A Coastal Ride

Kaustubh Khade has just completed a 3000 kms trip on a kayak, accompanied by his girlfriend, Shanjali Shahi, who followed him, by land, on a cycle

By Shevlin Sebastian

As kayaker Kaustubh Khade, 30, approached Manjeshwar harbour, at Kasaragod, in north Kerala, recently, he waved to a couple of people travelling on other boats. They waved back. But suddenly a fishing boat came from behind and a man tried to throw a rope across the kayak. “I was thinking, 'What is he trying to do?'” Kaustubh immediately told him, “Boss, I'll do whatever you want, but do not tie my kayak.”

So the fisherman called the marine police and passed the phone to Kaustubh. “When I told them why I was here, they told the fisherman to leave me alone,” says the kayaker. But to ensure that there would be no further problems, Kaustubh stepped on shore and went to the police station. “The cops were really sweet,” says Kaustubh. “We ended up taking photos. They told me that a few fishermen had been told to keep an eye out for unusual visitors.”

The Mumbai-based Kaustubh had set sail on November 17 from the town of Dwarka, in Gujarat, the home of Lord Krishna. The aim: to cover 3000 kilometres, along the western coastline, in 100 days. He went past six states: Gujarat, Maharashtra, Goa, Karnataka, Kerala, Tamil Nadu and the Union Territory of Diu.

On the journey, nicknamed 'Conquer The Coast', Kaustubh was accompanied by his girlfriend, Shanjali Shahi, who was riding a German-make bycyle, 'Schwinn Searcher'. She rode along the coast, and went from beach to beach. If there was an internal route to the next beach, she took that, or returned to the highway. She did an average of 50 to 80 kms a day, while Kaustubh did about 40 kms.

“During long stretches of the day, I would be out of sight of Kaustubh,” she says. “But we were always in touch by mobile phone.” Incidentally, for safety's sake, Shanjali was followed by a car and driver.

The couple had a specific agenda. “India has a 7,500 kilometre-long coastline, and we need to protect it,” says Kaustubh. “Very few people know about its beauty. We are also raising funds for a Mumbai-based NGO called Magic Bus. The members work with underprivileged children through sports. By playing games, children learn about gender equality, cooperation and fair play.”

As for Shanjali, she wants to inspire Indian women to go out, explore and have adventures. “Right now, most women are worried about their safety, especially in the rural areas,” says Shanjali. “So I tell them they should venture out in a planned and careful manner. There is no need to hide indoors.”

Along their journey, which concluded on February 7, at Kanyakumari, people have shown their appreciation. Says Kaushiq Kodithodi, who runs the Jellyfish Water Sports Club, at Kozhikode: “Both Kaustubh and Shanjali met with local youngsters and encouraged them to try kayaking, cycling and other activities. Unfortunately, adventure tourism is yet to become popular in Kerala. But I am sure they will serve as an inspiration.” 

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

School Of Thought

As Susan Varghese Cherian retires on May 9, as the Principal of the Rajagiri Public School, at Kochi, after a 18-year-stint, she reflects on her career

Photos: Susan Varghese Cherian by Albin Mathew; the Rajagiri Public School 

By Shevlin Sebastian

On a recent summer morning, Susan Varghese Cherian sits behind a large desk at her office in the Rajagiri Public School at Kalamaserry conferring with a teacher. She is wearing a bright maroon and green saree, a black necklace around her neck, and her hair is neatly pinned back in a bun. This is her 18th year on the job as principal of one of the leading schools in the state. But after an illustrious stint, she is retiring on May 9.

So, naturally, the 60-year-old is in a reflective mood. “Rajagiri has got a very capable set of teachers,” she says. “They can manage the institution even without a principal.”

But Susan is being modest. There is no doubt that she has commendable leadership skills. As a result, she has maintained her popularity among the staff, as well as the students.

For her recent birthday, the Class 12 students arranged a surprise get-together. They spent a day at Valsalyam - a home for abandoned babies. “It was a moving experience,” says Susan.

As for her method of leadership, Susan says, she tries to understand the teachers in a deep way. “It is important to find out what they are they good at, and then allow them to flourish,” she says.

