Category: Meena Raghunathan

The Dodo and The Myna

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 2 Comments

The Dodo is the textbook example of man’s role in driving other species to extinction. This defenceless bird was hunted and harried to disappearance through the appearance of humans on the uninhabited island of what is now called Mauritius. Sailors on the high seas—the Arabs, the Portuguese and then the Dutch, discovered and re-discovered the pristine isle. For dodos, the beginning of the end was in 1598 when the Dutch discovered them on the island. Dodos were flightless birds, and also fearless because they had never encountered predators. So when humans appeared with their guns and weapons, they had no clue how to protect themselves. Moreover, humans brought along dogs, cats, pigs, rats—all which hunted the birds and raided their nests. Till there were none left.

8887BB0D-6F92-4CD0-AE58-EDF689F6A0AA

But if this is a story of man’s role in the loss of a species, what follows is an equally sorry tale of havoc cause by man’s deliberate introduction of a species into an alien eco-system. And on the very same island of Mauritius!

Sugarcane did and continues to play a key role in the economy of Mauritius. The sugarcane crop in Mauritius was beset by grasshoppers, which ate the leaves. In the 1780s, the French deliberately introduced mynas to the island to help control these. To a certain extent they did, but soon enough the mynas figured out the local lizards were easier to catch than the grasshoppers, and so made the lizards the mainstay of their diet. One consequence of this was that the insects that the lizards fed on multiplied, as they now had no predators! And even more seriously perhaps, the mynas themselves became pests to native species. Mynas are by nature aggressive and raid nests for eggs and newly hatched chicks. They compete with native birds for nesting sites. In Mauritius, they have been known to compete with an endemic species, the endangered Echo Parakeet, for nesting spaces.

Island ecosystems are very special. Human interventions can have disastrous results. To quote the IUCN Island Ecosystem Specialist Group:

‘Earth is home to over 100,000 islands, which support 20% of global biodiversity. The characteristics of size, shape and degree of isolation make many of these islands ecologically and culturally unique.

However, these same characteristics also make islands fragile and vulnerable ecosystems. Islands have the highest proportion of recorded species extinctions. Eighty percent of known species extinctions have occurred on islands and currently 45 percent of IUCN Red List endangered species occur on islands.’

Mauritius and all islands are beautiful and special! Let’s hope that we humans can preserve what makes them special, and leave the generations to follow this precious legacy.

An interesting aside:  A Mughal-time painting found in St. Petersburg  shows a dodo along with several Indian birds. The painting is believed to be from the 17th century and is attributed to the artist Ustad Mansur. The bird depicted probably lived in Emperor Jahangir’s zoo in Surat!

–Meena

Bravely Battling the Big C

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 7 Comments

I requested my friend who has resolutely conquered her cancer to share her experiences, and she generously agreed, though it was not easy for her to re-visit this part of her life. And what I realized is that you need 4Cs to battle the Big C: Courage of the person concerned, Caring Family, Compassionate Doctor and a network of Concerned Friends.

I share her story in first person and have the conviction that she has left it behind forever.

–Meena

It’s hard to go down memory lane to the fateful day when I got to know that I had the dreaded C disease. It was so hard to accept that diagnosis and to be able to actually say the word: CANCER!

A17DE18F-B261-4714-B3C5-D772E24CF012

‘Oh my God ! it can’t be happening to me…’ was obviously the first thought.

It took Dr Sarin less than five minutes and a physical examination to deliver the verdict which sealed my fate. But the journey to get to this point was not an easy one. I had been going from pillar to post, from doctor to doctor to doctor in my country of residence for a full year, and nobody so much as even suspected anything this drastic. I used to repeatedly get a ulcer on my left nipple which was not amenable to any treatment –I tried allopathy, homeopathy, ayurveda…you name it! I visited all streams of experts…GP, Dermatologist, Gynaecologist. Finally, as luck would have it, I came across a surgeon who suggested a biopsy, and on getting the result, he suspected something and asked me to go to India immediately.

