Celebrating the Sun

We have just crossed the Summer Solstice on 21 June. This is a major celestial event which results in the longest day and shortest night of the year in the Northern hemisphere. The word solstice is a combination of the Latin words ‘sol’ meaning sun and ‘stice’ meaning standstill. As the days lengthen, the sun rises higher and higher, till the movement of the Sun’s path north or south appears to stop in the sky before changing direction.

The summer solstice occurs when the tilt of Earth’s axis is most inclined towards the sun and is directly above the Tropic of Cancer. It officially marks the beginning of astronomical summer, which lasts until the autumn equinox falls on 23 September, when day and night will be of almost equal length.

In most parts of the Northern hemisphere winter is long, dark, cold, and harsh. Nature seems to slow down; the ground id frozen and often snow-covered for months, and many plants and animals go into hibernation mode. The spring season marks a slow awakening, with life starting to stir again. It is only around the middle of June that “summer” really sets in. In the days of yore, when people’s lives, especially agriculture, were closely linked with the cycles of nature, this ‘return of the sun’ was a time to celebrate the passing of the months of suffering and hardship, and the appreciation for the sun that would bring harvests.

Summer Solstice is one of the most ancient of human festivals. For the early societies the longest day had both practical and religious significance. It was a fixed point around which the planting and harvesting of crops could be planned, but also marked the spiritual side of the shifting of the seasons.

Many traditions are linked to this celebration, especially in different parts of Europe. In Ireland celebrations date back over 5000 years. In ancient times, people all over the northern hemisphere would celebrate this time with games, stories and feasting, and lighting of bonfires. Since time began, fire has been regarded as a symbol of the sun and so large fires were lit on this occasion

In ancient Greece, the summer solstice festival of Kronia to honour the god Cronius, the patron of agriculture. It was a day when class distinctions were abandoned and masters and slaves celebrated side-by-side. A tradition still followed by some is to trek up to the peak of Mt Olympus on this day.

In ancient Rome, the festival of Vestalia celebrated Vesta the goddess of hearth and home and family on this day. During the week of Vestalia, only women were permitted to enter the Vestal temple, and a cake was baked using consecrated waters from a spring considered sacred. Even today Italians celebrate the solstice as a time of new beginnings. La Festa di San Giovanni is a festival observed with similar rites of water and fire as the ones performed in ancient times.

Many Native American tribes celebrated the longest day of the year with a Sun Dance, while the Mayas and Aztecs used the day as a marker by which to build many of their central structures, so that the buildings would align perfectly with the shadows of the two solstices, summer and winter.

In Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula, the main pyramid at Chichén Itzá, known as the Temple of Kukulcan, is constructed in such a way that during the Summer Solstice the sun casts perfect shadows on the south and west sides so that it looks to be split in two.

Better known are the Neolithic structures at Stonehenge in England. There is still a mystery about who constructed these and for what purpose. One theory is that it was built to worship deities of the Earth and the sun. Stonehenge was ingeniously designed built to align with the sun on the solstices. On the summer solstice, as the sun rises behind the heel stone, the ancient entrance to the stone circle, the ascending rays of sunlight align perfectly with a circle carved in stone in the centre of the monument. Even today thousands throng Stonehenge on summer solstice to witness this breath-taking sight and join in the celebrations that include dance and music.

While June signals the start of summer in many parts of the Northern hemisphere, in a country like India, this is the peak of summer. In a large part of the subcontinent, the sun blazes and the earth is parched; in some parts it heralds the onset of the monsoon rains that will gradually move northwards, quenching the thirst of the soil and its inhabitants. While we celebrate the change of seasons with many different festivals, we do not traditionally celebrate summer solstice as a festival

However, in the last few years India had taken the lead in adding a new day of celebration on 21 June. This is International Day of Yoga Day to coincide with the summer solstice. The day was proclaimed by the United Nations General Assembly in 2014, in recognition of the universal appeal of Yoga, owing to its demonstrated benefits towards immunity building and stress relief.

While yoga is a philosophy and science in itself, one aspect that struck me in the context of the summer solstice and the celebration of the sun, is the importance of Surya Namaskar or Sun Salutation in yoga. This is a set of a sequence of 12 yoga poses which provide a complete workout which has a positive impact on the body and the mind.

There are 12 mantras that accompany the surya namaskar postures, which praise the different qualities of the Sun God or Surya. These are:

Praise to the One:

Who is the friend of all

Who shines brightly and is filled with radiance

Who eliminated darkness and brings in light

Who is filled with brilliance and lustre

Who traverses the entire sky and is all-pervasive

Who provides nourishment and fulfils desires

The one with a golden-hued lustre

The one who shines with the light of innumerable rays

The one who is the son of the divine cosmic mother Aditi

The one who gives life

The one who is worthy of all glory

The one who is wise and illuminates the heavenly world.

While it is marked in different ways, and has different cultural contexts, Summer solstice is a reminder of the how vital the sun is for all life.

–Mamata

A Millets Tale

Once upon a time, in a forest far away there lived a young girl. The girl had lost her parents when she was just a baby, and she had no other family that she knew of. She continued to stay by herself, and grow up in the forest, the place that she knew as home.  But she had many friends in the forest. She knew all the trees and plants, and they gave her their fruit, seeds, and flowers, different ones in different seasons. She knew all the birds and animals that lived there, and could recognize them by their calls and pugmarks. She knew the springs where cool fresh water flowed, where she could wash, and bathe and drink from. And she also knew that by planting some seeds in the earth, before the rains, would lead to a small crop of plants that she could eat, some for their leaves, some for their roots, and some for the seeds as they ripened. The seeds were of many kinds, some tiny, some larger, and of many colours—pearly white, greenish grey, reddish brown, and many shades of yellow.

The girl in the forest grew up to be strong and healthy young woman. She also grew into a beautiful and graceful maiden. One day as she was walking through the forest, humming a tune, she heard an unusual sound. It was the sound of hoof beats. Most animals in the forest walked and ran on nimble feet, making hardly a sound as their feet touched the ground. This clip clop sound was not one that she had heard before. As the sound grew closer, the girl hid herself behind a tree and peeped cautiously and curiously. From the thicket there emerged a horse, and on the horse rode a handsome young man. The girl had never seen such a sight before. She could not resist stepping away from her hiding place to get a better look.

The rider was a young prince on his way back to his kingdom. He too had never seen such a beautiful maiden before. It was love at first sight! The prince got off from his horse and stood before the lovely lady who was looking at him with undisguised curiosity. She was so different from all the ladies that he met, ladies who acted coy, who dressed in expensive silks and velvets, and were adorned from head to foot in shining jewels. After all he was a prince, the king-to-be, and every maiden in the kingdom dreamed that she would capture his heart and, someday, become the queen.  

