Seed Mother Rahibai Popere

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The United Nations has declared 2026 as the International Year of the Woman Farmer (IYWF). This year aims to put the global spotlight on the central roles of women farmers in food security, nutrition, and economic resilience. We begin IYWF by starting with the local, with a salute to a woman farmer who epitomizes these roles through multipronged efforts. 

Rahibai grew up in a poor tribal family in the Ahmednagar district of Maharashtra. Her family had a meagre bit of land which they farmed during the monsoon season, but they had no means of irrigation during the dry months. So the family had to make ends meet by working in a sugar factory for the rest of the year. Poverty and the seasonal migration work prevented the young Rahibai from attending school. She was barely ten years old when she started helping her family with agricultural work. While she worked on the three acres that the family could manage to cultivate, the young Rahibai developed a deep connection to the land. Although only part of the rain-fed land was productive, Rahibai began by creating a farm pond on the remaining part of the land, to harvest the rainfall, and started to grow vegetables which brought the family some additional income. Not long after, Rahibai got married to Soma Popere, another farmer. In her married home, Rahibai continued to experiment, and to explore which crops could thrive best in arid conditions with limited water. As she grew older Rahibai also began to understand more about traditional culture and practice in crop cultivation, wild food resources, and comprehend the importance of agrobiodiversity. She discovered that tribal households traditionally had a backyard where grew multipurpose indigenous trees, shrubs and herbs, and seasonal vegetables. The produce from this supplemented the food and nutritional needs of the family through the year.

Rahibai experimented on her own small area of land, and arrived at her own methods through trial, error and practice. Her efforts led to her being able to productively use her entire small plot of land. The improved four-step paddy-cultivation practice which included use of paddy straw ash in the nursery, increased the yield by 30 per cent. She introduced innovative practices such as cultivation of beans on farm bund. She also learnt to rear poultry in her backyard.

Rahibai’s personal experience led to her strong conviction that it was the native crop varieties that could better resist drought and disease; moreover, they also helped retain soil fertility thereby eliminating the need for chemical fertilizers and excessive water. The native crops also had higher nutritive value. Thus she realized that the conservation of indigenous seeds was paramount.

This was a time when large seed companies were patenting hybrid seeds and aggressively promoting these. These seeds could not be saved for the next sowing season. Farmers were becoming overly dependent on these companies for seeds, and becoming increasingly caught in a debt trap to pay for these seeds. Rahibai also observed that villagers were frequently falling sick after eating food prepared from hybrid crops. She believed that this could be avoided by the use of indigenous seeds.   

Rahibai commenced her one-woman crusade to collect and save indigenous seeds. She started collecting local seeds with the help of other women farmers from Akole taluk in Ahmednagar district of Maharashtra. As the momentum grew, she formed a self-help group (SHG) named Kalsubai Parisar Biyanee Samvardhan Samiti to conserve native seeds. Rahibai started with a nursery of 4,000 seedlings of blackberry and distributed them among members of the self-help group. She then established a nursery of 5,000 seedlings comprising nine types of hyacinth bean, rice, vegetables, beans landraces and shared them with 210 farmers from seven villages across the Ahmednagar district.

Rahibai’s efforts of almost two decades have borne fruit. She has managed to conserve a variety of native crops including 15 varieties of rice, nine varieties of pigeon pea and 60 varieties of vegetables, besides many oilseeds. All this and more, not in a fancy nursery or greenhouse, but a patch of land near her house in the village of Kombhalne. She also encourages tribal families to establish kitchen gardens which can help support their nutritional security.

She has established a seedbank so that other farmers can also avail of these seeds which they do not have to pay for. Rather they are given seeds with the condition that they return twice the quantity of seeds that they borrow. Even seeds which are sold are sold at a lower price than they cost to develop, thus helping farmers save a substantial amount each year. The seed bank distributes 122 varieties of traditional or locally adapted species of plants and crops.

With successful implementation of all that she learnt, Rahibai has now become a crusader. She travels across Maharashtra and beyond to conserve indigenous seeds. She also creates awareness about the importance of indigenous seed conversation and talks to people about concepts such as organic farming, agro-biodiversity and wild food resources. She trains farmers and students on seed selection, techniques to improve soil fertility and pest management among others. She supplies farmers with seedlings of native crops, encouraging them to switch to native varieties. Indigenous seed melas or fairs are organised in different parts of Ahmednagar district to raise awareness about the diversity of seeds and the need to conserve them.

Rahibai has also realized the power of collective efforts. Her first initiative was the formation of the Kalsubai Parisar Biyanee Savardhan Samiti in Akole in Ahmednagar district. The Samiti works towards the conservation and propagation of traditional varieties of crops. Rahibai also heads another Self Help Group, Chemdeobaba Mahila Bachat Gat, in Kombhalne, through which many social initiatives like health camps, supply of solar lamps are organized, besides the agricultural initiatives.

While Rahibai’s efforts are making a visible impact at the district and state level, her efforts have also attracted attention outside. She was among the three Indians on the ‘100 Women 2018’, a list of inspiring and influential women from around the world released by the British Broadcasting Corporation. Her efforts were recognized nationally when she was conferred with the Padma Shri award in 2020.

Seed Mother or Beej Mata as Rahibai is popularly called, continues her mission, bringing a new sense of pride and self-reliance to small local farmers across Maharashtra, and beyond. 

Declaring 2026 as the International Year of the Woman Farmer is not only about celebrating these contributions but also about driving change. Rahibai is a living example of such contributions and about driving change.

–Mamata

Madhav Gadgil: The People’s Scientist Who Helped Win India’s First Environmental Struggle

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Madhav Dhananjaya Gadgil (24 May 1942 – 7 January 2026) was a towering figure in Indian ecology — a scientist, policy-maker, mentor, and grassroots environmentalist whose work reshaped how India understands the links between nature, people, and development. Often called a “people’s scientist,” Gadgil blended rigorous ecological science with deep respect for local communities, popular movements, and democratic participation in environmental conservation.