A friend of mine had taken me for this biopsy. She immediately got into action and contacted her cousin in Delhi who knew a thing or two about doctors there. Though I have my whole family in Delhi and I belong to Delhi, here was a friend in this alien country who helped me to not only find an ACE DOCTOR, but took the pains to ensure I got to see the doctor—from arranging the appointment to everything.. all without my knowledge. She contacted my sisters and gave them the doctor’s contacts and my appointment time.

So Jan 23, 2017..can I ever forget this date !! I met Dr Sarin with 10 of my family members. There were tears and tears and tears all around as Dr Sarin gave her verdict. But I have to say, if ever there was an angel in a doctor’s guise, it was Dr Sarin. She tried to soften the blow as much as possible. Convinced my family that this was the easiest cancer to handle and that it was completely curable. We latched on to every single word she uttered and put our complete faith on her.

My Paget’s disease needed to be dealt with immediately. Straight on, we dived into a whirlpool of tests and more tests! Mercifully Jan 26th was a National holiday, so I got some respite to catch my breath! My surgery was planned for Jan 27th morning. God was surely holding my hand! I say so because I didn’t get time to think about what had hit me, everything was moving so fast (and trust me that’s the best way to go about it!). On Friday morning, I went into the OT. I was constantly praying to my Sai to hold my hand through this ordeal even as I saw doctors and nurses preparing for the operation. Dr Sarin came to me in the pre-surgery room, talked to me and gave me courage. There I saw my Sai Baba on her locket and suddenly I felt that He would work through Dr.Sarin’s hands and cut away my cancer. I was ready for the surgery. Everything went off well ..I was sent home the next day.

While all looked well, the tissues were sent for a detailed exam. On the third day when I went back for check-up, I was shocked to learn that a gene mutation had been found and I needed hormone therapy (Herceptin) for a year to completely take care of my problem. BUT to give that, they had to give me 6 cycles of chemotherapy. OMG! Once again I was in Dr Sarin’s room flooding it with tears. I could not handle the thought of chemotherapy. Apart from everything else, I could not accept the thought of losing hair and becoming bald. And also the fact that I would have to stay back for 4 1/2 months at least, to finish six rounds of the three-weekly chemo sessions.

Then started the second phase of my treatment journey. We had left Delhi about 10 years before this incident. I have two sisters and a brother-in-law living in Delhi and a hoard of school and college friends whom I had been close to. By God’s grace they all came forward and were there for me. They were like my suraksha chakra. I can never thank them enough or do anything to repay their love and support and courage which helped me go through this trial.

For after this, it was never-ending trips to Apollo every Monday and Thursday. I decided to look upon these as my outings! Remember in chemo we have to be confined to a room in the most sanitized atmosphere possible ! Oh God ! how seriously we took it..my US-based sons would send us Dettol wipes in huge dibbas and Chlorex to clean the floor. My husband was quite depressed through it all…he felt sad and guilty as he could not be there with me. But he had a job to keep and cancer is an expensive affair !

My sons would put a positive spin on everything. They’d say ‘Mummy, when will you ever get so much attention in your life? Just take it in your stride and go through it bravely. We have to come out a champ from this ordeal. Sai Baba is with you, providing all support. You have to do your bit by hanging in there.’

And that was true. I had the best doctors treating me. Dr Sarin is nothing less than God for me. Her healing touch was enough to lift my spirits every time I met her. With every passing chemo, she would say, ‘chalo one more done, ab to katam hone wala hai…’, and I would feel happy that we were crawling towards the end, slowly but surely. May God give her long, blessed life! My medical oncologist Dr Manish Singhal, took care of all the side effects so beautifully that I had minimum discomfort (that the minimum is also difficult to handle is another matter!).