This young woman was clad in the simplest of garments, but her skin and hair shone like silk, her face exuded a glow that came from within, and her limbs were lithe and strong. She stood erect and fearless before the young man, innocent but self-assured.

The prince was sure that this was the woman who would be his wife. He spoke gently to the maiden, but put forth his proposal. The young girl was also taken with the young man. She had no idea about kingdoms and kings and princes, and no dream or desire to live in a palace and be a queen. She liked the young man for what he was. And she was of an age when she felt that she was ready for adventure. She said yes!

The prince and the maiden returned to the palace, and were wed. With time the bride settled into her new life and role. She learned to wear the finery, and the manners of royalty. But she could not easily relish the meals that were served. Every meal was like a feast. There were many kinds of bread made from the finest refined flours, numerous dishes rich with oil, butter and spices, and the widest array of sweetmeats laden with sugar and ghee. These were prepared by the finest chefs in the land. The new bride had never, in her simple life in the forest eaten such heavy food. Her body could not digest the extravagance of seasonings and ingredients.

After some time the young woman found that she her body was changing. She felt lethargic; without the energy that she once had to walk long distances, climb trees, work with the soil—digging, planting, tending, harvesting. Her once sinewy limbs were no longer as strong as they once were, and she was becoming plump like the doves that cooed in the courtyard. Her taste buds were satiated; they no longer relished the overpowering deluge of flavours.

One day the young royal sneaked out of the palace in disguise. She went to the local market. As she walked around she saw the heaps of fresh vegetables and fruits and pictured these as she had once seen them, hanging from the branches, and growing from the soil. She came to a grain merchant’s shop and there she spotted the familiar seeds and grains that had sustained her in her days of living in the forest. She realized that these were what her body had been craving. She got these different seeds packed and returned, still incognito, to the palace.

Back in her luxurious surroundings, the queen-to-be got some of these seeds roasted and started having them for breakfast. The kitchen staff was taken aback. These were what poor people ate. How can a rich and royal personage want to eat such humble cereals? But their duty was to do as they were instructed.

 One day her husband found her eating her breakfast of multi-coloured seeds and wanted to know what they were, and why she was eating them. She said that for her these were as precious as pearls, because these are what had sustained her in her childhood and youth. It is these staples that had given her the nutrients and energy that she needed to stay healthy and active. She requested that henceforth, these seeds should become a part of the royal menus. As a royal prerogative she gave these “poor man’s” seeds their names.

The ‘pearls’ were called Bajra, Jowar and Cheena. The ones that were in different shades of yellow, green-grey, red-brown, that reminded her of the colours of the forest were named Kangani and Kakun, Kodo and Proso, Ragi and Kutki, Kuttu and Rajgira.

And so it came about that these poor man’s seeds became a part of the royal kitchen and diet. The queen-in-making devised new recipes and dishes where these could be tastily used, and the chefs added their own touches to these. The ‘pearls’ proved their value. The palace residents began to feel lighter, healthier and stronger.

Time passed. The young bride became the queen, and in time, she and the king also passed on. As with the cycle of change, there were later generations that went back to the rich cuisines that once signified wealth and status. With that came also the effects on people’s health and well-being.

 Until one day a newly-married princess discovered, among the dusty tomes in the palace library, a book of recipes of the ‘pearl seeds’.

We have come full circle again.

Celebrating Millets!

–Mamata

Planet Ocean Explorer: Jacques Cousteau

8 June is celebrated as World Oceans Day. Oceans cover the majority of the earth. In fact, it has often been said that our home should be called Planet Ocean rather than Planet Earth. But compared to terrestrial ecosystems, oceans are still less studied and understood. Scientists are continuing to explore and discover unimagined treasures in the marine world.

One man who understood before others did, how critical our Water Planet is to our survival and who dedicated his life to learning what lay deep in the marine waters, and opened up these hidden treasures for the world, was Jacques Cousteau.

Jacques-Yves Cousteau was born on June 11, 1910 near Bordeaux, in France. He learned to swim when he was just four. When he was 10 his family moved to New York for two years. It was at a summer camp that Jacques first learned how to go diving and snorkelling. He continued to snorkel after the family moved back to the Mediterranean city of Marseilles in France.

In 1930, at the of age 20, Jacques Cousteau passed the tough exams for the French Naval Academy where he trained for two years before spending a year at sea. In 1933, he was commissioned as a second lieutenant and spent most of the next two years sailing the world’s seas. In 1935, Cousteau started training to become a naval aircraft pilot. He had almost completed his training when, in 1936, he was involved in a near-fatal car crash. His right side was paralyzed and he had multiple fractures in his arms. This ended his dream of a career in flying. Cousteau underwent months of physical therapy, and spent a lot of time swimming in order to strengthen his fractured arms. He was not satisfied with skimming the surface of the water, he was curious to know what lay deep below. He started diving deeper with a pair of improvised swimming goggles and was amazed to discover the beauty of the sea-floor. He decided that he would make diving his life’s work. He also re-joined the navy as a naval gunnery instructor.

As he attempted deeper dives, Cousteau was frustrated about the limited amount of time that he could remain submerged. The only equipment available for divers then was the Self-contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus (SCUBA) that had been invented in 1926.  In 1943, Cousteau met Emil Gagnan a French engineer and together they experimented to develop a device which had compressed air cylinders that would enable divers to remain underwater for a longer time. Thus the diving regulator or aqualung was born, co-invented and patented by Gagnan and Cousteau. Cousteau immediately incorporated the new device into SCUBA apparatus. It gave him exactly what he needed. He could dive freely and stay under longer without the previous cumbersome equipment.

After the war ended, Cousteau began underwater research for the French Navy. In addition to this he also used the new equipment for underwater archaeology work to study the wreck of sunken ships.

In 1951, Cousteau took scientific leave from the Navy and began his own sea expeditions. Cousteau shared his plans to make undersea film documentaries with wealthy British philanthropist Thomas Loel Guinness. Guinness bought an old car ferry and leased it to Cousteau for a token 1 franc a year. Cousteau named the ship Calypso. Cousteau and Calypso would, not too far in the future, become popular names for TV audiences all over the world. But before the ship could become functional, it needed equipment and crew. Cousteau begged for government grants and pleaded with manufacturers for free equipment.