Silent Valley: India’s First Environmental Movement

Gadgil played a key role in one of the defining moments in India’s environmental history–the Save the Silent Valley Movement in Kerala during the late 1970s and early ‘80s. The state government had proposed a hydroelectric dam project that would have submerged a pristine stretch of rainforest in the Western Ghats, home to unique biodiversity. Local communities, scientists, poets, students, and activists mobilized against the project, marking one of India’s earliest and most influential environmental movements.

While many voices led by the Kerala Sastra Sahitya Parishad (KSSP) contributed to the struggle, Madhav Gadgil’s role was pivotal. His ecological research, field surveys, and clear articulation of Silent Valley’s extraordinary biodiversity helped transform localized protest into a nationwide call to protect forests and biodiversity.

He was a member of the high-level committee set up by the Government of India to take a call on this issue. The multidisciplinary committee was chaired by Prof. M. G. K. Menon, former Secretary to the Government of India. Gadgil served as a member of this expert committee, contributing ecological assessments that highlighted the valley’s irreplaceable biodiversity and the risks of irreversible ecological loss. His scientific input helped strengthen the case against the dam and gave credibility to what was, at the time, an unprecedented challenge to state-led development.

Equally significant was Gadgil’s engagement beyond formal committees. He worked closely with activists and civil society groups, translating complex ecological arguments into accessible language. Silent Valley demonstrated that science could empower people, and that environmental decisions could be contested democratically. The eventual shelving of the project and the declaration of Silent Valley as a National Park marked a watershed — proving that ecological reasoning and public mobilisation could alter national policy.

The success at Silent Valley is widely considered India’s first major environmental movement, catalyzing grassroots activism and inspiring future campaigns from the Narmada Bachao Andolan to forest rights movements across the country. Gadgil’s engagement with activists and communities during this period helped to define the approach for the environmental movement in India — one that bridged science, social justice, and grassroots mobilization. 

Early Life and Academic Foundations

Born in Pune to economist Dhananjay Ramchandra Gadgil, Madhav Gadgil grew up with a curiosity for nature that would shape his life’s work. After earning his Ph.D. from Harvard University, he returned to India and joined the Indian Institute of Science (IISc), Bengaluru, where he founded the Centre for Ecological Sciences in 1983 — one of the country’s first research institutions dedicated to ecology, conservation biology, and human ecology. He helped usher in quantitative and rigorous ecological research in India, while challenging scientists to see humans as part of ecosystems, not apart from them. He has over 250 scientific papers and several influential books.

Championing Community-Centric Conservation

Long before “community participation” became a buzzword in environmental policy, Gadgil argued that local people must be placed at the center of conservation efforts. He believed that traditional and indigenous ecological knowledge — from sacred groves to tribal land management — holds the keys to sustainable stewardship of ecosystems.

Western Ghats and the Gadgil Commission

Gadgil’s commitment to community-centric conservation reached a new peak in 2010 when the Government of India appointed him chair of the Western Ghats Ecology Expert Panel (WGEEP) — later known as the Gadgil Commission. The panel’s 2011 report recommended that nearly 64 % of the Western Ghats — one of the planet’s most significant biodiversity hotspots — be designated as ecologically sensitive areas (ESAs), with varying restrictions on development activities. It emphasised not only environmental safeguards but also community empowerment and sustainable livelihoods. 

Although the report was met with political resistance in several states and its recommendations were later diluted, its bold scientific and ethical vision sparked intense public debate and ongoing legal and civic activism. Subsequent environmental crises, including major floods in Kerala and Karnataka, vindicated many of the panel’s warnings about unchecked development and ecosystem fragility. 

Policy Influence and National Legacies

Gadgil helped shape India’s environmental legal framework. He was one of the key architects of the Biological Diversity Act (2002), which created mechanisms like People’s Biodiversity Registers to document and safeguard local biological knowledge. He also contributed to implementation of the Forest Rights Act, strengthening community claims over traditional lands. His advisory roles included membership on the Scientific Advisory Council to the Prime Minister and various national conservation bodies. 

Honours and Recognition

Gadgil’s work garnered some of the highest honours in science and conservation, including the Padma Shri (1981), Padma Bhushan (2006), the Tyler Prize for Environmental Achievement, the Volvo Environment Prize, and the UNEP’s Champion of the Earth award in 2024 — the United Nations’ top environmental accolade. 

In an age where climate, biodiversity loss, and development pressures intensify, Gadgil’s ethos — that science must serve society and empower its most vulnerable — continues to inspire generations of environmentalists, scholars, policymakers, and citizens alike. 

We are blessed to have had such a dedicated eco-warrior, teacher and scientist.

RIP Madhav Gadgil

–Meena

A Spoonful of Good Luck: Dahi-Cheeni

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It has been the tradition in my family that is most closely associated with my mother. And one that we continue to follow. Giving a spoon of curd and sugar just before any one leaves for an exam, an interview, an important meeting, and embarking on any travel, short or long. My mother never failed to do this, even when she herself could not do so easily, but by reminding us to take it ourselves before we said au revoir.

We sisters always believed that this was something exclusive to our mother and our family, never once wondering where tradition originated, and where and when it began in our family. Then this week I read an article on this very practice, and realized that another family also considered this as a personal family tradition! And that, perhaps there were many others who followed this tradition. A more focussed exploration uncovered that the tradition of dahi-cheeni (curd and sugar) as it is called is not only an ancient one, but is also Pan-Indian! In North India it is a spoon of curd with a sprinkling of sugar, as also in Gujarat. In Bengal it is doi-shinni a mix of curd, sugar and sometimes a bit of banana or jiggery. In Tamil Nadu it takes the form of thayir sadam, the ubiquitous curd rice. I am sure that every state has its own version with some variations on the theme.