Very early in her tenure, Susan told the teachers that whatever they wanted to say, they should say it in front of her and not behind her back. “Even if it is something which I do not like,” she says. Importantly, Susan always ensures that she never scolds a teacher in front of the others. “It is a big humiliation for an adult or even a child if you do that,” she says.

Her empathy must have come from her upbringing, in Delhi, as the daughter of a biology teacher, Sosamma while her father, Chacko, worked for a government oil company. Susan did her M.Sc from Delhi University as well as her B. Ed. Some of the places she worked included the National Museum of Natural History in Delhi, the St. Thomas school, at Patna, the Naval Public School in Kochi, where she became the Vice Principal and then as principal of the Rajagiri Public School, which has a student strength of 1700 boys and girls.

Having seen so many generations of students, Susan is keenly aware of how the students have changed. “They get a lot of opportunities these days and have become more confident,” she says. “Most are willing to express themselves, as compared to earlier generations. And there is a lot of critical thinking. They no longer accept passively whatever we say.”

Thanks to numerous co-curricular activities, students know their strengths by the time they are in Class 11 or 12. “They are willing to pursue what they feel they are good at, irrespective of what their parents or teachers tell them,” she says.

But there are negative attributes also. Many are addicted to their mobile phones and laptops. “They are whatsapping each other all the time, although this does not happen in school, because we have banned mobile phones,” says Susan.

Meanwhile, as her career comes to an end, Susan cannot help but remember the school director with whom she worked the longest: Fr. Austin Mulerikal. “Fr. Austin had a big impact on me,” says Susan. “He was a perfectionist. So we were always geared to do things in the best way possible. Secondly, he would always support us, emotionally and materially, on new projects. In lots of ways, he helped me to grow inwardly. And I thank him for that.”

Words of praise

As a person who had the unique privilege of working with Susan for twelve years, I have no hesitation to say that she made a very big contribution in making the institution what it is today. She had genuine concern for her staff. Her relationship with the students was really cordial but she could also be tough in matters of discipline. We could always notice nobility in her words, deeds and demeanour. She is a graceful person with an infectious smile.

Fr Austin Mulerikal CMI, Former Director

Susan Maam is a great mentor who always magnifies the strengths of others.

Parimal Paul, teacher

Susan Maam possesses a pleasant disposition, and reverberates a sense of positivity wherever she is!

Sherin Shaju, senior teacher

“Susan ma'am has been Instrumental in the steady rise of Rajagiri public School ever since she took over as Principal. I appreciate her willingness and humility to ask for ideas when not in the know of starting a new venture.

Suma Dan, teacher 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

Praised By Priests And Nuns

COLUMN: LOCATION DIARY

Producer Sophia Paul talks about her experiences in the film, 'Munthirivallikal Thalirkkumbol'

Photo of Sophia Paul by Albin Mathew 

By Shevlin Sebastian

For the pooja ceremony for 'Munthirivallikal Thalirkkumbol' at Kozhikode, in June, 2016, director Jibu Jacob invited his Kottayam-based uncle Fr. Joffie Puthuva to say the prayers. “I was very happy when Fr. Joffie came,” says the film's producer Sophia Paul. “I had met him earlier at a function at Jibu's home in Njarakal and we got along very well.”

However, a week later, the priest was travelling with a boy on a motorbike, in Thuruthy (Changanacherry). A sand-laden lorry overtook him, but it collided with a vehicle coming from the opposite direction. As a result, sand fell on the road and Fr. Joffie lost control of his bike and hit his head against a post. He was taken to a hospital where he died, while the boy sustained only minor injuries.

“Jibu was very close to his uncle,” says Sophia. “So, when he received the news on the set, at Kozhikode, he became extremely upset. He started crying and could not work any more. It was a big shock for me, too.”

Then a few days later, an unit vehicle was going towards the shoot location at Kozhikode. “A couple were travelling on a scooter,” says Sophia. Suddenly, another vehicle hit them from the back. The two-wheeler skidded and the woman fell in front of our vehicle. It was so sudden that the driver had no chance to apply the brakes. The car ran over the lady, and she died instantly.

