did indeed embark upon such a journey after a short visit to Calcutta, Shantiniketan and Burma.

In his own words: I, having been out of India for so long, have no business to form any definite conclusions on matters essentially Indian, and that I should pass some time here as an observer and a student. This I have promised to do, and I hope to carry out my promise.

Early in these travels Gandhi visited the Kumbh Mela at Haridwar. He recounts his experiences and impressions in his autobiography. Some excerpts:

This year – 1915 – was the year of the Kumbha fair, which is held at Hardvar once every 12 years. I was by no means eager to attend the fair, but I was anxious to meet Mahatma Munshiramji who was in his Gurukul. Gokhale’s Society had sent a big volunteer corps for service at the Kumbha. Pandit Hridayanath Kunzru was at the head, and the late Dr. Dev was the medical officer. I was invited to send the Phoenix party to assist them, and so Maganlal Gandhi had already preceded me. On my return from Rangoon, I joined the band.

Our stay in Shantiniketan had taught us that the scavenger’s work would be our special function in India. Now for the volunteers in Hardvar tents had been pitched in a dharmashala, and Dr. Dev had dug some pits to be used as latrines. He had to depend on paid scavengers for looking after these. Here was work for the Phoenix party. We offered to cover up the excreta with earth and to see to their disposal, and Dr. Dev gladly accepted our offer. The offer was naturally made by me, but it was Maganlal Gandhi who had to execute it. My business was mostly to keep sitting in the tent giving darshan and holding religious and other discussions with numerous pilgrims who called on me. This left me not a minute which I could call my own. I was followed even to the bathing ghat by these darshan-seekers, nor did they leave me alone whilst I was having my meals. Thus it was in Hardvar that I realized what a deep impression my humble services in South Africa had made throughout the whole of India.

But this was no enviable position to be in. I felt as though I was between the devil and the deep sea. Where no one recognized me, I had to put up with the hardships that fall to the lot of the millions in this land, e.g., in railway travelling. Where I was surrounded by people who had heard of me I was the victim of their craze for darshan. Which of the two conditions was more pitiable, I have often been at a loss to determine. This at least I know that the darshanvalas’ blind love has often made me angry, and more often sore at heart. Whereas travelling, though often trying, has been uplifting and has hardly ever roused me to anger.

I was in those days strong enough to roam about a lot, and was fortunately not so known as not to be able to go in the streets without creating much fuss. During these roamings I came to observe more of the pilgrims’ absent mindedness, hypocrisy and slovenliness, than of their piety. The swarm of sadhus, who had descended there, seemed to have been born to enjoy the good things of life.

The day of the fair was now upon us. It proved a red letter day for me. I had not gone to Hardvar with the sentiments of a pilgrim. I have never thought of frequenting places of pilgrimage in search of piety. But the seventeen lakhs of men that were reported to be there could not all be hypocrites or mere sight-seers. I had no doubt that countless people amongst them had gone there to earn merit and for self-purification. It is difficult, if not impossible, to say to what extent this kind of faith uplifts the soul.

I therefore passed the whole night immersed in deep thought. There were those pious souls in the midst of the hypocrisy that surrounded them. They would be free of guilt before their Maker. If the visit to Hardvar was in itself a sin, I must publicly protest against it, and leave Hardvar on the day of Kumbha. If the pilgrimage to Hardvar and to the Kumbha fair was not sinful, I must impose some act of self-denial on myself in atonement for the iniquity prevailing there and purify myself. This was quite natural for me. My life is based on disciplinary resolutions.

So I pledged myself never whilst in India to take more than five articles in twenty-four hours, and never to eat after dark. I gave the fullest thought to the difficulties I might have to face. But I wanted to leave no loophole. I rehearsed to myself what would happen during an illness, if I counted medicine among the five articles, and made no exception in favour of special articles of diet. I finally decided that there should be no exception on any account whatsoever.

But the Hardvar experiences proved for me to be of inestimable value. They helped me in no small way to decide where I was to live and what I was to do.

Just over a century later, how much has changed, and yet, how much remains the same? Food for thought!

–Mamata

Word of the Year

December 10, 2024 ~ millennialmatriarchs ~ Leave a comment

Come the end of the year, and we see various lists, rankings, selections ,’ Best of..’, ‘..of the Year’, and what have you. For me, the most interesting of these is the Word of the Year, or WOTY.