This combination features in Valmiki’s Ramayana in the book on Ayodhya Kand, when Sage Bharadwaja offers a sumptuous banquet to Bharata and his army. Among the list of rich foods offered as part of the feast, there is a mention of fresh curds mixed with sugar and spices. Thus it finds its niche While this offering seems too simple as compared to the rest of the meal, it held a great significance, and had its niche in the menu.

Indeed, this simple combination is a trusted part of the ancient holistic health system of Ayurveda where curd (dahi) and sugar (sakara) were considered sattvik, pure life-supporting foods that bring clarity and calm. Charaka Samhita, one of the oldest books on Ayurveda, written over 2000 years ago, mentions curd mixed with jaggery as being refreshing, and helping in alleviating Vata qualities. Ayurveda deals with three doshas: Vata. Pittta and Kapha, which are believed to be responsible for a person’s physiological, mental and emotional health, and categories different foods as having a ‘heating’  or ‘cooling’ effect. With reference to dahi-cheeni it is believed that the curd’s potentially cold nature combined with jaggery’s warmth leads to better digestion and vitality making it a wholesome food. Also while curd can be heavy, adding sugar or jaggery helps to balance it, making it easier to digest. Jaggery provides quick energy while curd offers hydration. Thus the mixture is cooling yet energizing.

If Ayurveda offers a ‘balanced’ perspective to dahi-cheeni, astrology has its own theories wherein consumption of dahi-cheeni before important events is believed to have celestial significance. Vedic astrology believes that the moon is associated with mind and emotions. Consuming dairy products like curd is thought to appease the moon, bringing clarity and emotional balance. Here too, the combination of cool (yogurt) and warm (sugar) is believed to create a balance of energies, aligning with the cosmic balance. Some astrological beliefs suggest that the act of eating dahi-cheeni can help ward off negative planetary influences ensuring a smooth start to important tasks.

A simple tradition supported by ancient schools of thought!

Fast forward to the present. A new age currently obsessed with healthy eating and superfoods. One would have imagined that the humble dahi-cheeni would find no place on the menu (what with its lactose content and wicked white sugar too!!) Surprise Surprise! It finds endorsement again, with a new vocabulary.

What does the combination offer?

Probiotics in curd which promote gut health, alleviate digestive issues, and boost the immune system.

Calcium in curd essential for strong bones and teeth.

Protein content which is crucial for muscle health and overall body function.

Hydration through the high water content in curd, which is crucial for long journeys or along day.

Blood sugar regulation through the protein in the curd which can slow down absorption of the sugar added to the curd, potentially preventing spike in blood sugar.

Yes, all these are much-touted as benefits of curd which has been part of our diet since times immemorial, but reincarnated today as the Superman of Probiotics! And the question arises, will just a spoonful of curd and sugar be enough to wrought such miracles?

Some have sought to explain the dahi-cheeni tradition with a simpler explanation.

Everyone has butterflies in their stomach before an important event. Today this is explained by the ‘gut-brain axis’ wherein there is a close connection between the brain and digestive systems. The butterflies are manifestation of stomach discomfort that is triggered by stress. The probiotic nature of curd can help settle the nervous distress to some extent. The protein in the curd combined with carbohydrates from sugar provide a quick energy boost and enhance alertness, which are needed at the start of a journey, or a day which could be potentially draining (think exam or interview!). Curd also has a cooling effect on the body which can help calm nerves and reduce stress. It is a soothing food that the brain associates with safety and comfort. Thus it can help one to be a bit less ‘hot and bothered’ at the onset of an important event. It is a soothing food that the brain associates with safety and comfort.

These sound more plausible. However, all the ancient texts and contemporary theories seem to miss out on the key ingredient that make dahi-cheeni so special. It is a gesture of love and care; a form of confidence and protection bestowed by loving ones on their loved ones. It is the taste that lingers in the mouth as one steps into a taxi, or into an examination hall, or an interview. It is the flavour that says ‘we are with you, we always wish the best for you, we believe in you’. How much more can be heaped into a single spoonful?  

–Mamata     

Celebrating Meditative Speed: Shorthand Day

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Before we started using ‘idk’ for ‘I don’t know’, or ‘rn’ for ‘right now’ or ‘fr’ in place of ‘for real’, was another type of shorthand. A shorthand that people had to spend months to master–the shorthand used by stenographers, the shorthand considered an essential skill in middle class families in the ‘40s and ‘50s. Beginners could take down dictation at 60-80 words per minute (wpm), while skilled professionals like journalists or court reporters, usually could do 100-120 wpm , with experts reaching 160 wpm+! This was no mean feat, as they had to listen, process, and record all at once.

A Glimpse of a Page from PITMAN SHORTHAND INSTRUCTOR AND KEY

January 4, marked as Shorthand Day or Stenographers’ Day is the birth anniversary of Sir Isaac Pitman, the inventor of the most widely used system of shorthand.  Pitman, born on January 4, 1813, in England, developed the phonetic shorthand system that uses symbols to represent the sounds words make, allowing writers to take notes quickly. His motto was “time saved is life gained”. 

A History in Shorthand

The story of shorthand begins in ancient Greece, where scribes experimented with symbols to capture speeches. But it was the Romans who elevated it into a fine craft. The best-known system, Tironian notes, is attributed to Marcus Tullius Tiro, the freedman and secretary of Cicero. Imagine him in the Senate, stylus poised, capturing the flights of Cicero’s rhetoric in tiny, elegant symbols at a pace that would daunt even today’s stenographers.

After Rome faded, so did shorthand, only to be revived in Renaissance Europe as printing presses and new bureaucracies demanded speed. From the seventeenth century onward, English-speaking countries became hotbeds of shorthand innovation. Each new system claimed to be the fastest, most logical, most “learnable.”

The Many Styles of Speed

Pitman Shorthand (1837)
Perhaps the most famous, , Pitman is all about economy of movement. It uses line thickness and angle—thin for “p,” thick for “b”—and trusts that your hand can switch gears mid-stroke. Generations of journalists swore by it, and some still do.