Then again, the hardest part was to lose my hair…however much you may be prepare for it, it does make you cry!!!! I lost mine after the second chemo, but again my children had already sent me wigs, so I didn’t have to move around bald. Dr Sarin, Pooja, Dr Parag and my whole family would always pull down my scarf and urge me to have the confidence to move around like that!

I had my whole family rallying around me. My nutrition was being well taken care of..Nariyal pani first thing in the morning, healthy palak parantha for breakfast, anar mid morning etc etc. The whole meal plan was  ‘cooked fresh, fresh, fresh’.

All in all my sisters were a great source of strength for me during my difficult period.The two who were in Delhi physically present with me through it all and with whom I took turns to stay with for months on end and my sister from afar praying for me and cheering me up always!

My sister from Dubai too gave me immense strength through it all.As soon as she heard about my diagnosis,she took the next flight and was by my side for the surgery. Then all through my chemotherapy days she kept sending me beautiful scarves and prayer threads and what have you! Twice more she flew down to spend time with me.She is an excellent cook n as we know during chemo the taste buds really go for a toss .She would prepare yakhni and other delicious stuff that would appeal to my palett.It was a delight to have her around whenever she could make it ! Its because of her prayers and best wishes that I stand strong today !

I used to sleep a lot, something that came naturally to me after every chemo. In each cycle, in the first week, I only slept.  The second week onwards, felt a bit stronger. The third week was the golden week when was all ok. My relatives made a ritual of entertaining me on the day before the next chemo. In the safe period, we would go out for a movie followed by dinner. So in this way, I saw six movies and ate in six plush restaurants to mark my six chemos. Perks of being a patient!!

I felt God all around me, as if He had sent these people to lovingly look after me, and all I had to do was to be a little brave and keep my eye on the light at the end of the tunnel.  I thanked God a million times every day for giving me these people to help me through my most difficult times.

I tried my best not to let myself be dragged down by negative thoughts. I used to always go to the temple on the Apollo premises before going in for chemo. It gave me immense strength. A quirky habit I developed was that I wanted a room facing the temple only. That had become my good omen. After two chemos, they knew i wouldn’t take a room on the other side!

After the six chemos were over, I was finally given the go ahead to go back to my home and country to continue with Herceptin for the rest of the year, and then come back for a check-up. In Feb 2018, my last Herceptin was administered. I flew to India end of March and got my check-up done by Dr Manish Singhal, Dr Parag and my dearest Dr Ramesh Sarin, and got the ALL CLEAR signal.

The relief in my heart is difficult to express in words. When Dr Sarin told me I could have my chemo port removed, I was as unbelieving as I was the day I was told that I needed one!

Thank you, Apollo Hospital!

I love my doctors and I love my family and friends, who with the grace of God, brought me to this day where I have left cancer behind….hopefully forever!

 

 

Travel PANIC…..

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 1 Comment

I regret planning a holiday before I leave. And once I am ‘there’ I don’t want to think of home!

So here is a list of things I panic about:

  1. Packing: Have I enough clothes? Have I too many clothes? Have I the right clothes? How do I fit in the walking shoes and the formal shoes and the chappals? Is it going to rain? Do I need an umbrella? Is it going to be cold? Do I have enough woollies? Do I really need them? What medicines should I take? Did I pack my chargers? Am I going to read two books or three? Are the books too heavy?EB301699-D567-4B7B-A138-124C3458A90C
  2. Money: Do I have enough? Do I need all these credit cards? Have I got them safe yet handy? Am I going to lose my money? Are my cards going to get pinched? What is the exchange rate? Shall I change money at the airport or the city? What if I don’t change at the airport and don’t find an exchange easily? Am I going to get gypped?
  3. Documents: Did I put in all the papers I need? Do I have all the hotel contacts, the visa documents, the whatever, the whatever? Have I got copies of all of them? What if I lose them?
  4. Connectivity: Will my phone work? Are the charges going to kill me? Will I be able to regularly access email?

And of course..