Word of the Year is what is considered the most important word(s) or expression(s) in the public sphere during a specific year. It is supposed to capture the zeitgeist of the year gone by. There is no THE Word of the Year. There are several Words of the Year, assessed and declared by several bodies—dictionaries, learned societies, etc.

The tradition started in German when the first Wort des Jahres was selected in 1971. The word was aufmüpfig, meaning rebellious or insubordinate.

The first English WOTY was declared by the American Dialect Society’s in 1990, and was bushlips, meaning insincere political rhetoric (from Bush’s ‘read my lips’ comment). The American Dialect Society (ADS) is a learned society, not connected to any commercial interest, and their WOTY is picked by vote of independent linguists, though anyone can nominate a word at any time of the year. As appropirate for a seriously academic institution, ADS really gets into the issue, defining several categories apart from overall WOTY, including: Most useful/Most Likely to Succeed WOTY; Political WOTY; Digital WOTY; Informal WOTY; Acronym/Initialism of the Year; AI-related WOTY; Most Creative WOTY; and Euphemism of the Year. While all other organizations declare WOTYs at the end of the given year, ADS comes out with it’s in the beginning of the next year.

As we have seen from the newspapers, several other organizations also pick their own WOTYs, using different methodologies. Here is a look at some of the popular ones and how they are selected:

Oxford WOTY

‘The candidates for the Word of the Year are drawn from evidence gathered by our extensive language research program, including the Oxford Corpus, which gathers around 150 million words of current English from web-based publications each month. Sophisticated software allows our expert lexicographers to identify new and emerging words and examine the shifts in how more established words are being used.

Dictionary editors also flag notable words for consideration throughout the year and use other sources of data to identify contenders.

We regularly take into account the many suggestions sent to us via social media.

The final Word of the Year selection is made by the Oxford Languages team on the basis of all the information available to us.’ (https://corp.oup.com/word-of-the-year/)

Cambridge WOTY

Dictionary editors also flag notable words for consideration throughout the year and use other sources of data to identify contenders.

We regularly take into account the many suggestions sent to us via social media.

The final Word of the Year selection is made by the Oxford Languages team on the basis of all the information available to us.’ (https://dictionary.cambridge.org/editorial/word-of-the-year)

Dictionary.com

‘Dictionary.com’s Word of the Year and short-listed nominees capture pivotal moments in language and culture. These words serve as a linguistic time capsule, reflecting social trends and global events that defined the year. The Word of the Year isn’t just about popular usage; it reveals the stories we tell about ourselves and how we’ve changed over the year. And for these reasons, Dictionary.com’s 2024 Word of the Year is demure.’ (https://www.dictionary.com/e/word-of-the-year)

Merriam-Webster WOTY

‘When the Word of the Year was started in 2003, Merriam-Webster determined which words would appear on the list by analyzing page hits and popular searches to its website. For example, the 2003 and 2004 lists were determined by online hits to the Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary and Online Thesaurus and to Merriam-WebsterCollegiate.com.

In 2006 and 2007, Merriam-Webster changed this practice, and the list was determined by an online poll among words that were suggested by visitors to the site. Visitors were requested to vote for one entry out of a list of twenty words and phrases. The list consisted of the words and phrases that were frequently looked up on the site and those that were submitted by many readers.

From 2008 onwards, however, user submissions have not been a deciding factor, and the list has been composed only of the words which were looked up most frequently that year. Merriam-Webster said that the reason for the change was that otherwise ordinary words were receiving so many hits that their significance could not be ignored.’ (https://www.merriam-webster.com/wordplay/word-of-the-year)

The Oxford WOTY 2024 is brain rot, which is ‘any Internet content deemed to be of low quality or value, or the supposed negative psychological and cognitive effects caused by it’.

The Cambridge WOTY for the year is manifest, meaning ‘to speak your dreams into existence. It’s also associated with the practice of visualizing goals to achieve them’.

And stop press! Merriam-Webster has just declared polarization as its WOTY. While polarization means division into two sharply contrasting group, Merriam-Webster’s editor at large clarified further that in the context of their choice. “Polarization means that we are tending toward the extremes rather than toward the center.”