Gregg Shorthand (1888)
An American rival, and the stylish one. Gregg is curvy, loopy, and feels like it was designed by someone who thought in cursive. It became the favourite of secretaries through much of the twentieth century, taught in business schools and tucked into shorthand notebooks everywhere.

Teeline (1968)
The modern British system, simpler and easier to learn. Teeline keeps only the essential letters, streamlining the alphabet without demanding Pitman’s precision or Gregg’s artistic flourish. Journalism schools still teach it.

Stenotype Machines
And then came the tap-dance keyboards—stenotype machines that look like something between a typewriter and a miniature piano. Court reporters can reach 200–250 words per minute with these, a speed human handwriting simply cannot match. Here, shorthand transforms from strokes to chords: multiple keys pressed at once to create whole syllables or phrases.

Shorthand in India: Many Languages, Many Scripts

While shorthand is often associated with English, India has a surprisingly rich tradition spanning Hindi, Marathi, Tamil, Telugu, Kannada, Bengali, Urdu, Gujarati, and Malayalam. This diversity is driven by India’s multilingual bureaucracy: courts, legislatures, railways, and administrative offices all needed stenographers who could capture speech in local languages at lightning speed.

Hindi and Marathi were early adopters. The Gopal System of Shorthand, developed by Dr. Gopal Datt Gaur in the 1930s, adapted shorthand principles for Devanagari scripts, making it possible to record Hindi and Marathi speeches with remarkable speed and accuracy. In Maharashtra, government offices and the press used both the Gopal system and Hindi adaptations of Pitman, blending classical shorthand speed with local scripts.

Tamil shorthand took inspiration from both Pitman and Gregg systems, translating their principles into Tamil’s script. Training in Tamil shorthand was common among court and administrative stenographers, and many journals and newspapers relied on it to ensure fast, precise transcription. Telugu and Kannada shorthand followed a similar path, mostly adopting Pitman’s phonetic methods but preserving the unique characters and vowel markers of their scripts. In Andhra Pradesh, Telangana, and Karnataka, shorthand exams still train stenographers in these systems, though technology has greatly reduced demand.

Bengali shorthand was adapted from Pitman and, to a lesser extent, Gregg. In pre-Independence Calcutta, it was the lifeline of the High Court and newspapers, allowing reporters and clerks to capture speeches and legal proceedings without missing a word.

Urdu shorthand, tailored for the flowing Nastaliq script, helped stenographers in North Indian courts and administrative offices maintain the rhythm and elegance of spoken Urdu while working at high speed.

Gujarati and Malayalam also developed shorthand variants, often Pitman-based. While they never became mainstream, they are proof that shorthand was not a one-size-fits-all skill, but a highly customized craft.

Shorthand Today: Not Gone, Just Quieter

While shorthand no longer fills classrooms the way it did in the 1950s, it has found unexpected pockets of revival. Hobbyists post their notes online. Court reporters remain a highly specialised and respected profession. Some journalists still rely on Teeline, especially when accuracy matters more than verbatim transcripts. And in India, Devanagari, Tamil, Telugu, Bengali, and Urdu shorthand still quietly exist in government stenography courses and niche professional spaces.

It may be a skill worth picking up in the New Year! There’s the quiet power of having a private script. Many of us have kept diaries in shorthand—half secrecy, half aesthetic pleasure. Those swooping Gregg curves or precise Pitman strokes can turn even a grocery list into a small piece of art.

–Meena

Looking Out, Looking Within

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We ushered out the last year with a resolve to be more giving. To give not only of our material wealth, but equally of ourselves, in whatever form and scale is best suited for each one of us. We resolved to strive towards a deeper purpose, defined by connection. As the New Year dawns, let us consider what this purpose and connection could really be. And for this let us look back at words of wisdom from the past.

Bertrand Russell reminds of our mortality but also that life is not lived by the length of years but by the depth of living.

Make your interests gradually wider and more impersonal, until bit by bit the walls of the ego recede, and your life becomes increasingly merged in the universal life. An individual human existence should be like a river — small at first, narrowly contained within its banks, and rushing passionately past rocks and over waterfalls. Gradually the river grows wider, the banks recede, the waters flow more quietly, and in the end, without any visible break, they become merged in the sea, and painlessly lose their individual being.

Today we live in an age of uncertainty on every front, and are constantly bracing for an imagined catastrophe. Two millennia before this ‘age of anxiety’, Roman Stoic philosopher Seneca counselled about ‘groundless fears’ about the future that keep us from living fully in the present.

What I advise you to do is, not to be unhappy before the crisis comes; since it may be that the dangers before which you paled as if they were threatening you, will never come upon you; they certainly have not yet come.

Accordingly, some things torment us more than they ought; some torment us before they ought; and some torment us when they ought not to torment us at all. We are in the habit of exaggerating, or imagining, or anticipating, sorrow.

And thus we wallow in our imagined sorrows, and impending gloom and doom scenarios. We become increasingly obsessive about ourselves and our interests, and our perceived threatened security. But Soren Kierkegaard, the existentialist philosopher reminded us a century and a half ago:

The unhappy person is one who has his ideal, the content of his life, the fullness of his consciousness, the essence of his being, in some manner outside of himself. The unhappy man is always absent from himself, never present to himself. But one can be absent, obviously, either in the past or in the future. This adequately circumscribes the entire territory of the unhappy consciousness. The unhappy one is absent… It is only the person who is present to himself that is happy.

So what is the formula for happiness? Something as simple as kindness, as Leo Tolstoy reminds us:

Nothing can make our life, or the lives of other people, more beautiful than perpetual kindness.

The kinder and the more thoughtful a person is, the more kindness he can find in other people.

Kindness enriches our life; with kindness mysterious things become clear, difficult things become easy, and dull things become cheerful.