To raise more money, Cousteau and Frédéric Dumas co-authored a book The Silent World, about their pioneering adventures in SCUBA diving. Published in 1953 the book was an instant hit, and has continued to sell; to date it has sold over 5 million copies. In 1956, Cousteau released his first colour movie documentary, also called The Silent World. This was the first time that common people had a peep into a hitherto unimagined underwater world. Today we have access to incredible footage of the marine environment through numerous channels, and with the help of highly sophisticated technology. Cousteau’s film was the first to bring glimpses of this world onto TV screens. The film won the Academy Award for Best Documentary in 1957.

Cousteau’s film inspired a lot of people to take up deep sea diving and explore the ocean depths. This also led to a rise in the demand for SCUBA equipment, especially the aqualung.

Cousteau officially retired from the French Navy in 1956 with the rank of Captain. He continued to make underwater documentaries, exploring different facets of the marine environment. His films, and his pioneering work, won many awards. Jacques Cousteau became a familiar name for TV audiences in the 1960s and 1970s.

His work also created a new kind of scientific communication. The simple way of sharing scientific concepts, which characterized his books and films, was soon employed in other disciplines and became one of the most important characteristics of modern TV broadcasting.

Cousteau was more than an inventor, explorer and documenter of the oceans. He inspired generations of marine biologists, teachers, explorers, divers and others for whom the oceans became a personal and professional passion. He was also an activist, and advocate for respectful protection and conservation of the ocean and its resources. In 1973, along with his two sons and Frederick Hyman he created the Cousteau Society for the Protection of Ocean Life. The Cousteau Society continues its mission of exploring the seas, establishing protected areas for endangered species and advocating for the silent world which cannot advocate for itself.

Cousteau believed that people protect what they love. And he made it his life’s mission to create that love for Planet Ocean. Jacques-Yves Cousteau died age 87 of a heart attack on June 25, 1997 in Paris.

When Cousteau first discovered and shared the wonders of the ocean in the 1950s, plastic waste was relatively manageable. Today the oceans are threatened as never before with the issue of plastic pollution with an estimated 8 million tonnes of plastic entering the ocean annually. It is estimated that by 2050, there will be more plastic than fish in the ocean.

The theme of the recently celebrated World Environment Day (5 June) was Beat Plastic Pollution. The theme of World Oceans Day (8 June) is Planet Ocean. This is a good week to remember Cousteau who gave us the first glimpse of this wondrous planet. 

–Mamata

Cycle Away!

It has been a long ride for the bicycle. The simple two-wheeled means of transportation that does not burn fossil fuels, causes no pollution, is easy to maneuver and nifty to park, with the added nobility of having numerous health benefits has been around for almost two centuries.

The earliest avatar was in the form of a contraption called the ‘draisine’ invented by a German baron Karl von Draisin 1817. It was a “running machine” which had two wheels but no pedals, and no steering mechanism, and needed to be propelled by the rider pushing his feet against the ground.

But the bicycle as we know it began to evolve several years later. In 1861 French inventors Pierre Lallement, Pierre Michaux, and Ernest Michaux worked on creating a bicycle with pedals, but still no brakes. This was called a velocipede.

1870 saw the invention of the Penny Farthing bicycle. The name came from the design in which the wheels resembled two coins–the penny and the farthing, with the front “penny” being significantly larger than the rear “farthing”. The pedals were on the front wheel and the saddle was four feet high, making for a rather risky ride.

It was in 1885 that John Kemp Starley, an Englishman, perfected the design for a “safety bicycle” with equal-sized wheels and a chain drive. New developments in brakes and tires followed shortly, establishing a basic template for what would become the modern bicycle.

The bicycle became a symbol of affluence, especially in America. Bicycles were expensive, and cycling became a leisure activity for the rich. In fact it was the cyclists who initiated the Good Roads movement in America, especially in the countryside where roads used for horse carriages were rutted and not conducive to a smooth bike ride.

Interestingly, there was not a big time gap between the introduction of the “safety bicycle” and the development of the first automobiles. And the early German inventors like Gottlieb and Daimler used not only cycle technology, but also several components of the bicycle in the manufacture of the automobile. Soon cycle manufacturers became automobile manufacturers in France, Germany, and the U.K. They drew upon and further developed, products, production techniques, materials, innovations, and tooling originally developed specifically for cycles.

Today bicycles are seen as relics of a less-technologically advanced era, but in fact they were at the cutting edge of industrial design in the last quarter of the nineteenth-century. But while innovations continued in the field of motor cars, the bicycle receded in the background. Cars became the new status symbol and cycling came to be seen as a proletariat activity, something you did if you couldn’t afford a car.

The bicycle also played a significant part in the early days of the Women’s Movement. In the late 1880s women took to cycling, an activity that gave them freedom of mobility, independence and self-reliance in a period when they were largely housebound.

Nothing personifies this sense of liberation better than the story of Annie Londonderry.

Source: annielondonderry.com

Annie Cohen Kopchovsky, a Latvian immigrant who had married and settled in Boston, announced on June 25 1894, that she was going to ride around the world on a bicycle. She was 23 years old, and the mother of three small children. Her husband was a devout Orthodox Jew. Annie had ridden a bicycle for the first time just a few days before her announcement.

Furthermore she informed that she was doing this to win a bet for $10,000. The bet was between two Boston merchants that no woman could circumnavigate the globe on a bicycle.  Annie said that she would cycle around the world in 15 months, starting with no money in her pockets. She would not only earn her way, but also return with $5000 in her pocket.

Annie turned every Victorian notion of women’s roles on its head. Not only did she abandon, temporarily, her role of wife and mother, but for most of the journey she rode a man’s bicycle attired in a man’s riding suit, and carrying a small revolver.

Annie was a complete antithesis of the coy domesticated female. She was a shrewd self-promoter, and master of public relations. She even adopted the name Annie Londonderry when The Londonderry Lithia Spring Water Company of Nashua, New Hampshire became the first sponsor, by giving $100 for her journey. Annie continued to cash in on the glamour and novelty of her journey by renting space on her body and bicycle to advertisers, selling photographs of herself, and making guest appearances in stores along the way signing souvenirs, delivering lectures and giving newspaper interviews which she embellished with colourful tales of her adventures.

Annie’s trip had its share of detractors and disbelievers. There was speculation about how much truth there was to all her colourful tales. Annie returned to Chicago on 12 September 1895, 15 months after she had set off. She came back with $3000 dollars that she made on her travels. The newspapers described her global adventure as “the most extraordinary journey ever undertaken by a woman.”

For Annie the journey was more than a test of a woman’s ability to fend for herself. The bicycle was literally her vehicle to the fame, freedom and material wealth that she that craved. For the emerging women’s movement, Annie as well as the bicycle became a symbol of emancipation.