  1. Work: Did I forget to do something important? Is what I sent the Boss OK, or is he/she going to want some changes? If so, how will it get done? Is there going to be a crisis just in this one week? Are the skies going to fall?
  2. Home: What about thieves and burglars and break-ins? Do all those wicked people know I am away? Are they watching for a chance? Are they planning for a break-in?

And the most predominant one in my life currently…

  1. Older people: Is my mother going to be OK when I am away? Even if she doesn’t fall ill, is she going to panic herself sick because I am away? What if the doctor doesn’t respond promptly? Does she have all her medicines? Does she have all contact numbers??

But the learning for life, which I have to remind myself about before every trip…..

Crises do break out, but they get managed somehow.

Wallets do get whacked, but there is not much one can do.

We do over-pack and under-pack, but never learn to do better next time.

And we do live to travel another day.

So no point worrying, just go!

–Meena

Yes, you got it right. Just got back from a holiday!

The Train Reached the Station….

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 1 Comment

And all I could see was fire and smoke! Everything outside seemed to be burning. I could hear cries of ‘Allah ho akbar’ and ‘Hey Ram’. There was not a soul on the platform. We and the other newly married couple from our bogey got down. We didn’t know what to do—we just stood there for a few minutes, with all our luggage. I was holding the ‘chumbu’ that had not fitted into any trunk. My veena, wrapped in old sarees, lay at my feet.  I had no clue what was going on. My husband looked worried, but I did not know what he was worried about. We had thought that athimber (my husband’s sister’s husband) would come to the station to take us home. We had heard that there was some trouble in Delhi, and thought that surely he would have arranged for transport. But there was no one there.

Then a porter appeared. He came to my husband and they started speaking in Hindi. I could only understand a few words of Hindi at that time, so I don’t know what they said.

After a lot of discussion, the porter hurried away and returned with a cart of some kind. We loaded all our luggage onto this. But the veena would not fit in—the neck stuck out. So my husband picked it up. I was still carrying the chumbu.

My husband only said ‘Walk fast. Don’t make a noise’.

I could not understand where we were going. We got down from the sloping end of the platform and crossed some tracks and kept walking along the tracks. They were going so fast, I was finding it difficult. I was hungry—the GT was supposed to have reached at 5 o’clock in the morning, but it had reached at 5 o’clock in the evening.

As we walked along, there were houses on the sides. They all looked the same. It was some colony. We saw not a soul on the way. I could not make out whether anyone lived in the colony or they were all empty houses.

It was difficult to manage all the luggage in the cart as we walked over the uneven ground. There were trunks with clothes. Two holdalls. My mother had tied up vessels and kitchen items in old sarees. Then there were tins with different types of sweets and savories. My father had bought a blue glass jar from his lab supplier because I loved them. My mother had filled it with mixture ordered from the hostel. She told me I could use the bottle later to store something in the kitchen. Suddenly the blue jar fell down and broke. Tears came to my eyes, but I did not dare cry. We just kept walking on.

After about half an hour of walking, the porter stopped the cart near one of the houses. He went to the door and knocked softly. Someone looked out of the window. On seeing the porter, he came to the door and opened it slightly. He was dressed like a watchman.

They whispered to each other. Then the porter signaled to us to take the luggage into the house. The house was full of piles of luggage.  The watchman shifted a few pieces here and there and made some space for our luggage. We brought in the pieces one by one and put them there.

I asked my husband in Tamil: ‘Are we going to leave the luggage here? All the silver vessels are here. How can we leave them?’ My heart was sinking. My mother had bought two large oval plates and two tumblers specially for my coming to my husband’s house for the first time.

He just hissed at me to keep quiet. He took the porter and watchman to a corner, said something to them and gave them lot of money. We walked out.  The veena was in my husband’s hands—it was too big and odd shaped—we could not put it in the room. And for some reason, I was still carrying the chumbu.