You should respond with kindness toward evil done to you, and you will destroy in an evil person that pleasure which he derives from evil.

Kindness is for your soul as health is for your body: you do not notice it when you have it.

Kindness is a beautiful act of communication. Speech is another. In these times of instant, truncated communication, often expressed through insta images and emojis, are we in danger of reducing human communication to mere exchange of information? In our frenetic texting, are we forgetting that the heart and soul of a message is a relationship between the sender and the receiver? This comes alive through the power of the spoken word. 

Ursula K. Le Guin reminds us:

Speech connects us so immediately and vitally because it is a physical, bodily process, to begin with. Not a mental or spiritual one, wherever it may end… The voice creates a sphere around it, which includes all its hearers: an intimate sphere or area, limited in both space and time.

Sound is dynamic. Speech is dynamic — it is action. To act is to take power, to have power, to be powerful. Mutual communication between speakers and listeners is a powerful act. The power of each speaker is amplified, augmented, by the entrainment of the listeners. The strength of a community is amplified, augmented by its mutual entrainment in speech.

This is why utterance is magic. Words do have power. Names have power. Words are events, they do things, change things. They transform both speaker and hearer; they feed energy back and forth and amplify it. They feed understanding or emotion back and forth and amplify it.

This year, let us remind ourselves to converse with, and among each other, and not at each other.

And as we continue to seek the elusive “happiness” in the year ahead, may the wisdom of Bertrand Russell once more be our template:

Shift focus from self-absorption to cultivating interests beyond oneself; avoid excessive self-analysis; develop a healthy balance of effort and acceptance; engage in meaningful work; foster deep meaningful relationships; develop a sense of humour, and find contentment in spontaneous participation in life’s stream rather than battle the currents and eddies.  

May this year allow us all this and more, enriching our lives in more ways than one.

Happy New Year 2026!

–Mamata and Meena

A New Year, and the Quiet Power of Giving

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The start of a new year is not only a fresh beginning for our personal goals, but also invites a pause to reflect on what really matters. In spite of the wars, the violence and the turmoil there are parts of the 2025 story which are happy, especially the story of how we in India give back.

The recent India Philanthropy Report 2025 — a collaborative effort between Bain & Company and Dasra — offered a thoughtful snapshot of giving across the country. It didn’t just measure how much was donated; it shed light on how giving is changing in character. According to the report, private philanthropy — gifts from individuals, families, and organizations — reached an estimated ₹1.31 lakh crore in FY 2024 and is poised to accelerate rapidly over the next several years.

The EdelGive Hurun India Philanthropy List 2025 also reminds us that India’s giving spirit is alive at the very top levels. Leading philanthropists collectively donated more than ₹10,000 crore last year, with figures rising dramatically over the past few years.

Families are reshaping India’s philanthropic landscape. Where giving might once have been an occasional gesture, it is increasingly becoming a way of life — woven into the rhythms of how families think about purpose and legacy. More than a third of philanthropic households now include intergenerational or next-gen givers whose influence is helping steer funds toward ecosystem building, climate action, and gender equity — areas that were once sidelined in favour of more traditional charitable causes.

This evolution of giving reveals something profound. That there has always been generosity is not to be debated But now generosity in India is becoming more intentional. It’s not just about supporting the familiar or the immediate. It’s about recognizing that the greatest impact often comes from building capacity — strengthening systems, forging partnerships, and investing not just in charity, but in change makers themselves.

Philanthropic journeys are no longer ad hoc, isolated one-off donations, but rather, they are long term commitments. Families — both established and newly affluent — are hiring dedicated staff to manage their giving portfolios, thinking in terms of grant-making and strategic partnerships, and using data and collaboration to guide decisions. It’s a shift from charity to investment. From transactions to transformation.

The sheer breadth of causes gaining traction — education, healthcare, climate resilience, gender equity — reflects a maturing sense of social responsibility.

But I suspect that giving in India is truly underestimated. The true pulse of generosity extends far beyond headline gifts. It lives in the young alumni who pledge to fund scholarships that unlock opportunity. It lives in the professionals who commit a portion of their income to social causes they care about. It lives in the quiet choices families make to support education of their staff, to step in during health emergencies, to support NGOs.

Not just money. I am inspired by an 80 year old who volunteers at government hospitals to help less empowered patients to navigate the system and his 75 year old wife who gives free tuitions; a post graduate student who takes government school students on nature trails over the weekends; a retired professor who motivates college students to undertake plantation drives.

Each one of us is doing it. But it does not get reflected in the statistics, because it often flows through informal channels. If we could count all this, I think the figures would skyrocket far beyond the official ones.

As we step into 2026, perhaps the most hopeful thing isn’t just that giving is growing in size. It’s that we are recognizing that giving in its many forms, isn’t just a response to crisis; it’s a part of how we build the future we want to see.

So if your New Year asks you to think about what you can do, consider what you can givee, not just in money, but in time, attention, skills and compassion. Everyone of us can make a greater difference to the possibility of a better tomorrow — for all of us.

✨ Here’s to a year of deeper giving, rooted in purpose, and defined by connection.

–Meena & Mamata

A Christmas Post Script

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Merry Christmas!

Meena wrote about the Advent Calendar that marked the daily countdown to this day. This tradition has changed over the years to reflect the age of consumerism and commercialization of all things, especially festivals. However, it is heart-warming to find out about a fairly new tradition that transforms this individual household practice into a community celebration.

Pohutukuwa New Zealand’s Xmas Tree

A small village on the Devon Cornwall border in England has started a Living Advent project. As part of this, instead of windows opening out in paper or packages, these are displays in real windows. One day at a time, in the month leading up to Christmas, a window of one house in the village lights up at 17.00 GMT, to reveal a display. The themes are varied and left up to the imagination of the house-owners of the window. The displays are made with great enthusiasm by equally varied ‘designers’,, from children, to senior citizens to professional artists. The result is a warm feeling of being part of a community effort that is enjoyed by all. The idea is catching on. Another village in Cornwall has planned that to take this beyond the window dressing to actually opening up the doors. As part of this, every day one house will open its doors to invite people to a shared meal, a concert, an exhibition, a poetry reading or carol singing, all with a Christmas theme. What a wonderful way to truly celebrate the spirit of the festive season.