If only we could ‘manifest’ ‘brain rot’ and ‘polarization’ away, wouldn’t that make for a great 2025!

–Meena

Walking Stick: Symbol of Status, Symbol of Renunciation

November 26, 2024 ~ millennialmatriarchs ~ Leave a comment

The walking stick may be one of the most ancient tools ever invented (or should we say ‘discovered’??!!). I can imagine my ancient-ancestress in Africa, 300,000 years ago, stopping to cut a branch and smoothen it, to help her trek and clamber over hills and rocks.

Walking sticks obviously began as mobility aids, in that they help with balance and mobility issues; reduce the risk of falling; help those recovering from injuries and those who experience pain in their hips or knees. But of course, they were also used for self-defence. Having a two-in-one is always great–my ancient grandmother would have used hers to shoo away wolves or hyenas.

What began as a very functional item would soon have become a thing of beauty and pride– my ancestress-grandmother may have spent the evenings chipping at her stick and carving wonderful designs on it.

Down the ages, these sticks became a symbol of power, authority and status. Ancient images show kings, religious leaders and authority figures holding them.

But walking sticks really came into their own in the 17^th and 18^th centuries, when they became an essential part of the wardrobe of fashionable men in Europe. The cult is thought to have started with Louis XIV. This royal king was conscious of his height—he was 5’4”, and so used heels (red and high). And to help him balance, he used a walking stick. Heels and walking sticks became the rage in the French court, and then spread to the rest of Europe and to England. They became prized possessions and an oft-exchanged gift between kings and courts.

And of course, befitting the importance given to these objects, they began to be made of precious material and extravagantly decorated. The knobs or handles were carved individually, made of gold, silver, ivory, tortoise shell, or painted porcelain, and studded with precious stones or inlaid with mother of pearl. Shapes ranged from lions to dogs to rams to fantastical creatures. Louis XIV had a stick whose eagle knob was set with twenty-four diamonds!

And no one who could afford it was content to have just one. Voltaire, the French philosopher-writer owned eighty sticks, though he considered himself a man who did not follow fashion. Count Brühl of Dresden, owned three hundred canes to match his three hundred suits, and had a snuff-box to match each cane! Queen Victoria had a room full of canes, gifted to her from across the world, though she used only one–one of great historic value which had been presented to King Charles II. The head was made of “An idol which graced the temple of an ill-fated Indian prince… an exquisitely wrought affair in ivory… The eyes and forehead are jewelled and on the tongue is the rarest of rubies.”

But if walking sticks were a symbol of worldly power, they were also the symbol of spirituality. They were among the few possessions of monks–Hindu, Jain and Buddhist. A staff is part of our image of Swami Vivekananda. And of course Gandhiji! It was with the help of his lathi that Gandhi strode across the country, and walked 241 miles in 24 days to protest the British monopoly on salt in India.

There is a very interesting story about Gandhiji and his lathi. In the 1920s and 30s, Ghorghat village in Bihar made and supplied lathis all across north India, and these were essentially used by the British forces on protesting unarmed Indians. When Gandhiji visited Ghorghat in 1934, the villagers wanted to gift him a lathi. He agreed but put a condition—that they would not sell them to the British anymore. It is a symbol of those times and of Gandhiji’s influence that the villagers readily agreed to give up a means of their livelihood. Gandhi accepted their gift. Ever since, the village celebrates ‘lathi mahotsav’ to commemorate the gifting of a lathi to the Mahatma.

Walking sticks started losing their image as a fashion-accessory around the middle of the last century, but great are the advancements of walking sticks as mobility aids. So now it is about function and not art!

Well, we, especially men, may have lost a fashion accessory. But with better and more functional walking sticks on the market, senior-life is surely better!

–Meena

I am a Little Teapot..

October 8, 2024 ~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 1 Comment

I suppose in today’s world, children don’t often see teapots. Fortunately, the poem ‘I am a teapot’, one of the cutest action-songs, is still a part of the pre-school repertoire. As the poem tells us, typically teapots have an opening with a lid on top, through which the dry tea and hot water are added; a handle for holding the vessel: and a spout through which the tea is served. And there may be a small air hole in the lid, though the poem does not mention it.