When we had walked a few minutes, I saw a huge railway water spout gushing water. I ran to it. Only when I started drinking did I realize how hungry and thirsty I was. I drank and drank. Then we walked on. We had now left behind the colony and were in the city. My husband told me there was a curfew on but it was relaxed for an hour and so we had to hurry and reach home. But I didn’t know what a curfew was.  We walked quietly along the side of the lanes.

And then the horror! A man came running from one direction. There was another man chasing him. He caught up with him, and in front of our eyes, he drove a knife into the first man. Blood spurted out. I was going to scream, but my husband clamped his hand on my mouth. The killer pulled the body and threw it into the gutter on the side of the road and ran away. He had not noticed us.

I asked my husband why that man had killed the other one, what was happening? But he just gestured to me to keep quiet and walked on.

By the time we reached home, it was dark. It was not our house, my husband told me. ‘This is Tagore Road. My sister’s house. Our house is in Lodhi Road—too far away.’

We went in. Our brother-in-law was there and 2 other families who were sheltering there because their own areas were not safe. My sister-in-law and mother-in-law had gone to our house in Lodhi Road to get the house ready for us, but had got stuck there.

The ladies welcomed us and did aarti. One of them said ‘Are you hungry? There is some arisi upma we made in the morning. You can have that’. Never had food tasted so good. But there was not much. Even as we were eating this, the ladies started cooking dinner. There was a murungakka tree in the garden. So they made murungakka sambhar and rice. This was the menu for the next three days, both for lunch and for dinner.

In the night, all the ladies slept in one room. We each would keep a cloth with red chili powder in it, and a heavy stone (ammi) or something like that next to our pillows. The ladies told me that if anyone should come into the house, I should throw the chili powder in their eyes. The men would go out in groups and do rounds of the colony. They had piled up stones and reapers across the lane entrance.

I was fifteen years old at that time. The year was 1947.

–Meena

This is the true story of the day my athai (father’s sister) landed in Delhi as a new bride, in the midst of the Partition.

A Life Too Short: A Tribute to Dr. Vikram Sarabhai

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 7 Comments

Today all of us as Indians, and the whole world in fact, see India as a technological power, a force to reckon with. It is easy for us to be confident of ourselves, our technical prowess, and our growing economic power. But in the ‘40s and ‘50s? We were a fledgling nation, and even food security was an issue. Many around the world wondered whether we would survive as a country, as a democracy. And at such a time, there were some people who had the daring, the vision and the confidence, to dream of being a country that would make a difference. One of them was Vikram Sarabhai.

‘Vikram Sarabhai—A Life’ by Amrita Shah tells this story well. It is a book which made me feel proud as an Indian; which said individuals can make a huge difference; which revealed glimpses of what it takes to build institutions of excellence; and which, most importantly said that it is possible to be a wonderful, warm, caring and very human person, and a high-achiever at the same time.

We look around us today—India is launching rockets for developed countries, it is accepted as a nuclear power, it is on the forefront of the IT revolution. But how did we get here? This book gives us some insights. I think this is an important role that a biography plays—being able to connect the present with the historical context, through the achievements and the legacy of one person.

And the book gives us glimpses of other very extraordinary individuals who played a part in Vikram’s life. The book helps one understand the impact that Ambalal Sarabhai or Kasturbhai Lalbhai or Bhabha had on Sarabhai’s work. But though we catch glimpses of the next generation–Dr Kalam, Mr Seshan, Kiran Karnik or Madhavan Nair—we don’t get an insight into how they, as people and professionals, were impacted by Sarabhai. But that’s probably another book!