The film's shoot was done mostly in a housing colony at Bilathikulam. And soon, the crew came to know of a very old lady, who was a favourite among the residents. “And then, suddenly, she died,” says Sophia. “This was also a shock.” To show solidarity and respect, the shoot was cancelled for a day.

However, there were light moments, too. One day, Sophia had gone, with production controller Sreekumar, to monitor a mock panchayat being set up in the colony. The art director Ajayan assured Sophia that the set would be ready on time.

Suddenly, Ajayan's assistant, Sukubas Kumaran said, “Madam, you don't play Candy Crush any more?”

Sophia looked shocked. (Candy Crush is a game which you play on Facebook [FB]. To move to a different level, you can take the help of others, so that you can continue to play the game).

Sukubas said, “I am your FB friend and whenever you wanted help in Candy Crush, I would do so.”

Sophia had not known that Sukubas was her FB friend and had helped her. “It was so amusing,” she says, and laughs at the Crowne Plaza, Kochi.

Meanwhile, 'Munthirivallikal Thalirkkumbol' was released in January. Then, one day, Sophia got the surprising news that a nun, Sr. Lizzy Chakkalakal took the students of Class 8, 9 and 10 of the Our Lady's School at Thoppumpady, Kochi, to see the film. (The story is about how Mohanlal, who plays a middle-class husband and father, in a stagnant marriage, falls in love with his wife again and has a better relationship with his children).

It was after this that Sophia got the idea of getting the clergy interested in the film. So, a special screening was organised for Cardinal George Alencherry, several bishops, priests and nuns. “Soon the priests began to talk about the film in their Sunday sermons,” says Sophia. “Suddenly, in the Christian belts in Kerala, there was a huge increase in the audience. This was one of the reasons why our film became a superhit.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi, Thiruvananthapuram and Kozhikode) 

People And Buildings

The Dutch-based photographer Iwan Baan talks about his work, during a recent visit to Kochi

Photos: Iwan Bahn by Jonas Ericksson; a Chandigarh scene 

By Shevlin Sebastian

When the Dutch-based photographer Iwan Baan arrived in Kochi, the heat him so hard, he had to mop his face several times with a handkerchief. But he adjusted quickly, as he delivered a talk, organised by the Indian Institute of Architects, Cochin Centre, at the Bolgatty Palace.

But this was not Iwan's first visit to Kerala. Five years ago, he had come to take photographs of the buildings made by the late architect Laurie Baker. “He was an architect who did amazing things, with minimal means,” says Iwan. “I found it very appealing.”

Asked to describe the buildings in Kochi, he says, “In tropical climates, nature grows so fast around concrete structures,” says Iwan. “There is a kind of exuberance and an openness to buildings.”

In fact, Iwan's next book is on Bangladesh, which has a similar climate like Kerala. In August, he is planning to spend three weeks in Bangladesh during the middle of the monsoons. “The water and the monsoon play an important part in how people construct their buildings,” he says.

Iwan is known the world over as being one of the earliest to focus on people, rather than on buildings, as most architectural photographers did. “I wanted to tell stories about a place through the people, as well as the buildings,” he says. “Why is the structure in that particular location? How does the city evolve and change around it? Who are the people who live near it? And in it?”

Thus far, he has taken photos in places as diverse as the Western Sahara, Peru, United Kingdom, USA, Australia, Bahrain, Lebanon, Taiwan, Brazil, Scotland, Azerbaijan, Mexico, China and India.

In India, he has shot in Delhi, Mumbai, Varanasi and several other places. “Tradition plays an important part in the construction of buildings in India,” he says. “And that makes it fascinating.”

Interestingly, when Iwan goes to a new place, he does not do too much of research. “That's because I like to look at a place with the freshness of a child's eye,” says Iwan, who passed out from the Royal Academy of Art in The Hague.

For his work, Iwan uses a Canon EOS-ID X Mark 11 because he prefers a smaller camera. Thus far, his output has been much appreciated. Iwan is the recipient of the inaugural Julius Shulman award for photography (2010) as well as the Stephen A. Kliment Oculus Award given by the American Institute of Architects last year. His work has been featured in prestigious magazines and newspapers like 'The Wall Street Journal', 'The New York Times', and the 'Architectural Digest'.