Today the uniqueness, longevity and versatility of the bicycle, which has been in use for two centuries, is being celebrated once again. In recent times, when the world is literally choking from exhausts from fossil fuel and traffic congestion from motorised transport, the bicycle is being promoted as a simple, affordable, reliable, clean and environmentally fit sustainable means of transportation, fostering environmental stewardship and health.

The return to the bicycle movement was started by Leszek Sibilski in 2018 by a sociology professor and cycling and physical education activist who lobbied to bring the importance of the bicycle to the international stage and pushed for a day that could highlight this. Sibilski also advocated for integrating cycling into public transportation for sustainable development resolutions.

In response to the growing momentum of the movement in 2018, the United Nations General Assembly, declared 3 June to be celebrated as World Bicycle Day.

The day encourages stakeholders to emphasize and advance the use of the bicycle as a means of fostering sustainable development, strengthening education, including physical education, for children and young people, promoting health, preventing disease, promoting tolerance, mutual understanding and respect and facilitating social inclusion and a culture of peace.

In an age of the power of social media to promote such days, this is a good time to remember how, in a much earlier time, Annie Londonderry single-handedly “promoted” the bicycle. She would have been a perfect “Influencer” for World Bicycle Day!

–Mamata

Carl Linnaeus: Giver of Names

May 22 marked the celebration of the International Day for Biological Diversity. What exactly does this term, or word Biodiversity mean? At the broadest level it refers to the variety among life forms. It describes not only the number but also the types and variety of living things. While there is a huge variety of sizes, structures and functions among living things, there are also sufficient similarities to permit their grouping together into orderly patterns.

This grouping is called classification. The science of classifying organisms is called taxonomy. When talking about taxonomy, the name that immediately comes to mind is that of Carl Linnaeus, who is most famous for creating a system of naming plants and animals—a system we still use today. But Carl Linnaeus was much more than just the ‘father of modern taxonomy’. He was a renowned botanist, physician and zoologist; a pioneer in the study of ecology, and one of the most influential scientists in history.

Carl Linnaeus was born on May 23, 1707, the eldest of five children, in a town called Råshult, in Sweden. His father Nils, was a minister and keen gardener. From the time Carl was very young, his father used to take him to the garden and teach him about plants. Carl observed his father in the garden, and was soon as excited and interested in plants. He began growing plants and by the age of five had his own little patch in the family’s large garden.

His father believed that the best thing he could offer his children was a solid education and, in addition to botany, he taught Carl Latin, as well as about religion at an early age. Nils also realized that his son was exceptionally bright, and engaged a private tutor for him; but the boy found the tutor very dull as compared to his own explorations in the garden and countryside. This aversion to formal education continued when he joined school at the age of ten, and Carl was an indifferent student. The teachers ignored his immense knowledge and interest in Botany because it was not considered a ‘proper’ subject, and as he was not interested in subjects like Hebrew, mathematics and theology, they advised that he was not bright enough to go to University. Only one of his teachers saw his potential and advised his father that the boy should apply for admission to medical school. He also coached him in anatomy and physiology.    

At the age of 21 Carl enrolled in Lund University under the Latin form of his name Carolus Linnaeus. This was a common practice for students in Europe at that time. After a year he switched to Uppsala University as he was told that the medical and botany courses there were better. While he was there Carl wrote up some of his observations on reproduction in plants which were of such a high standard that he was offered a post of Botany lecturer at the University. In 1731 Carl began teaching botany, at the age of 23. He was a good teacher and his lectures were popular with students. As he continued his own botanical studies, Carl found that the way in which plants were classified was not satisfactory. He started jotting down ideas about how this could be improved. Linnaeus realized that he needed a cataloguing system that was easily expandable and easy to reorganize; for this he started using cards, thereby inventing index cards!

In 1732 Carl got funding for a botanical expedition to Lapland, in the far north of Sweden. For 6 months he travelled 2000 km across Lapland making notes on the native plants and birds. At this time it occurred to him that there could be another way of naming plants. He replaced some very lengthy plant names with logical, much shorter, two-part names which consisted of a genus and a species name. The genus describes a larger grouping of organisms with certain common characteristics, while the species name describes only one, unique particular organism grouped within that genus, or larger classification. The names were in Latin because at that time, Latin was the language of science. Highly educated people of the period could all read and write in Latin which enabled them to share scientific information, regardless of their native tongue.  

Carl Linnaeus described his observations of plants along with the newly-coined names in a book called Flora Lapponica, including his new discoveries. He also realized that he could use his new system to name animals as well as plants.

In 1735, at the age of 28 Linnaeus was awarded a doctoral degree in medicine for his thesis on malaria and its causes from a University in the Netherlands. While he was there he showed his continuing work on the classification and renaming of plants to a Dutch botanist who was very excited by its potential to transform botany. He supported the publication of Carl’s work which was published in 1737 under the title Systema Naturae (System of Nature). The first edition had 12 outsize pages.

Over the years, Linnaeus continued to develop his ideas and add new species. In the tenth edition of Systema Naturae published in 1758, Linnaeus classified all the animal kingdom into genera and gave all the species two-part names. The twelfth edition had 2400 pages. During his career, Linnaeus named about 13,000 life forms and classified them into suitable categories such as mammals, birds, fish, primates, canines, etc.

Linnaeus returned to Sweden in 1738, becoming a physician in the nation’s capital city, Stockholm. He helped found the Royal Swedish Academy of Science and became its first president. In 1741, aged 34, Linnaeus returned to Uppsala University and became a full professor of medicine, taking control of botany, natural history and the university’s botanical garden. He also revived his childhood passion by taking his students on walking trips in the countryside searching for plants. In 1750, at the age of 43, Linnaeus was appointed as Uppsala University’s rector. Carolus Linnaeus was knighted by the King of Sweden in 1761 and took the nobleman’s name of Carl von Linné. He died at the age of 70, on 10 January 1778, after suffering a stroke.

Linnaeus was the first person to place humans in the primate family and to describe bats as mammals rather than birds. He did this with the same reasoning he used to categorize all life, which was based on similarities he identified between species. Human beings are also among the thousands of species that were given a name by Carl Linnaeus—Homo sapiens meaning ‘thinking man or wise man’!

Today as the world sees a steady decline in the numbers of species and a severe threat to global Biodiversity due to anthropogenic factors, one wonders if Carl Linnaeus would regret giving humans the title of ‘wise’!

–Mamata

Rooh Afza: Soul Refresher

Last week Meena wrote about the thirst quenchers–sherbets and squashes that make the long Indian summers bearable. The famous Rooh Afza headed the list. Quite by coincidence, I recently read more about the interesting history of this sticky red drink that is a favourite of the Indian subcontinent.