The book chronicles well the span and breadth of Sarabhai’s achievements—from pure research to scientific administration; from running a pharmaceutical concern to laying the foundation for management education as we know it today; from market research to bringing in scientific approaches to looking at industrial operations; from space to atomic energy.  But what it does even better is to reveal that he set out on each of these diversified ventures with a clarity of purpose and a remarkably unified approach to seemingly very different issues. Sarabhai knew what he was doing. He was not a vain man, but definitely he had no doubts about his ability to take on the most impossible-seeming jobs—even when older and wiser heads thought otherwise. His charm and charisma, which probably helped him overcome many an obstacle, come through. But what also comes through is that his relationship with people was based on a real sense of caring. He did not set out to charm people for what he could get out of them, but probably ended up charming because he was a warm, caring and joyous person who believed in people and respected them.

Vikram the father, Vikram the husband, Vikram the boss, Vikram the son, Vikram the scientist, Vikram the manager—they are all there. Maybe not in depth but definitely outlined evocatively enough to give one a flavour of the person in his multiple roles.

The book is remarkably non-judgmental and matter-of-fact. Though Ms. Shah says that Vikram Sarabhai was a childhood hero and that is why she set about writing his biography, she seems to have been able to resist the temptation to fuzz not-so-pleasant realities. Whether it is his marriage, or his inability to really assert himself and take a firm stand vis a vis individuals in the Department of Atomic Energy, it is told like it was.

I would like to thank Amrita Shah for this biography. We cannot afford to forget our heroes—and Vikram Sarabhai was certainly one of them.

–Meena

Vikram Sarabhai, A Life by Amrita Shah was published in 2007. It is reviewed today to commemorate Dr. Sarabhai’s birthday which falls on 12 August.

The Millennial Matriarchs both count Ahmedabad as home and have worked in institutions which were part of Vikrambhai’s dream. I had the additional good fortune of living on the campus of IIM Ahmedabad as a faculty-spouse. In a large part, we owe what we are to him, albeit indirectly.

Crotchety Me!

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 2 Comments

Knitting. Not my area of natural comfort. The only time I did knit was when I was forced to, back in school. And were those booties and bonnets and ponchos disastrous! My needlework teacher ‘frogged’ them regularly (to fully understand the term, continue reading!).

Then why do a piece on knitting-related terms?

Because a dear friend just gifted me a beautiful crocheted shawl. I have been looking at it all week and appreciating the beauty of the piece, the patience that has gone in, and the centuries of tradition behind it. So here is to my friend Mahashwetha and knitters and crotcheters across the world who bring beauty and warmth (pun intended) to our lives.

CB8E4CC3-FB0E-4E77-8EBB-D9EBB791C477

Since the gift is crocheted, not knitted, we will begin with ‘crotchety’ terms.

Crochet: ‘Crotchet’ is from a very old French word for ‘small hook,’ and the verb means ‘sewing with a hooked needle’. ‘Crotchet’ has been in use in this sense since the 15th century.

Crotchety: By late 16th century, ‘crotchet’ was also being used to mean ‘an odd whim or peculiar notion.’ The logic of this seems to be that strange ideas or unusual behavior are mental ‘twists’! A person with odd ideas and habits came to be described as ‘full of crotchets’ or simply ‘crotchety,’ a term which first appeared around 1847. “Crotchety” is now also used in place of “grouchy”.

Knitting commemorates people!

Cardigan: Knitted jackets or sweaters open down the front have been around for several centuries, but the term cardigan came into use in 1862. The cardigan was named after the seventh earl of Cardigan (a county in Wales) who sported such jackets during the Crimean War.

Raglan: The word raglan also came into use during the Crimean War. It is named after Cardigan’s commanding officer, the first Baron Raglan. During the war, Raglan wore a loose-fitting overcoat with sleeves that extended all the way to the neckline instead of stopping at the shoulder. Originally raglan referred to the overcoat; it now can also refer to the style of sleeve.
And animals too!
Frog: What happens when a knitting project doesn’t go well? Well, a knitter frogs it. Frog is knitting slang for “ripping out” knitting: taking the piece off the needles, and unraveling it quickly. It’s not unique to knitting: crocheters frog their work, and needleworkers also frog stitches that aren’t right.