Regarding the qualities needed to be a good photographer, Iwan says, “You should have an endless curiosity about people and places. There is always something new to see. And you should have an urge show it to the world. In other words, you need a tremendous passion for the job.”

Which Iwan also possesses. And his incessant travels have given him a sharp insight about people. “What I have observed is the unquenchable thirst for life among ordinary folks,” he says. “They want to make the most of what they have, even under difficult circumstances. When you show interest in their cultures, people are quick to invite you into their homes. This type of hospitality is universal. As a result, I have been blessed with so many unforgettable moments.” 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

Bonhomie Beyond Borders

‘Lyari Notes’ is a documentary about four girls, who live in a suburb of Karachi, and try to learn music among the violence and mayhem

Photos: Filmmakers Maheen Zia (left) and Miriam Chandy Menacherry; the poster of the film

By Shevlin Sebastian

‘Someday I will see,

So will you,

When bread will become cheaper,

And life will be precious,

Such a day will surely come for Pakistan’

These lyrics are part of a song sung by a group of children, at the Music Art and Dance (MAD) school at Karachi, while principal Hamza Jafri smiles indulgently. This is a scene from the documentary, ‘Lyari Notes’, which was shown recently at the Kochi Muziris Biennale.

The film is about the lives of four girls, Aqsa, Mehroz, Sherbano and Javeria, who live in one of the most violence-prone areas of Karachi called Lyari. And even as they dodge bullets and mayhem, they try to learn music at the MAD school.

You know 'Lyari Notes' is an unusual film, when, in the beginning credits, the words, 'An Indo-Pak Production' can be seen. And it is indeed a collaboration with the Mumbai-based documentary film-maker, Miriam Chandy Menacherry and Maheen Zia of Karachi.

But what was even more usual was that they never met till one-and-a-half years into their partnership, and, that too, in Holland, because the film was co-funded by the International Documentary Festival of Amsterdam. So Maheen would shoot in Lyari and send the rushes to Miriam and she would edit it. “Both of us felt that if I went to Lyari, it would be a big distraction,” says Miriam.

The idea for the film came when Miriam, a music buff, happened to see songs of Pakistani underground artists on You Tube and found it very political and saucy. One which became a viral hit was ‘Aalu Anday’ (‘Potato and eggs’), which was sung by the Lahore-based 'Beygairat Brigade'. “The song was a lampooning of the political system, as well as the military,” says Miriam.

And another artist that Miriam came across was Hamza. “He also had put up videos making hard-hitting political statements,” says Miriam. “Then I came to know that Hamza runs a music school and that became the starting point for the film.”

It is a moving film and touches on a host of subjects: whether music is acceptable in Islam, the massacre of 132 children at the Army Public school in Peshawar by the Taliban on December 16, 2004, as well as discussions about the impact of Malala Yousafzai winning the Nobel Peace Prize in 2014.  

Regarding the film’s message, Miriam says, “We wanted to represent the voice of the silent majority. The news out of Pakistan in the mainstream media is always about guns and violence. We wanted to capture the everyday life of people, even as they get caught up in the violence around them.” 

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

The End Of The Road

At a discussion on death and dying, at Fort Kochi recently, participants aired their fears and concerns

Photo: Dr. Suresh Kumar 

By Shevlin Sebastian

When yoga expert Nuthan Manohar saw a Facebook post mentioning a talk about dying and death, at Fort Kochi, she was keen to go. “I found the subject fascinating,” she says. “After all, every breath you take is bringing you closer to death. You need to think about it, because most of us live in denial of death.”

The discussion on death and dying was moderated by Dr. Suresh Kumar, one of the leading lights of palliative care in Kerala and the Founder-Director of the Institute of Palliative Medicine in Kozhikode, a World Health Organisation Collaborating Centre. He is also a Honorary Senior Research Fellow at the University of Bradford, UK, as well as a Ashoka Fellow.

Interestingly, when Suresh asked the audience which death touched them the most recently quite a few, including Nuthan spoke about the death of animals.

Nuthan had two kittens, Hedley and Unda. She had taken them to a vet's clinic, for grooming. However, owing to the presence of infected cats, both her kittens contracted the parvovirus and died within days. “I couldn't understand why something so innocent and powerless had to die so painfully,” says Nuthan. “What was God’s role in this?”