Sharing the cool story for the long hot days.

The tale dates back to the early twentieth century and a Hakim named Hafiz Abdul Majeed. When he was very young Hafiz memorized the holy Quran and learnt the Persian language. He then went on to earn a degree in Unani medicine.

The Unani system follows the humoural theory which postulates the presence of four humours in the body: dam (blood), balgham (phlegm), safra (yellow bile) and sauda (black bile), a parallel to kapha, vata and pitta, the three doshas in Ayurveda. In the Unani system of medicine there are six basic factors which are considered essential for the maintenance of good health and prevention of diseases. These are: air, drinks and food, sleep and wakefulness, excretion and retention, physical activity and mental activity, and rest.

In 1906, Hakim Hafiz opened a clinic in the by-lanes of the old city of Delhi,  that was then undivided India’s capital. The clinic was to treat poor people based on the Unani system of medicine. He called his clinic Hamdard Dawakhana. Hamdard is a combination of two Persian words hum (used in the sense of ‘companion’) and dard (meaning ‘pain’). Hamdard thus stood for ‘a companion in pain’.

Hakim Hafiz also experimented with different herbs to create medicines. He was looking for something that could help in the treatment of heat stroke, dehydration and diarrhoea that were very common in the summer when the hot dry ‘loo’ wind blew cross the northern plains. He combined a number of ‘cooling’ ingredients (mainly herbs and fruits) to produce a thick red syrup which he believed would combat the effects of severe heat.

It is believed that the original formulation included the following:

Herbs: Purslane (luni-bhaji or kulfa seeds), chicory, wine-grape raisins (Vitis vinifera), white water lily (Nymphaea alba), blue star water lily (Nymphaea nouchali), lotus (Nelumbo nucifera), borage (starflower) and coriander.
Fruits: Orange, citron, pineapple, apple, berries, strawberry, raspberry, loganberry, blackberry, cherry, concord grapes, blackcurrant and watermelon
Vegetables: Spinach, carrot, mint and luffa gourd.
Flowers: Rose, kewra (Pandanus fascicularis), lemon and orange.
Roots: Vetiver (Chrysopogon zizanioides).

The story goes that when Hafiz made the concoction for the first time in 1907, the fragrance was so enticing that curious crowds collected. The entire first batch was sold within one hour. Soon it was not just the fragrance, but also the taste that became so popular that demand for this ‘herbal medicine’ soared. The Hakim gave his creation the name Rooh Afza which in Urdu literally means ‘something that refreshes the soul’. It also reflects the Hakim’s early exposure to Persian literature. Rooh Afza is the name of the daughter of King Firdaus (Heaven) in a book Masnavi Gulzar -e- Naseem.

As the popularity of the syrup grew beyond its medicinal uses to become a refreshing summer drink, the Hakim turned his attention to its marketing. In 1910 he took help of an artist Mirza Noor Ahmad to create a logo that integrated flowers, fruits and herbs in its design. The overlays of colour in the design could not be accurately printed in the printing presses in Delhi. So the printing of the labels was done by the Bolton Press run by Parsis in Bombay.

At that time, there was also no standard container for the syrup. Hakim’s Hamdard Dawakhana used old wine bottles of any size, colour and shape that were available for the other syrups. For Rooh Afza Hamdard started using white bottles of uniform size (750 ml) and shape which were called ‘Pole’ bottles. It became the first sherbet to be bottled in these bottles. It was also the first sherbet to be presented in a beautifully printed wrapper of butter paper.

In the early days the news of the product was spread through pamphlets that were literally thrown in the air for wide outreach.  With growing attention, Hamdard increased its marketing activity by advertising in national newspapers. By 1915 the drink became very popular well beyond Delhi as a thirst quencher and refresher.

Hakim Hafiz Abdul Majeed died in 1922 at the age of just 34 years. His sons were only 13 and 2 years old at the time. His widow Rabia Begum took charge of her husband’s Hamdard Dawakhana. But instead of running it as a private clinic she declared Hamdard as a Waqf or Islamic Charitable Trust, where the entire profits would be used for public welfare.

While Rooh Afza was initially prepared and bottled in a small kitchen, the growing demand required larger premises. A factory was set up in Daryaganj in Delhi in 1940, and his two sons managed the business. The Partition of the country in 1947 led to the parting of ways of the brothers. Abdul Majid’s eldest son Abdul Hamid remained in India and continued to manage Hamdard India. The younger son Hakeem Muhammad Saeed went to Pakistan in 1948, where he founded a clinic named Tibb-e-Unani in Karachi. This subsequently became Hamdard Pakistan. Both brothers continued to carry on the legacy left behind by their father. Rooh Afza has transcended political and geographical boundaries and continues to be a favourite in both countries.

Apart from the India and Pakistan, Hamdard also has a presence in Bangladesh. Hakim Saeed had opened a branch of Hamdard in what was then East Pakistan. After the creation of Bangladesh, instead of winding up the operations in the country, he gifted the plant to the people of Bangladesh to be run and managed by its workers.

In all the three countries, Hamdard is registered as Waqf (a Muslim endowment entity). It means it is a non-profit organisation under Islamic Law. In India, Rooh Afza sells close to 40 million bottles a year. Hamdard reinvests only 15 per cent of their profits in business and the rest is transferred to Hamdard National Foundation (HNF) which distributes it to different charitable organisations.

Rooh Afza—truly the refresher of the collective soul of the subcontinent! And a drink that triggers a kaleidoscope of personal memories for so many, across generations.

–Mamata

Henry Dunant: The Man Behind the Red Cross

The words Red Cross literally, and immediately, bring to the mind’s eye the image of the red cross on a white background. This has become a universal symbol of humanitarian help and healing wherever there is a situation of war, natural or man-made calamity. The history of what has, for over a century been an international movement can be traced back to a much earlier war, and to the humanitarian vision of a businessman named Henry Dunant.

Photo source: https://elm.com.sg/

Henry Dunant was born on May 8, 1828 in Geneva in a Swiss family that was religious and civic-minded. Henry himself, in this youth, was closely involved with the Young Men’s Christian Association. After he completed school he was initially apprenticed to a Swiss bank. When he was twenty-six he joined as a representative of a company that had commercial interests in Swiss colonies in North Africa.