As well as places…

English knitting: Also called right-handed knitting, this is the method of knitting in which the working yarn in is held in the right hand.

Continental knitting: This is a method of knitting in which the working yarn is held in the left hand.

Knitting terms confuse…

Ravel: The verb ravel can mean “to knit together.” It can also mean “to unspool, unknit, or unravel.” Ravel is a contronym (or Janus word), a word with meanings that contradict each other.
End note

If you thought only music had its own notation, turns out knitting does too! Just to start you off….

BO: bind off (cast off)

CC: contrasting color

cn: cable needle

CO: cast on

dec:: decrease

dpn(s): double-pointed needle(s)

inc: increase

kfb: knit into the front and back of the stitch (an increase)

knitwise: as if to knit

And so on…
–Meena
References:

• http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/crotchety
• http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/crotchet#E…
• https://www.dummies.com/crafts/knitting/designs-patterns/terms-and-abbreviations-used-in-knitting-patterns/
• Terms and abbreviations used in Knitting Patterns. Kristi Porter.

Magnificence—Endangered

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 2 Comments

Not just endangered, critically endangered. We are talking of the Great Indian Bustard (GIB). There are only about 200 birds left in the wild in India, mainly in Rajasthan and Gujarat. There are a few birds still in Maharashtra, Andhra Pradesh, Gujarat, Karnataka and Madhya Pradesh. But they have completely disappeared from Punjab, Haryana, Uttar Pradesh, Orissa and Tamil Nadu.

GIB has been listed as Critically Endangered in 2011 on the IUCN Red List, which means that it faces an extremely high risk of extinction in the wild. When we say that a species is extinct it means that there is not be a single living member left of that species.

The Great Indian Bustard is a magnificent bird, standing about 1 metre tall. Its wingspan is more than 2 metres. It is mostly brown, with a light-coloured head and neck. The distinguishing feature is the black crown on the head. Interestingly although they look closer to ostriches or cranes, most recent research shows that the Bustard family is more closely related to the cuckoo family!

At about 15 kg, it is the heaviest flier in India, but not in the world. The world record is held by a relative, if we may call it that, the Kori Bustard which is found in Africa. The Kori often weighs upwards of 18 kg.

These birds live in wide open landscapes which have sparse grasses and shrubs. They spend most of their time on the ground. Their long legs and front-facing toes help them to run fast. Although they are usually seen striding or running, they also have strong wings and can fly well.

Their diet varies depending on what is available during a particular season. These birds feed on grass seeds, agricultural crops such as groundnuts, millets and legumes, as well as insects like grasshoppers and beetles, and rodents and lizards

They usually breed in the monsoon season which is when food is most easily available. The female scrapes the soil in a secluded place to lay her egg. Generally, she lays only one egg. She incubates the egg for 25 days before the chick is hatched. The exposed egg is always in danger from predators. The mother has to be alert to keep the egg and the new chick safe. The male does not play any part in making the nest, incubation or raising of the chick. It is the Mother GIB who does this alone!

What are the threats? Plenty! GIB can be found in some parts Pakistan also, and there, it is still hunted. There is also some amount of poaching occurring in India. Apart from that, the natural home of these birds is reducing in size. A major cause for this is expansion of agricultural fields and increase in mechanized farming in the areas where the GIB live. This also means that human settlements get closer. Then there other very mundane reasons. Dogs are a major threat to GIBs. As I told you, GIBs lay their eggs on the ground. With the villages so close, dogs often eat the eggs. Also, there has been a huge increase in high tension electric wires in the habitat area. GIBs often dash against these and get electrocuted. They may also get hit by fast-moving vehicles.

Only urgent mission-mode action can save the GIB. Can we let this magnificent bird got the way of the Dodo?

–Meena and Mamata

Reading Word Pictures

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 3 Comments

I am re-reading Markus Zusak’s ‘The Book Thief’, set in Nazi Germany in World War II. It is about a girl who steals books and is fascinated by them, but cannot read too well.