A teapot is basically a vessel used for steeping tea leaves in boiling or very hot water, and then serving the resulting brew.

Assassin Teapot: Essential Kitsch from China!

The teapot has a hoary history. It originated in China—of course! The first recorded one goes back to the end of the Sung dynasty (1271-1368). These were Yixing teapots which were red or purple-colored earthen vessels. These containers made in the city of Yixing are still produced today and still very popular and are considered the epitome of teapots.

The idea of the teapot spread to Europe after the East India Company introduced tea and teapots in the late 17^th century. In the early 18^th century, the Company used to commission Chinese artisans to make teapots as the quality of porcelain in China was better there than in Europe. But slowly Germany and then France got into the game, and started perfecting the art and science. In the mid-1800s, an English pharmacist William Cookworthy, after several experiments, finally hit upon a way to make porcelain similar to that made in China and set up a factory in Plymouth. And from then on, English and tea and teapots became synonymous!

Many and fantastical are the shapes, sizes and colours in which teapots have been crafted down the centuries. It is a thing of beauty and elegance.

And it is this that the annual Sydney Teapot Show has been showcasing for over 30 years. This is an exhibition and competition where participants take up the challenge of making a unique teapot. Each year, there are specific themes, and this year’s categories are Australian Poets, Toy Story and The Natural World. There are also prizes for Best Pourer and Supreme Teapot – Best in Show. The Show celebrates craftsmanship at its best. As the organizers point out: ‘The skill of the clayworkers is employed in making a teapot – one of the more difficult tasks in ceramics – and their imagination and creativity is also evident in their response to the categories suggested’. The show started on 3 October, and is on for a month. Anyone lucky enough to be down under on these dates can catch the show.

Australia seems to particularly treasure teapots. The Bygone Beauties Museum there has over 5500 pieces! But it is not just in Australia that teapots are celebrated. The Victoria and Albert Museum has a good collection. The National Museum of Asian Art at the Smithsonian has some special beauties.

There are also several private collectors and collections. Sonny and Gloria Kamm of Los Angeles have been collecting teapots for over 35 years, and have about 17,000 pieces. Sue and Keith Blazye have 8,450 teapots in their home in Kent, plus around another thousand duplicates in the loft,.

Of special interest is the Chitra Collection. It is private museum of historic teawares. As the site explains, ‘In 2011 Nirmal Sethia, the Chairman of the luxury tea company, Newby Teas, set himself the task of acquiring the world’s greatest collection of teawares to record and preserve tea cultures of the past. Today, the collection, named in honour of his late wife, Chitra, totals almost 2000 objects and is already the world’s finest and most comprehensive of its kind.’ So if you are not able to make it to Sydney, check out https://chitracollection.com/collection/ for a teapot-treat!

As the weather turns balmy, it’s the perfect time to bring out your teapot and sip a refreshing cup, while reflecting on these teapot-related pieces of wisdom!

‘Disciples and devotees…what are most of them doing? Worshipping the teapot instead of drinking the tea!’ Wei Wu Wei (Theatre producer and philosopher)

‘A great idea should always be left to steep like loose tea leaves in a teapot for a while to make sure that the tea will be strong enough and that the idea truly is a great one.’ Phoebe Stone (Author and artist).

–Meena

Double Dutch

April 2, 2024 ~ millennialmatriarchs ~ Leave a comment

Dutch tears—that is an intriguing term I came across recently. At first I thought it was an idiom, like Dutch courage or Dutch comfort. But turns out Dutch tears are a real physical thing–toughened glass beads created by dripping molten glass into cold water! When glass is dripped into water, it solidifies into tadpole-shaped drops with thin, long tails. These were first produced in the Netherlands in the early 17^th century. These tadpoles exhibit unusual characteristics—the bulbous part of the drop can withstand being hit by a hammer without breaking, but even a small pressure of the fingers to the tail-end will dramatically shatter the whole drop.