That brings us to Christmas day. After the festivities of Christmas Eve, in many parts of the world, this is a day for sumptuous lunches, opening gifts and spending time with family. This is the scenario that is commonly associated with this day.

However, there are many traditions associated with this festival that make for interesting celebrations in different parts of the world. The traditions vary dramatically from place to place, shaped by landscape, history, values and climate. This is a good day to learn about some of these.

Celebrating Spiders: While stars and tinsel decorations are the most common Xmas decorations, in Ukraine it is a spiderweb! Delicate webs are crafted from paper and wire, decorated with spangles and sparkles, and wrapped around the Christmas tree. The practice is associated with a folk tale about a poor woman who had found a pine cone and planted it in the floor of her home. The tree grew well, but when Christmas came, the family could not afford Christmas ornaments. A spider decorated her Christmas tree in the night and the family woke in the morning to find it glittering with silvery webs, and from that day forward, her family was never in need again. Even today, along with the crafted webs, it is considered to be good luck to find a real spider or web on a tree, and these are not swept away during this period. And tiny spiders called pavuchkys maybe be spotted among the tree ornaments.

The Good Witch: If spider webs are reminiscent of Halloween there is a tradition in Italy which is equally so. Christmastime is witching season in Italy. A good witch called Le Befana flies on her broomstick to visit households on 5 January, and stuffs children’s stockings with small goodies to mark the end of the festive season. Why so late? The legend is that Le Befana was housekeeper to the three Magi. So devoted was she to her work that she did not accompany them to the manger, but chased after them later with gifts for baby Jesus. She continues to chase, after Christmas, with her belated gifts!

The Krampus: If Le Befana is a not a wicked witch, the Krampus certainly is a towering hairy monster. A mythic Alpine creature, half goat, half human with goat horns and long tongue, Krampus is the alter ego of St Nicholas who rewards good children with goodies. Krampus is said to visit children on 5 December and punish naughty children with birch rods, or presents of  lumps of coal. Even today the Krampus is a popular part of Christmas celebrations in many Alpine countries including Germany, Austria and Bavaria, when men dressed as Krampus race through the streets.

The Gifting Goat: In Sweden it is Gavle Goat that is the giver of presents. Legend has it that the Norse God Thor’s chariot was driven by two goats, leading to the association of goats with a bountiful harvest. These were later associated with the elves who rode with Santa to deliver presents. Now cities in Sweden erect a tall goat structure made of wood or straw on the first day of advent to signify the spirit of Christmas, and small straw goats are given as gifts.  

Rotten Potatoes: In Iceland it is not goats but the 13 Yule lads that visit homes on 13 nights leading to Christmas. Children place their shoes by the window each night, and receive gifts depending on how they have behaved round the year. Good behaviour is rewarded with sweets, while the less angelic ones find rotten potatoes in their shoes!

While most Christmas traditions are associated with cold snowy climes, we often forget that for half the world, Christmas is a summer celebration! And celebrations are appropriately sunny and outdoorsy.

In South Africa it’s time to picnic in the balmy sunshine with barbeques on braais (charcoal grills).  

In Australia it’s time for the tradition of a family Christmas cricket match. Everyone, old and young plays, and participates, with lots of food, and loads of fun.

In Venezuela people roll up to attend the Christmas mass. Yes literally, following the tradition to arrive at Church on roller skates. Children sleep early so as to get up before dawn, and adults often skate through the night to reach for the early morning Mass. It is a beautiful tradition that signifies not just the destination and the ritual, but also the sense of traveling together and arriving at a common meeting place.

In New Zealand, it is not the temperate fir tree that symbolizes the spirit of Christmas but a native tree that flowers with fiery red tufts in December. This is the Pohutukawa tree. It has been associated with Christmas in New Zealand since at least 150 years, when a Maori leader Eruera Patuone included it in his table decorations for a Christmas feast. The tradition continues and it this tree that evokes the Christmas spirit for New Zealanders.

Today as the world celebrates Christmas in so many different ways, these traditions remind us that the very spirit of Christmas lies in the shared joy of celebrating love, hope, compassion, and peace for all humankind.

–Mamata

Trending for Christmas: Advent Calendars, Elves on Shelves

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ Leave a comment

Time was when December was a time of plum cakes, rose cookies, carols, visiting malls decked up for the festivals, meeting and greeting friends. But of the last few years,  two unlikely stars dominate the Christmas season: the Advent calendar and the Elf on the Shelf. One ancient, one very new—both now deeply embedded in how we count down to Christmas.

A brief history of Advent calendars

The idea of Advent itself is old—older than Christmas trees. Advent, from the Latin adventus meaning “coming,” marks the four weeks leading up to Christmas in the Christian calendar, a time traditionally associated with reflection, anticipation, and restraint.

In 19th-century Germany, families found little ways to help children visualise this waiting period. Chalk marks appeared on doors. Some households lit one candle a day; others hung up devotional images. By the early 1900s, the first printed Advent calendars were produced—simple paper sheets with numbered windows, behind which lay Bible verses or illustrations.

From chocolate to collectibles

Somewhere in the late ‘40s, after the Second World War, when food shortages eased and printing techniques improved, Advent calendars with edible treats became widespread.Behind each window of the Advent calendar waited a tasty treat—a chocolate, a sugar plum, a sweet treat. What began as a teaching aid slowly transformed into something sweeter, more enticing, and with a marketing twist par excellence.