Which got me thinking of the ASER (Annual State of Education Report) test results, which year after year show children in India are simply not reading at the required level. Reading is the most important pathway to learning, and if our children don’t read, they can’t learn.
Which then brought me to techniques for teaching reading more effectively.
Research avers that reading and learning improve if children visualize what they are reading. They not only are able to understand better, they are also able to relate better to the text. But it is not something all children will do automatically. Sometimes, they need to be encouraged and supported in doing this.

Continue reading “Reading Word Pictures” →

Well Spun!

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 4 Comments

Ponduru, a village in Srikakulam, Andhra Pradesh, arguably produces the best khadi in India. Well, at least Gandhiji thought so. He was highly impressed with the fineness of the khadi produced here and preferred it to other khadis. The best dressed (khadi-mode) contemporary politicians even today get their saris, dhotis and shirt material from here.

Ponduru khadi is hand-carded, hand spun and hand woven—truly khadi in letter and spirit.

What makes it special? Well, more than one factor, it seems. For one, the raw material itself is of a special quality—it is made from special varieties of hill cotton and red cotton which are grown in Vizianagaram and Srikakulam districts. For another, Ponduru khadi is very smooth, especially the higher count variety. This is because the jawbone of the Valunga fish found in Srikalkulam is used to comb the cotton  fibers to separate them from the seeds, and the process lends a soft sheen  to the cotton.

21637405-76C9-4CD8-B597-D2A608CB60E3

There was a time when every home in this village had a loom. But like in most of India, the number of khadi workers in Ponduru is falling. The low remuneration is of course a major reason. Those involved in the sector do not want their children to follow them—they would much rather they got a ‘professional’ degree and got a ‘secure’ job.

Fortunately, there are some efforts to improve the situation, including dedicated NGOs working in the sector. Chitrika is one such which has been working closely with the Ponduru khadi sector for over a decade now. They are helping the workers organize themselves into Producer Cooperatives, find newer markets, and improve their capacities. New and innovative designs are being brought in. All this is enhancing the incomes of the weavers, almost doubling them in the last decade.

But without a pull from the market, no government subsidies or NGO efforts are going to lead to sustainable results. An eminent Gandhian once mentioned that if every Indian bought one khadi garment a year, the sector would thrive and all our khadi workers would be able to earn decent incomes.

A small thing to ask! And this is in our hands.

So this piece today is a call to action. We are about a month away from Independence Day. Go out and buy some khadi! It is a practical and easy ‘good deed’ for 15 August!

Buy khadi, and specially buy Ponduru khadi, best of all khadis!

–Meena

 

 

 

 

Up My Wall

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 3 Comments

Of course house lizards must climb my walls in summer. They must eat up the nameless insects and the mosquitoes and the what-nots. I don’t love them, though I respect their role. And the translucent babies are amazingly cute.

Moths must rest on the walls of my room occasionally. Grey, brown, black, white, small, big. Love all of them. Also spiders.

I have found a slug or two climb the outside-wall. Don’t mind too much, though they do leave a yucky trail.

But the one that really stunned me was a tree frog up my bedroom wall, next to a portrait of my mother! The wall of my first floor room, on the side with no window. How did it even get up there? Climb a tree, jump through the open window, hop across the whole room and then climb the opposite wall? Wow!

D1CEBD2F-E21B-44E8-8827-E80D13734C2D

Ten minutes of full-on excitement. Lots of jumping around ( frog, Raghu and me, with the frog winning on agility and grace— hands down, or is it feet down??); screeching (mainly me, not at all the frog);  some sleight of hand with newspapers and a bucket. And we managed to get the frog out safely.

Oh, how boring  life would be without things that climb my walls!

5A9AB48F-7A43-461C-A334-E8B3DC79EE2D

78BE1532-E3D7-4514-93E7-39C5BC5FC5F6

—Meena