These very contrary properties led to a great amount of scientific curiosity and they were the subject of much research in the 1700s and 1800s. But it was not till recently that the mystery was solved. One breakthrough came in 1994, when Prof. S. Chandrasekar of Purdue University and Prof. M. M. Chaudhri of University of Cambridge used high-speed framing photography to observe the drop-shattering process and concluded that the surface of each drop experiences highly compressive stresses, while the interior experiences high tension forces. So the drop is in a state of unstable equilibrium, which can be easily disturbed by breaking the tail. But the complete explanation came in 2017 when these scientists collaborated with Prof. Hillar Aben, of Tallinn University of Technology in Estonia and found that heads of the drops have a much higher surface compressive stress than previously thought—nearly 7,000 times atmospheric pressure. This gives the droplet-heads a very high fracture strength. (For a proper understanding of the science, please go to https://phys.org/news/2017-05-scientists-year-old-mystery-prince-rupert.html, rather than depending on my précis from there! Photocredit also to this page.)

But to get back to my original thought process: When I had tried to think of possible meanings of Dutch tears , so many idioms featuring the Dutch came to mind. We are very familiar with some:

When someone speaks very fast or unintelligibly, we say they are speaking Double Dutch–in other words, nonsense.

When one takes a shot of alcohol to boost up one’s courage before doing something one is afraid to do, it is called Dutch courage.

And of course, the Dutch treat, where each one finds they have to pay for whatever they consume.

And if you talk to someone like a Dutch uncle, you are giving them stern and serious talking-to.

And here is a small sample out of a range of many lesser-used ones:

Dutch agreement, where the parties making the agreement are drunk. And the related Dutch bargain—a bargain settled when the parties are intoxicated.

A Dutch headache is a hangover. And a Dutch concert is a very noisy situation, as would be made by a lot of drunken Dutchmen.

Dutch comfort is comfort which comes from the feeling that things could have been much worse.

Dutch reckoning is a very high bill that’s neither itemised nor detailed, and hence a bit of a con.

Dutch gold is a yellow-coloured alloy of copper and zinc from which imitation gold leaf is made.

HR persons should not go looking for Dutch talent, which is more brawn than brain. And they should be wary of employees who take Dutch leave, i.e., leave without permission.

Readers would have noticed that most of these idioms show the Dutch in a bad light. And apparently, there is good reason for this. Most of these came into being about 1665 and later, when the Netherlands and England were vying with each other both on land (England won a Dutch colony what is currently New York), and on sea for the control of trade routes. During the 17^th century, the Netherlands and Britain waged three wars against each other over 20 years. The deep-seated animosity must have spilt over to language, and given the number of such idioms, the English must have vied with each other to come with nasty expressions about the enemy. (While this explanation seems logical, there don’t seem to be such expressions which feature the Spanish. And England and Spain were enemies and rivals for a good long time too. Maybe there is a Ph.D. thesis for someone here!).

Fortunately, many of these mean-idioms are falling out of use. And we have the rise of the Dutch oven—the most sought after cooking device; and of Dutch auctions–a type of open auction where the price starts high and decreases until the first bidder accepts it—which are seen as fast and efficient, as they end as soon as the first bid is made.

Here’s to many more Dutch-positives!

–Meena

The Healing Touch

March 28, 2024 ~ millennialmatriarchs ~ Leave a comment

Almost all of us have been, at one time or another, a patient or the caregiver to a patient. And perhaps one of the enduring memories (good or bad) of that experience may be that of the doctor who treated. From the days of Hippocrates, known as the Father of Medicine, the ‘doctor’ is one of the key actors in the story of life and death.

There was a time, not all that long ago, when the “family doctor” was the first and last word in attending to every member of the family, from babies to the elders. Most of these are still remembered, not so much for their specialized skills, as for their comforting presence and availability, and their personal engagement with the patient. In most cases, the patient was known to the doctor from childhood onwards. Thus the diagnosis and treatment was closely linked not just to the physical, but also to the psychological aspects. Often it was ‘much less about specific diagnosis than it was about knowing the person in front of you and the illness they have, and sometimes the outcome depended much less on the nature of the illness than on the nature of the patient.’

Over time, with advances in the science of medicine, and the new developments in technology that enables more accuracy and depth of diagnostic tests, the medical profession started becoming more and more dependent on these tools. So much so, that in recent times, the first visit to the doctor results in returning with a list of “tests”, based on the results of which, the doctor would begin, at the next visit, to even “look at” the patient, let alone proceed further in diagnosis and treatment. No doubt these advances have led to a deeper understanding of disease and medical conditions, and have hugely benefitted their treatment. But such advances have made modern medicine so high-tech, research-oriented, data-driven and time-crunched, that somewhere along the way, this has led to the ebbing of the “human touch”, as it were, in the relationship between doctor and patient.