Suresh is not surprised by Nuthan's reaction. When asked about the reaction of terminally-ill patients, Suresh says, “Many of them have questions about the meaning of their life. It is a time when they take stock. They think about the issues they want to settle before they leave. Sometimes, they think, 'Is it okay to die?' If a person is a young father, then it is a painful feeling that he will not be there, for his wife and children. Some will think, 'What will happen to my bank balance and all the possessions that I have acquired? What will happen to me in the afterlife?'”

There are other concerns, too. Do you want a life support system, or do you prefer to die at home? Do you want to be cremated or buried? Has it been discussed? “One participant said that her father did not want any rituals,” says Nuthan. “But after his death, this request was ignored by the family and all the rituals were done.”

Interestingly, very few people say that they are afraid of death. “They will call it a worry or concern,” says Suresh. “A fairly good percentage feels remorseful about certain things they did in their life. They want to make amends, although it may be late. They tell me, 'If I get another six months, I will do things differently'.”

Meanwhile, the good news is that, in terms of palliative care, Kerala is way ahead of the rest of the country. “Out of 1500 centres in India, 1300 are in Kerala,” says Suresh. “Kerala is one place where the common man is involved in the care of dying people.” Suresh is also running similar projects in Puducherry, West Bengal and Manipur, as well as Indonesia, Thailand, Sri Lanka, and Bangladesh.

Asked about his own experience at viewing death so often, Suresh says, “It reminds me of the fragility of life. It tells me that my time is limited. I will be taking the same path tomorrow or after a few years. It is only a matter of time. So, each moment counts. I tell myself, ‘When I die, I should have minimum things to regret’.”

As for what happens after death, a stoical Suresh says, “I don't believe anything happens after death. I am a non-believer. Life ends. That is all.” 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram) 

Obedient Snakes And Hyper-Active Monkeys

COLUMN: LOCATION DIARY

 

Cinematographer Saloo George talks about his experiences in the films, 'Kashmeeram', 'Thaniyavarthanam' and 'The Guard'

Photos: Saloo George taken by Melton Anthony; the poster of 'Kashmeeram'

 

By Shevlin Sebastian

 

For the film 'Kashmeeram', there is a fight between Black Cat commando Suresh Gopy and his team against a group of criminals at the back of a house.

 

The shoot was in Delhi. But try as they might, the crew could not get a house for shooting. Because it was during the days following the assassination of Rajiv Gandhi at Sriperumbudur on May 21, 1991. “There was enormous tension in Delhi,” says cinematographer Saloo George. “So, finally producer Suresh Kumar got in touch with his friend S Krishna Kumar, the Union Minister.” The latter agreed to the shoot although he said he would not be there, but his wife Usha would be present.

 

“The shoot was at night,” says Saloo. “Soon, there were gun fights and bombs going off. After a while, without us realising it, the whole area was surrounded by police, who had automatic machine guns. They thought that the minister's bungalow was under attack.” Finally, Usha had to come out and tell the cops that a film shooting was taking place.

 

Suddenly, one of the assistants, Rony Shashi (name changed) decided to place the dummy guns in a car parked outside. As he was doing so, he was spotted by another group of policemen. “Rony was seconds away from being shot,” says Saloo. “Quickly, the production controller, who speaks Hindi, managed to explain the situation and resolve the issue peacefully.”

 

Another issue which was settled peacefully took place in the movie, 'Thaniyavarthanam' (1987), which stars Mammooty. The shoot took place in the 40-room bungalow which belonged to the family of Sreedevi, the mother of the late actress Monisha Unni. The actor's uncle, Unni stayed with his wife and two children in just four rooms. At the back of the bungalow, the canteen was put up. “One day, the cook came running,” says Saloo. “He said he cannot cook in the area because it was full of snakes. Unni immediately said there was nothing to worry.”

 

He went to the back, spotted the snake and said, “Gopalakrishnan, go away. Don't frighten these people. Let them work in peace.”

Amazingly, the snake looked up and left quietly. Unni had names for every snake in the vicinity. Another day, when another snake came, Unni said, “Ramakrishnan, stop being a nuisance. Go away.” And once again, the snake left.