As part of his work Dunant travelled to Algeria to take charge of the Swiss colony of Setif. While he was there he attempted to become an independent entrepreneur and set up a wheat mill. For this he needed a large tract of land and water rights for the same from Napoleon III. Napoleon was at the time headquartered near the northern Italian town of Solferino, directing the French and Italian armies in the battles to drive the Austrians out of Italy. Dunant arrived in Solferino in time to witness one of the bloodiest battles of the nineteenth century. On that memorable twenty-fourth of June 1859, more than 300,000 men stood facing each other; the battle line was five leagues long, and the fighting continued for more than fifteen hours.

Dunant was also witness to the horrific aftermath of the battle which left behind hundreds badly wounded and dying without any kind of help. Dunant was deeply moved by his experience. He wrote about it and published a small book titled Un Souvenir de Solferino (A Memory of Solferino). He began the book with these words: I was a mere tourist, with no part whatever, in this great conflict; but it was my rare privilege, through an unusual train of circumstances, to witness the moving scenes that I have resolved to describe.

The book, published in 1862 had three parts. The first described the battle itself. The second described the battlefield after the fighting: chaotic disorder, despair unspeakable, and misery of every kind. It also described all the efforts to care for the wounded in the small town of Castiglione. The third section proposed a plan. It suggested that the nations of the world should form relief societies to provide care for the wartime wounded; each society should be sponsored by a governing board composed of the nation’s leading figures, should appeal to everyone to volunteer, and should train these volunteers to aid the wounded on the battlefield, and to care for them later until they recovered.

As he wrote: But why have I told of all these scenes of pain and distress, and perhaps aroused painful emotions in my readers? Why have I lingered with seeming complacency over lamentable pictures, tracing their details with what may appear desperate fidelity? It is a natural question. Perhaps I might answer it by another: Would it not be possible, in time of peace and quiet, to form relief societies for the purpose of having care given to the wounded in wartime by zealous, devoted and thoroughly qualified volunteers?

This report shook the whole of Europe. What was unusual about it was that rather than being just a reporting of the battle, Dunant also provided ideas and proposals aimed at preventing a repetition of the horrifying happenings in Solferino.

His two main proposals were: i.That countries adopt an international agreement, which would recognise the status of medical services and of the wounded on the battlefield. ii. The creation of national relief societies, made up of volunteers, trained in peacetime to provide neutral and impartial help to relieve suffering in times of war.

In response to this, on 7 February 1863, the Geneva Society for Public Welfare appointed the International Committee for the Relief of the Wounded, a committee of five people, to find ways to put the plan into action. The committee consisted of the banker Gustave Moynier, the general Guillaume-Henri Dufour, as well as the doctors Louis Appia and Théodore Maunoir, along with Henry Dunant. Dunant, poured his own money and time into the cause, travelled over most of Europe to meet governments and convince them to send representatives to a conference which would develop the plan of action. The founding charter of what was to become the International Red Cross Movement was drawn up in 1863.

An international conference was held from 26 to 29 October 1863; it included delegates from sixteen nations. The result of the conference was an international treaty with ten articles that were signed by twelve nations on 22 August 1864. This became known as The Geneva Convention. The Treaty guaranteed neutrality to sanitary personnel and protection of sanitary establishments, guaranteed free access for such personnel to grant material assistance.

The Convention also adopted a special identifying emblem. A red cross on white base was selected as a recognition and protection sign. It was the reverse of the Swiss Federal colours and was selected in honour of the Swiss origin of the initiative to provide humanitarian assistance in times of armed conflict.

While Dunant was putting all is time and resources in making his humanitarian dream a reality, his personal and professional life went into a steep decline. His business ventures failed and he became bankrupt; he was also cast out by the Geneva society of which he was once a part; he was penniless and unmoored. In September 1867 he resigned from his post as secretary, as well as member of the International Committee.

For the next 20 years from 1875-1895 Dunant became a wandering recluse, living on charity. In 1887 he ended up in a small Swiss village where he fell ill and found refuge in the local hospice where he spent the remaining years of his life. In the meanwhile he was almost forgotten, and even presumed dead, until a journalist discovered him in 1895 and wrote an article about him. The article was printed all over Europe. Henri Dunant was rediscovered by the world.

In 1901, Dunant was awarded the first-ever Nobel Peace Prize for his role in founding the International Red Cross Movement and initiating the Geneva Convention. The prize was divided equally between Jean Henry Dunant “for his humanitarian efforts to help wounded soldiers and create international understanding” and Frédéric Passy “for his lifelong work for international peace conferences, diplomacy and arbitration”.

Despite the prizes and honours Dunant continued to live in his one room in the hospice until he died in 1910, and as per his wishes, there was no funeral ceremony.

Henry Dunant’s vision and creation of the worldwide movement continue to be play a critical part, in a world that is conflict-torn even today, helping people in need during armed conflict, natural disasters and other emergencies. The movement’s ethics are based on seven Fundamental Principles: Humanity, impartiality, neutrality, independence, voluntary service, unity and universality.

May 8 is marked as Red Cross Day in memory of the contribution of Henry Dunant to building this international Movement, and to celebrate these principles.

–Mamata

April Blooms

In the month of April, as our Indian spring advances into the long and blazing hot summer, we have been witness to a variety of showers. These are the copious shedding of flowers from the profusely blooming trees that, in a beautiful sequence of blossoming, are heralding the change in seasons.

The first colours to touch the magnificent canvas were the exquisite pink-mauve hues of the Tabebuia rosea tree. This is the Rosy trumpet or Tecoma pink tree which is appropriately called Basant Rani (Queen of Spring) in Hindi. Almost overnight, the nearly leafless tree exploded into a profusion of pinkish- white trumpet-like flowers that literally wrapped the tree in a frothy cloud. Cities like Bangalore reveled in the sight of the avenues of these rosy ranis, while in my city we had to make do with a chance sighting of one of the few and scattered specimens of Tabebuia. I had the privilege of enjoying this beautiful sight of the single tree on my morning walk route. The glory was short-lived. Almost as quickly as it burst into blossom, the tree shed its flowers, overnight carpeting the area under the canopy with the delicate and faded flowers. One morning we were feasting on the full canopy, and the next morning there was nothing left on the tree but bare branches. The first delicate hues had been transferred to the canvas of summer.

It was time to add more shades to the palette. It was the turn of the tiny eggshell-white neem flowers, and the slighter larger ivory karanj flowers to make their appearance. These emerged coyly amid the fresh foliage on their parent plants. The incredible shades of green, that defied definition or description, merged flawlessly with the blossoms. But while the leaves clung on firmly, the flowers, having played their brief but vital part in interaction with the birds and bees who thronged to feast on the nectar, began their graceful descent from the canopies, and carpeted the ground below. The neem flowers merged with the soil silently and unobtrusively. The karanj flowers made their presence felt with a crunch crunch sound when trod upon. The white faded from the canvas, even as the leaves took on deeper and darker shades of green.