There is however, a section of the medical profession which is promoting the revival of the practice of this ‘human touch’. They believe that physical examination is a key to developing trust between patient and physician. Dr Abraham Verghese is a passionate and leading advocate of this school of thought.

Dr Abraham Verghese is perhaps better known as an author. He became known for his book Cutting for Stone, and his recent book The Covenant of Water has been acclaimed. What is perhaps less widely known is that Dr Verghese is a practicing physician and teacher of medicine, who strongly endorses as well as practices what he calls ‘the ritual of the physical exam’ as the most important aspect of developing trust between patient and physician. He believes that the physical exam is a humanistic ritual that builds trust and creates the crucial bond between physician and patient—a bond that is at the core of quality health care

Abraham Verghese started his medical education in Ethiopia and completed it in India at the Madras Medical College, both places which followed the British system of medical education that put great emphasis on learning to read the body as a text. In an interview he recalled that he had the most wonderful teachers who were incredibly skilled at reading the body as a text. He feel that this is a dying art today. We are getting so enamoured with the data and the images, the CAT scan and the MRI. But sometimes we can lose sight of the human being. …When what patients really need is something simpler and they need to be listened to, they need to be cared for.

Even as he follows this practice as a sacred ritual, Dr Verghese has been working to institutionalize this in the United States where he has worked for several decades. He founded the Center for Medical Humanities and Ethics at the University of Texas, San Antonio where the motto was ‘Imagining the Patient’s Experience’. He is now a professor for the Theory and Practice of Medicine at Stanford, where his old-fashioned weekly rounds have inspired a new initiative, the Stanford 25, teaching 25 fundamental physical exam skills and their diagnostic benefits to interns. Verghese feels that doctors spend an astonishing among of time in front of the monitor charting in the electronic medical record, moving patients through the system, examining tests results. In short, bedside skills have plummeted in inverse proportion to the available technology.

The objective of this initiative is to emphasize and improve bedside examination skills in students and residents in internal medicine, and advocating for a similar national effort at all medical schools. Verghese himself teaches students at patients’ bedsides instead of around a table. As he says: I still find the best way to understand a hospitalized patient is not by staring at the computer screen but by going to see the patient; it’s only at the bedside that I can figure out what is important. A part of you has to be objective and yet you have to sort of try to imagine what the patient is going through.

This approach has sparked a movement of Bedside Medicine which believes that the bedside encounter between a patient and physician is central to the practice of medicine. There is also The Society of Bedside Medicine, a mission-based global community of clinician educators dedicated to bedside teaching and improving physical examination and diagnostic skills. Its purpose is to foster a culture of Bedside Medicine through deliberate practice and teaching to encourage innovation in education and research on the role of the clinical encounter in 21^st-century medicine.

For many of us who wish for the return to the ‘family doctor’ in an age when this is almost an extinct species, the Bedside Medicine movement spells a ray of hope. This week is celebrated in America as National Physicians Week. In India also we mark Doctor’s Day on 1 July. While this day is marked by thanking doctors, it may also be a good time for physicians to remind themselves of the sacred bonds between the patient and the healer. In the words of Dr. Verghese At its very nature, the experience of medicine, the experience of being a patient, is very much a human experience—patients require the best of our science, but they don’t stop requiring the Samaritan function.

–Mamata

On A Musical Note: Of Earworms and Mondegreens

February 6, 2024February 7, 2024 ~ millennialmatriarchs ~ Leave a comment

Who hasn’t, at some time or the other, had a song or piece of music stuck in their heads, which just won’t go away! You get up in the morning, and suddenly you find yourself humming a tune. It follows you around the house, to the office, on the drive back home. It serenades you inside your head through dinner. And sometimes it is still there when you wake up in the morning!

This is what is called an earworm. Extremely irritating, but nothing to worry about. It happens to most of us at some time in life. A recent study of American college students found that 97% had experienced an earworm in the past month. Other studies have found similar results.