 

“Unni said that snakes will never attack you unless you try to kill it,” says Saloo.

 

That may be true, but not all are comfortable in the presence of snakes or animals. The shoot of 'The Guard' (2001) took place at the Parambikulam Wildlife Sanctuary in Tamil Nadu. Kalabhavan Mani was the star in the film. After the day's shoot was over, he was offered a room in a tree house. “It was at a height of 30 feet,” says Saloo. “You climb a ladder, and, later, it is removed. Otherwise, certain animals could climb up.”

 

However, when Mani went to sleep, at about midnight, the flush started working on its own. Mani got up and checked the bathroom. There was nobody around. But he could see the water moving in the cistern. Mani tried to sleep, but the flush started working again. Soon, he could hear other sounds: the growl of tigers, the howl of jackals and the roar of elephants. Not surprisingly, Mani could not go to sleep. “Later, Mani began to sleep with us in the dormitory,” says Saloo. “The local guards later told us that sometimes monkeys entered the bathroom in the tree house and operated the flush themselves.” 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi, Thiruvananthapuram and Kozhikode) 

A Daughter Remembers

Uma Padmanabhan, the only child of the late artist KG Subramanyan, talks about her father. A month-long exhibition of his works is taking place at Kochi

Photos: Illustration of KG Subramanian by Sai Nath; Uma Padmanabhan; photo by Melton Antony

By Shevlin Sebastian

When the father and daughter stepped out, after watching the circus, along with a Dutch piano teacher, it was snowing heavily. So they walked silently, the 10-year-old holding her father’s hand. After a while, even though the street was deserted, they managed to get a cab. They dropped the piano teacher at her residence before they headed home, to Lincoln Towers, in New York. “This is a fond memory of my early childhood,” says Uma Padmanabhan, the only child of the famed artist K G Subramanyan (1924-2016), who won the Padma Vibhushan in 2012.

Thanks to a Rockefeller Foundation grant, Subramanyan was spending the year, 1966-67, in America. So, Uma studied at a school in New York. And it was there that Uma realised that her father was an artist. “Appa was doing drawings on egg cartons,” says Uma. “He also did acrylic paintings, tapestry work and fibre weaving. I was seeing this for the first time.”

The Baroda-based Uma had come to Kochi to attend the inauguration of her father’s one-month long exhibition (till May 19) called ‘Sketches, Scribbles, Drawings’ at the Durbar Hall. There is a poignant look on her face as she gazes at her father’s work. “I enjoyed the animals that he drew,” says Uma. “He has also done portraits of me, but that is now with an art collector.”  

When her mother Susheela Jasra, an artist as well as a Gandhian social worker, passed away on February 28, 2005, it became Uma's responsibility to look after her father. So, she would spend two weeks with her husband in Mumbai and the rest of the month in Baroda. “Whenever I would come back, I would be amazed at the number of sketches and canvases Appa had done,” says Uma.

One reason for Subramanyan's prolific and varied output – paintings, sculptures, drawings, graphics and illustrations – was because he led a disciplined life. Every day, after breakfast, he would enter his studio at 9.30 a.m. For the next several hours, he would work, before breaking off for lunch. Following a nap, he would return to the studio by 3.30 p.m. He stopped work at 5 p.m.

“At night, he would do something or the other,” says Uma. “It could be either scribbling, or writing poems.”

Father and daughter would have long conversations. And he passed on to Uma his philosophy of life. “Appa told me to avoid gossiping or criticising people,” says Uma. “He should I should be friendly with everybody and help them.”  

Subramanyan, himself, had a helping attitude. When young artistes would come to the house, he would be friendly, co-operative and encouraging. And when they held their exhibitions, he would always attend them.

So, it is no surprise that the passing away of this artistic icon has left a vacuum in Uma's life. All the people who would come to meet Subramanyan, at their bungalow at Sama have stopped coming. They ring Uma up and promise to come, but none of them do. “The world is selfish,” says Uma. “It is more so in the art fraternity. People became friendly with my dad because they felt they could gain something. Most of them were not sincere.”