Today’s Advent calendars have undergone a full-blown glow-up. No longer confined to children—or to chocolate—they now house everything from artisanal teas and scented candles to skincare serums, craft beers, cheeses, socks, and even whiskies and dog treats. Luxury brands release limited-edition calendars months in advance, triggering waiting lists and re-sale markets.

This boom is no accident. The modern Advent calendar aligns perfectly with contemporary consumer psychology: daily rewards, unboxing pleasure, scarcity, and the gentle justification of indulgence because it’s the festive season. The whole month of December becomes a ritualised month of consumption—measured, paced, and delightfully guilt-free. And of course, culminating in the frenzy of consumerism, eating and drinking on Christmas day.

Ironically, this commercialisation has expanded the calendar’s appeal. Many adults who do not observe Advent religiously still cherish the countdown. Waiting, once an exercise in patience, is now sweetened—literally and figuratively.

Enter the Elf: Mischief, manufactured

If Advent calendars evolved slowly over centuries, the Elf on the Shelf arrived fully formed—and at speed. Introduced in 2005, The Elf on the Shelf: A Christmas Tradition was a book created by Carol V. Aebersold and her daughter Chanda Bell.

Neither Aebersold nor Bell were established writers at the time. It was a self-published book which went on to become a tradition–giving hope to all us children’s writers who wait in vain to hear from our publishers!. The book-and-doll set was released through their own company and initially sold through small gift shops and boutiques. Crucially, it was conceived not just as a story, but as a complete ritual-in-a-box: a narrative, a character, a rulebook, and a physical object, all bundled together. Only after it caught on—fuelled by word of mouth and parental enthusiasm—did it enter big-box retail and global markets. The story existed to support the ritual, and the ritual supported the product. Marketing genius!

Performance Pressure

The elf’s premise is simple. A magical scout elf arrives in early December, observes children’s behaviour, reports back to Santa, and relocates every night within the house—often leaving behind evidence of mild mischief. Children wake to surprise; parents stay up late staging scenes.The elf reflects a broader shift in how we experience Christmas: from shared tradition to curated spectacle, from inherited ritual to designed experience.

Unlike Advent calendars, which invite quiet participation, the elf demands performance. Parents become set designers, prank engineers, and continuity managers. Social media has amplified this, turning domestic whimsy into a seasonal arms race of elaborate elf escapades.

For some families, this is joyful creativity. For others, it’s exhausting.

And while children adore it, for many households, the elf reverses the equation, becoming less a surveillance tool and more a test for parents– putting pressure on the parents for performance, rather than on the children for good behaviour!

Why these traditions endure—side by side

At first glance, Advent calendars and elves on shelves seem worlds apart. One is rooted in centuries-old religious practice; the other is barely two decades old and unapologetically commercial. Yet they serve the same essential function: they make waiting visible.

Commercialisation is undeniable, but it isn’t the whole story. Families adapt these trends, soften their edges. Some replace chocolate with notes of kindness. Others ditch the elf’s moral policing and keep only the silliness.

Christmas Cheer

Tradition, after all, has always been fluid. So let us welcome all manifestations, old and new. But not forget the spirit of the season: JOY AND GOODWILL TO ALL!

Merry Christmas!

-Meena

Toy Story

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ Leave a comment

Meena’s piece on ‘stupid’ toys resonated deeply as I was recently observing my young grandchild ‘play’ with endless possibilities offered by a discarded cardboard carton and corrugated packing material. From basement parking, a hideaway for stashing precious knicks and knacks, to becoming a bumpy road in a ‘rough road-smooth road’ scenario, the original contents of the package became irrelevant in the light of the child’s imagination, in which a host of exciting make-believe objects took on mind-boggling avatars.

Toys that adults may decry as “stupid” afford hours of enjoyment to a child. A toy is described as an object for play, especially for children, or a miniature replica of something real. Toys could be broadly classified on the basis of the material used, like wooden toys, clay toys, cloth toys etc., or the kind of play that they are used in like pulling toys, rattles, dolls and mechanical toys.

The fascination for such objects is as old as humankind is. The earliest toys were made from materials found in nature such as stones, sticks and clay. Anthropologists have found evidence of such toys dating as far back as there is a record of human life. Such toys have been unearthed at the sites of most of the ancient civilizations.  

India has a long and rich tradition of such toys. The origins can be traced back to the Indus Valley Civilization. A wide range of toys have been discovered during archaeological excavations at different sites in Mohenjo daro and Harappa. These include clay figurines, dolls, carts and wheeled animals, as well as whistles shaped like birds, and toy monkeys which could slide down a string. These were made from locally available material, and many of these have lived on through the centuries, with some changes but retaining their essence. Today these are described as indigenous or ‘folk toys’.

India still has a living culture of indigenous toys. Traditionally these were linked with fairs (melas) and festivals where the artisans would themselves sell their own products.  These toys usually fall in two broad categories—static toys and dynamic toys.

Static toys are those that are basically representational like dolls, figures of animals and birds, and models representing themes of everyday life. Many static toys often become decorative items, while others take on ritualistic associations. These include dolls and figurines of gods and goddesses, people, animals, birds and themes related to our day-to-day environment. They are in a variety of materials, clay, wood, metal, leaves, bamboo, or paper, often using established craft techniques.

Some of these figurines are a key element of the Dussera display in homes in the Southern states during Sankranthi or Navratri. Known as Golu (Kannada), Bommala Koluvu (Telugu) or Bommai Kolu (Tamil) these elaborate displays include a great variety of such dolls collected over generations.

The tradition of making these dolls continues in several parts of India. Colourful Channapatna wooden toys are made by a few families in Channaptna town close to Bangalore and Mysore, who continue a generations old tradition, where the designs and techniques are passed on by word of mouth from parents to children.

Kondapalli toys, lightwood toys painted in vibrant colours are made by artisans in Kondapalli close to Vijaywada in Andhra Pradesh, depicting rural life, mythology, and daily life scenes.