And don’t worry how long an earworm troubles you. Though the typical length is 10 to 30 minutes, research shows that for about 20% folks, the earworm lasts an hour or more. And some unlucky folks have been stuck with one for a year or even longer!

The term earworm comes from the German “ohrwurm,” which is defined as a “cognitive itch” or “the inability to dislodge a song and prevent it from repeating itself in one’s head”. Several terms have been coined for this, including stuck song syndrome, sticky music, musical imagery repetition, intrusive musical imagery etc. The semi-official term is ‘involuntary musical imagery’, or INMI.

It has been a serious area of study since 1885, and scientists hope to get insights into the functioning of the brain. Several major universities have been undertaking studies into the phenomenon.

Sufferers try various ways to get rid of an earworm– by thinking of another song, singing the earworm song all the way through to its end, or taking up other tasks that require focussed concentration. But trying to get rid of an earworm may be counter-productive. One study has found that the harder people fight to quiet an earworm, the longer it tends to harass them!

Something that is not irritating to you, but may be to others if you sing, is a mondegreen. A mondegreen is a word or phrase in a song or poem that you get wrong–the result of mishearing something recited or sung. Incorrectly heard lyrics are called mondegreens.

The origin of the word itself is from an instance of such mishearing. In a column by journalist Sylvia Wright in the 1950s, she wrote about a Scottish folksong The Bonny Earl of Morray that she had listened to. Wright misheard the lyric “Oh, they have slain the Earl o’ Morray and laid him on the green” as “Oh, they have slain the Earl o’ Morray and Lady Mondegreen.” And ever since, such mishearings have been referred to as mondegreens!

The scientific explanation goes as follows: Hearing is a two-step process. First sound waves make their way through the ear and into the auditory cortex of the brain. On receiving the signal, the brain tries to make sense of the noise. Mondegreens occur when, somewhere between the sound and the sense-making, communication breaks down. You hear the same sound as another person, but your brain doesn’t interpret it the same way.

Sometimes we may just mishear something because it is noisy, the phone signal is weak, or there are other extraneous factors. Or it may be because the speaker is speaking in an unfamiliar accent or is mumbling. So the sound becomes ambiguous and our brain tries its best to resolve the ambiguity—and gets it wrong.

Another common cause of mondegreens is the oronym–word strings in which the sounds can be logically divided in different ways. This is similar to what we call sandhi vichhed in Sanskrit—the process of analysing and separating compound words into their component parts. Oronyms result in a wrong parsing of sounds when context or prior knowledge is missing.

Yet another reason could be letters and letter combinations which sound alike, and without a context, we can go wrong, and one sound can be mistaken for the other. An example often given to illustrate this is, :“There’s a bathroom on the right” being heard as “there’s a bad moon on the rise”.

When we hear a sound, a number of related words are activated all at once in our heads. These words could be those that sound the same, or have component parts that are the same. Our brain then chooses the one that makes the most sense. In this choosing, we are more likely to select a word or phrase that we’re more familiar with. An oft cited example is that if you’re a member of a boat crew, you’re far more likely to select “row” instead of “roe” from an ambiguous sentence. If you’re a chef, the opposite is likely.

Some mondegreens become the word! For instance, the word orange was such a widespread mispronunciation of “a naranj” (from Persian and Sanskrit), that it became the official name of the fruit! One can think of any number of place-names which the English mangled, for instance!

Bollywood songs of course have their share of mondegreens. Though not systematically documented, some common ones identified include:

From the song Hawa Hawai (Mr. India): ‘Bijli girane mai hoon aayi’ being heard as ‘Bijli ki rani mai hoon aayi’; and from the song Banno (Tanu weds Mannu) ‘Banno tera swagger laage sexy’ being heard as ‘Banno tera sweater laage sexy’.

Raghu has these examples from his childhood (which he attributes to the poor sound quality of radio transmissions of those times):

Hearing ‘Yeh manzar dekh kar jaana’ (from the film Around the World) as ‘Yeh mandir dekh ke kar jaana’ (could be a jingle for a recent event!); and ‘Ahsan tera hoga mujh par’ (from the film Junglee) as ‘Ahsan tera ho gaa mujh par’!

The only request: If you have a mondegreen, don’t sing the song aloud. You may give someone a more than usually horrible earworm!

–Meena