As the summer sun gets stronger and the heat builds up, it is time for the palette to become more vibrant and vivid.  

The first splash of colour is golden yellow. The Indian laburnum or Golden Shower tree is in bloom. Its masses of yellow blossoms cascade from the tree like waterfalls of molten gold. This usually nondescript tree starts with sprouting green-copper coloured leaves which are soon all but hidden in the mass of sprays of golden flowers.  In the scorching sun, the blooming flowers are a magnet for a wide range of insects and birds which are important pollinating agents. The splash of gold shines and shimmers for a few weeks, but as the heat intensifies, the gold seems to gradually lose its gloss, and the hanging blossoms gently float to the ground to further fade as they prepare to merge with the earth.

As one yellow begins to fade, the palette is already being prepared with a more vibrant shade of yellow. It is time for the Copper Pod tree to enter the stage. With its wide spreading crown of many branches already covered in rich dark green feathery leaves, the contrast made by its turmeric yellow flowers is stunning against the pre-dawn grey sky. Unlike the flowers of the laburnum that cascade downwards in long clusters, the flowers of this tree bloom as dense bunches on long upright stalks at the ends of the branches. Individual flowers are small and delicate and have brown lines at the base of the petals.

It is these flowers that give the tree its other names like Yellow Flamboyant or Yellow Flame tree. It is also often called Peltophorum which is part of its botanical name Peltophorum pterocarpum. The name Copper Pod is derived from its fruit pods which are coppery brown at first and later become dark brown. The pods are 5-10 cm long and 2.5 cm broad with one or two seeds within. The shield-shaped pods give it yet another name of Rusty Shield bearer.

By whatever name we may choose to call it, this flamboyant tree is a great favourite for a wide variety of birds who use its abundant canopy for nesting, and who fill the air with an orchestra of calls with the break of dawn. They are joined by the silent activity of bats, squirrels and garden lizards who go about their business in the company of their feathered friends.  

Even as the old flowers turn into pods, new flowers continue to bloom, as well as shed. The fallen flowers form a molten pool at its base. Unlike the laburnum, the flowers do not fade as they dry, and continue to attract attention even after they have left their lush green abode and travelled down to the earth.

With the swirling, sweeping brush strokes continuing to fill the canvas, it is time for the palette to ready the rich oranges and reds that will put the crowning strokes. The Gulmohar is ready to take the stage.

An elegant wide-spreading tree with delicate, fern-like leaves explodes in a riot of flame-red flowers. It really looks as if the tree is afire. Up close, each flower is made up of four spoon-shaped spreading petals which are a combination of scarlet and orange-red, and one upright petal which is marked with yellow and white. The flowers blend gracefully with the foliage making a breath-taking sight that stands out not only against the lightening early morning and darkening late evening sky, but equally in the yellow-white haze of the midday sun. The flowers drift to the ground, not as the downpours of the other trees, but sprinkle the earth with a delicate pattern in shades of crimson and scarlet.

Nature’s palette has artfully mixed and matched hues and shades, light and shadow, form and function. The Indian summer masterpiece is complete!

–Mamata

Purnima Devi: Saviour of the Storks

Purnima was only five years old when she had to go and live with her grandmother. The little girl missed her parents and siblings, but her grandmother who had a small farm on the banks of the Brahmaputra river in Assam started taking her to the nearby paddy fields and water bodies, and showing her and telling her about the different birds that could be seen in large numbers. She also taught her traditional bird songs that described not only the beauty but the importance of birds in people’s lives and culture.

The seeds that were planted in those fields took deep roots. Purnima not only fell in love with birds, but would also go on to devote her professional life to studying and protecting birds. After her Master’s degree in Zoology, Purnima decided that she wanted to focus on a bird species that she had grown up seeing, but whose numbers seemed to be on the decline. This was the Greater adjutant storks—large majestic birds named for their stiff-legged, almost military gait. These carnivorous birds are “cleaners of the ecosystem” and play a significant role in the food chain in terms of nutrient cycling and ecosystem regulation,

Purnima started her doctoral research on Greater Adjutants in 2007. As she studied their nesting behaviour, Purnima realized that the birds needed tall trees where they could make their platform nests. But with rapid disappearance of natural forests and wetlands, these birds had to seek nesting trees wherever they could find them. The only remaining large trees were in the villages, close to the homes of villagers. But these birds were far from welcome there.

Hargila (which means ‘bone swallower’) as the storks are locally called are scavengers and bring bones and dead animals to their nests, these often drop to the ground. Along with the birds’ foul-smelling droppings, these birds are not the most pleasant of neighbours to have. Villagers even cut down huge old trees in their backyards to prevent these birds from nesting. The birds were also perceived as bad omens or disease carriers. With the declining natural tree cover, and the hostility of the villagers, the survival of Adjutant storks was in jeopardy.

In 2007, while she was still a researcher, Purnima was present when a large tree was cut down, bringing down the nest along with nine chicks. Her attempts to explain to the villagers about the ecological significance of such scavenger birds, were met with ridicule by the local people. One local resident even scoffed her saying that she should work in his house to clean up the storks’ stinking messes. Rather than being put off by this, Purnima chose to abandon her academic research and to focus instead on working with the local communities to change their perceptions towards this bird.

Purnima decided to start by reaching out to the women, who did not often have a voice, but who could potentially influence the entire family. Her first step was to gain access to the nests which were often in trees on family land. This was initially by getting close to the individual women who were the homemakers. Purnima then started to get the women together through common events such as cooking competitions. She began by appealing to their maternal instincts by stressing the importance of safe nesting sites for the birds, while also discussing their ecological importance. She told them that when our children are young they also make a mess at home, but we still love and protect them. More and more women started coming to these meetings, and joined in the efforts to protect nesting sites and rehabilitate chicks that had fallen from the nests. They organised ‘baby showers’ to celebrate newly-hatched chicks; they revived the traditional songs, poems, festivals and plays that featured these birds.

Purnima realized that for sustained community engagement they needed to take ownership. She helped to provide the women with weaving looms and yarn so that they could create and sell textiles with motifs of the hargila. This initiative provided livelihood options, supported women to become entrepreneurs, and boosted their sense of pride and ownership, as well as raising the profile of the stork. Today the “Hargila Army” consists of over 10,000 women. The Hargila army members call their leader Purnima hargila baideu, or stork sister. The power of community conservation is evident. This has also led to the involvement of the local government departments to recognize, and in some ways support the community efforts.