Thanjavur toys from Tamil Nadu are roly-poly bobble headed toys made from papier mache or terracotta.

Asharikandi putola are traditional terracotta figurines of deities, animals and everyday objects, handcrafted by craftsman in a village in Assam called Asharikandi.

Almost every state in India has similar traditions and craftspeople who make such toys, but these are being eclipsed by the surge in mass produced toys, usually made of cheap plastic and often using harmful synthetic colours.

As distinct from Static toys, Dynamic folk toys create movement, change form, and make sounds. Such sensory stimuli are direct and clearly understood—which is the object of the toy. They illustrate simple themes derived from our physical environment. These toys provide simple entertainment and amusement for young children. They are simple in construction, but the design of these toys is based on the application of one or more basic principles of physics—the laws of mass and gravity, centrifugal force, simple mechanics, sound and magnetism. These toys are low cost, made of simple, everyday used materials like paper, cardboard, bits and pieces of wood, bamboo, metal sheets, wire, etc. Most of these are ephemeral in nature, lasting a few hours or days. Their themes are often humorous: a wrestler boxing, two men fighting, a joker dancing, an acrobat somersaulting, a sparrow chirruping and flying, a frog croaking, a bee humming, a horse galloping. All these themes fascinate young children.

Traditionally, such toys were associated with fairs and festivals where one could find vendors selling flutes and whistles, spinning paper wind-wheels, moving puppets, chirruping birds in motion, striking bamboo snakes, crawling paper snakes, rattles and drums, optical illusion toys, and more.

It is visiting such local melas that sparked in Sudarshan Khanna the curiosity to understand more about these objects that were simply considered as “child’s play”. Sudarshan Khanna embarked on a lifelong engagement with folk toys to become a pioneer in toy research and design. Among one of the first batches to graduate from the National Institute of Design in Ahmedabad, and later as faculty there Sudarshan Khanna attended mela after mela, collecting, researching and documenting indigenous toys. He was fascinated that the makers of these toys were not formally trained engineers nor designers but they understood the mechanisms and design processes perfectly. Their products were usually eco-friendly, and always child friendly! These observations led him to encourage his ‘official’ design students to also work on toys as products, while he headed the Toy Innovation Centre at NID, one of the very few centres that offered formal programmes in toy making and design. Sudarshan Khanna’s documented work and his workshops and talks have contributed significantly to the revival in interest and conservation of folk toys.

Also a reminder that toys do not necessarily need to be ‘state-of-the art’ products, ordered online, and delivered packed in endless layers. Merry Christmas!

–Mamata

Stupid Toy Day? Makes No Sense!

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ Leave a comment

Every year on December 16, the internet celebrates something most households have tripped over, stepped on in the dark, or quietly wished would disappear: the “stupid toy.” Officially, it’s called Stupid Toy Day—a day devoted to toys that serve no obvious purpose, promise no educational outcomes, and stubbornly resist all attempts at being “enriching.” They do not teach coding. They do not build emotional intelligence. They simply… exist.

A “stupid” toy, as the internet defines it, is not broken or unsafe. It’s just inexplicable. It does one odd thing. It refuses to justify itself. It looks faintly ridiculous. Pet Rocks. Rubber chickens. Slime. Talking dolls that say things no one programmed on purpose. Lights that flash for no reason at all.

And honestly? That’s exactly why I think there is no such thing as a stupid toy. Because anything that gives joy to a child and it wants to spend time playing with, is a good toy! Whether store-bought, found at home or contrived from the most mundane things, whatever floats a child’s boat, is a toy. Entire generations have grown up playing with objects that contributed nothing measurable—and yet somehow contributed enormously to childhood.

The thing about calling a toy stupid is that the word never really belongs to the object. It belongs to the adult standing next to it and judging it.

When parents complain about “stupid toys,” they rarely mean toys that fail the child. They mean toys that fail them. Too loud. Too sticky. Too impossible to clean. Too bright. Too many pieces. Too much glitter. Too much slime. Too much mess. Too much noise. Too much… joy, possibly, expressed in a form that requires major clean-ups. Seems to me, most “stupid” toys are simply inconvenient toys. Toys which seem pointless to an adult.

AN ARVIND GUPTA TOY

But to my mind, there is one category of toys that are stupid. A toy becomes exponentially more “stupid” the minute it costs a small fortune. A plush animal that costs as much as a phone. A doll with a wardrobe bigger than yours. A remote-controlled something that breaks in three days. High price and low value—what could be stupider?

Brian Sutton-Smith’s work on toys and play is powerful. In Toys as Culture, he argues that toys don’t live in one neat category like “fun” or “education.” They exist in overlapping worlds—family, technology, education, and marketplace. Toys can be consolation, security and companionship. They can be tools, machines, friends, achievements. They are not just objects; they are emotional support.

A glitter jar might look like a mess waiting to happen.
To a child, it might be the universe in a bottle.

A noisy toy might feel like an assault on adult nerves.
To a child, it might be power.

A useless toy might be, in truth, a deeply useful one—the kind that absorbs loneliness, invents stories, and makes space for imagination.

We forget that children do not play with toys to improve themselves. They play to live inside themselves.

And children by themselves never measure toys by price or return on investment. But sadly, there is no refuting that peer pressure and media pressure have enormous influence on a child perceiving a toy as highly desirable. And that is a worry.

Stupid Toy Day, at its best, quietly reminds us that joy doesn’t require justification. It doesn’t need a developmental framework or a learning outcome chart. Play is not a performance. It is a state of being.

Basically, Stupid Toy Day is STUPID!

Honour the toy that made no sense but means everything. And remember: not everything precious needs to be practical. And in this holiday season, as we go about buying things left and right, remember, a child will be as happy playing with the cardboard carton as the toy which was packed in it. Remember Calvin, Hobbes and their time machine? And Arvind Gupta’s Toys from Trash? Money does NOT equal toy-joy.

–Meena