Since Purnima Devi Burman started her conservation programme, the number of nests in the three villages of Kamrup district in Assam, where she first started her efforts have risen from 28 to more than 250, making this the largest breeding colony of Greater adjutant storks in the world. In 2017, Barman began building tall bamboo nesting platforms for the endangered birds to hatch their eggs. Her efforts were rewarded a couple of years later when the first Greater adjutant stork chicks were hatched on these experimental platforms.

Safeguarding single nests is not enough, the storks’ habitats also need to be restored. The Hargila Army has helped communities to plant tens of thousands of saplings near stork nesting trees and wetland areas in the hope they will support future stork populations.

The Greater adjutant stork is the second-rarest stork species in the world. It is also listed as ‘Endangered’ as per the IUCN Red List which notes that there are only about 1200 of these storks remaining in the world. The dramatic decline in their population has been partly driven by the destruction of their natural habitats, especially wetlands, and the ruthless destruction of their nesting trees. Assam in India is home to the largest population (around 1000) of these birds. This is in no small measure due to the efforts of Purnima Devi Burman and her Hargila Army. 

Purnima Devi’s efforts have also received wider recognition. She has received several awards. She was the recipient of the 2022 UNEP Award for Champion of the Earth for Entrepreneurial Vision. The annual awards are the highest environmental honour that the UNEP confers on individuals and organisations whose actions have a “transformative impact” on the environment.

Purnima Devi was recognized for “pioneering conservation work that empowered thousands of women, creating entrepreneurs and improving livelihoods while bringing the Greater adjutant stork back from the brink of extinction. Her work has shown that conflict between humans and wildlife can be resolved to the benefit of all. By highlighting the damaging impact that the loss of wetlands has had on the species who feed and breed on them, she reminds us of the importance of protecting and restoring ecosystems.”

As we mark Earth Day on 22 April, this is a good time to celebrate such Champions of the Earth who have made it their life’s mission to Protect and Conserve.

–Mamata

There’s a Word For It!

I recently read a book by Jhumpa Lahiri. She is perhaps best known for her novel The Namesake which was also made into a film. This book, titled In Other Words, is very different in that it is not fiction but rather an autobiographical work that describes the author’s determination, and process, of not just learning a new language—Italian–but writing a book directly in this acquired language. The English version is a translation (not by her) of the original in Italian.

One of the key observations and learnings from this process is the realization that every language has so many nuances that are closely linked with the culture and history of its land, that on many occasions it is almost impossible to find a satisfactory equivalent, let alone a appropriate ‘translation’ of the word. She describes her experiences of actually conversing with local people, even after having academically ‘mastered’ Italian, and the nervous jitters it caused her. It would be interesting to know if the Italians have a specific word for this feeling. Well, the Japanese do! Yoko meshi is a Japanese word that describes just this feeling! 

As someone who does some basic translation I too often find that Indian languages have such a gamut of words that so aptly describe such nuances. In the English language these are often simply clubbed into a single word; a word that is unable to capture the spontaneous response or image that the word evokes in the original language.

This is true of all languages and cultures. It is great fun and invigorating to come across such words. Here is a sample from my collection!

Honnomushi is the Japanese word for ‘bookworm’ and its literal translation is found in English as well as other languages. But what about the bookworms who accumulate books with all good intentions of reading them some day? Well the Japanese have a word for that too–Tsundoku.

Tsundoku. The word literally means ‘reading pile’. It derives from a combination of tsunde-oku (to let things pile up) and dokusho (to read books). It generally refers to the tendency to buy books and let them pile up around the house unread. It can also refer to the stacks themselves. The word carries no pejorative sense in Japanese. Rather it connotes a cheerful whimsy: wobbly towers of unread books, each containing an unknown world. I am happy that now my stash of books “saved for a rainy day” has a respectable name!

Aspaldiko. Besides the joy and comfort of books, it is friends that make life worth living. While there are some that we meet regularly, there are some who one cannot meet as often. Meeting an old friend after a long time has a special excitement and delight. Well the Basque people have a word exactly for that feeling. Aspaldiko. It refers to the joy of catching up with someone you haven’t seen in a long time. A perfect word to the next time one reconnects with an old friend!

Tartle. There is the aspaldiko of meeting up with that special friend. But another way of meeting up is the organized ‘class reunion’. Meeting with literally ‘old’ faces, decades after one last saw each other, has its moments of embarrassment. The face is sort of familiar but the name that matches the face eludes, at the precise moment when you meet face-to-face. More red faces when you don’t know how to introduce the same to your spouse or children. Well the Scots have just the word for this—Tartle! This sums up the embarrassment and panic you feel when you forget someone’s name before introducing them. The word even comes handy to excuse your apparent rudeness. All you need to say is “Sorry for my tartle!”

Shemomedjamo. Reunions are also an occasion to eat, drink and be merry. As the feasting continues, you know when you’re really full, but your meal is just so delicious, you can’t stop eating it. The Georgians have a word for this mixture of gluttony and gastronomic distress. Shemomedjamo. This word means, “I accidentally ate the whole thing.”

Pelinti. In the process of getting to the stage of Shemomedjamo, you reach out for that slice of freshly arrived pizza. The melted cheese is irresistible. You bite into the piece and that tanatalizing cheese immediately sticks to your palate causing sheer agony. You frantically move the piece in your mouth hoping for some relief. While this may render you temporarily speechless, in Ghana they have a word for just this moment. Pelinti! You can scream Pelinti as you move the hot food around in your mouth in a desperate attempt to cool it before swallowing.

Abbiocco. You have feasted to the point of overeating, and perhaps had occasion to scream “pelinti”. The belly is happy and the senses replete. Conversation slowly ebbs, and it’s time for the next scene in the play. Most of us know that this calls for a siesta! Well the Italians also have a perfect word for this–abbiocco, literally meaning to collapse with exhaustion, but more effectively used to denote the slothful feeling of the need to lie down after heavy eating and drinking.

Lagom. While many cultures celebrate the joys of indulgences and their languages have appropriate words to define these excesses, the Swedes are more restrained, with a more functional approach to living. And reflecting the same approach is a single word Lagom. The word describes a general contentment with the “enoughness” of what’s presented to you in the moment. Lagom means not too much and not too little. It asks us to create balance in our lives by taking everything in moderation, avoiding both excess and deprivation.

Well it’s each to their own formula of a good life! Provided that one can have brief moments of Gigil. This giggly-sounding word comes from the Tagalog language of the Philippines. Gigil as defined is more than joy, and not quite pure excitement, but somewhere in the middle of joy, excitement, and a giddy heart-warming feeling. It is such moments that keep us alive.

Have a good life!

–Mamata