Meanwhile, recently, Uma went through a poignant moment. While cleaning a cupboard, she came across a brand-new saree that her father had bought her and which she had not used. “Tears started rolling down my face, as I remembered Appa,” she says. 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

Highlighting Nutritious And Healthy Food

The book, 'First Food: Culture of Taste' focuses on traditional Indian food

Photos: Vibha Varshney (left) and Sunita Narain; the book cover. Pics by Albin Mathew 

By Shevlin Sebastian

Every morning, the Kolha and Santhal tribals of Mayurbhanj in Orissa pluck chakedopaah (pennywort). Then they prepare a chutney and have it with their breakfast of watered rice. The tribal belief is that a few leaves a day enhances memory and checks body tremors among the old.

Meanwhile, members of the Lingayat community of Karnataka take the leaves of the narale (grape family) and make a chutney. Elderly people in the community believe that the chutney consumed once a year prevents cough and stomach infections and strengthens muscles and bones.

When food and nutrition consultant Sangeeta Khanna got married, she noticed her mother-in-law boil the leaves of the parijaat (night-flowering jasmine) to make kadha (a herbal mixture) to ease the pain in her joints.

These are examples from 'First Food – Culture of Taste', a stylish cookery book brought out by the Centre of Science and Environment (CSE).

The idea to do the book came up when reporters of 'Down To Earth' magazine, (a sister organisation of the CSE), would return from field trips and inform the editors about the varieties of food that they ate. “That's how we started working on the project more than a decade ago,” says book editor Vibha Varshney. “'Culture of Taste' is the second book in the 'First Food' series.” (The earlier book, published in 2013, was called, 'A Taste of India's Biodiversity').

But there was another urgent reason. “We want to revive India’s traditional culture of eating home-cooked food with seasonal ingredients,” says CSE Director Sunita Narain. “It was getting lost because we are losing the holders of that knowledge – our mothers and grandmothers. Our food today is getting 'multinationalised', 'industralised' and 'chemicalised'. In short, it is a McDonalidisation of food.”

The book has been divided into different sections: leaves, flowers, fruits, vegetables and seeds. “This is the pattern followed by rural communities. They consume all parts of the plant, like the leaves, flowers and fruits, as and when they became available. This method ensures the availability of food throughout the year,” says Vibha.

For example, in Dindori district of Madhya Pradesh, when tender pink leaves appear on the peepal tree towards the end of March the locals cook and eat it. Then during the spring season, everybody picks a leaf or two and chews it, because it strengthens the teeth. Later, the bark and the fruits are also consumed. “This is a method that urbanites can also follow,” says Vibha.

Meanwhile, when asked about the target readership, Vibha says, “It is for those who want to eat healthy food. This option is available in our Indian diet, but we have overlooked it. It is far more healthier and nutritious than the processed food that we eat now.”

Book Details

Title: 'First Food – Culture of Taste'

Publisher: Center for Science and Environment

Pages: 218

Price: Rs 950. 

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi) 

The Dark Side Of Childhood

Director Jude Anthany Joseph has made a short film, which stars Mollywood star Nivin Pauly, and highlights the safety measures that children need to take

Photos: the short film; (From left: Directors Jude Anthany and Lal Jose, dubbing artist Bhagyalakshmi, Shobha Koshy,Chairperson of the Kerala State Commission for Protection of Child Rights and compere Shobha Vijayabhanu

By Shevlin Sebastian

A few months ago, Shobha Koshy, the Chairperson of the Kerala State Commission for Protection of Child Rights was sitting in her office at Thiruvananthapuram. Suddenly, she looked out of the window and saw somebody who looked like Mollywood film director Jude Anthany Joseph. But she was not sure.

However, a couple of minutes later, her assistant came and told her, “The director of ‘Ohm Shanti Oshaana’ wants to see you.”

And when Jude told Shobha he wanted to make a film about child sex abuse, she felt very happy.

Shobha was talking at the launch of the seven-minute film, ‘No. Go. Tell’. The film starts with a group of girls playing in a park. Some are on the swings, while a few are on the sea-saw. Through the entrance, Nivin Pauly enters. The girls recognise him and they get all excited. He greets them as he settles down on a bench. Soon, the group sits on the grass in front of him.

“There are certain parts of the body which no stranger should touch,” says Nivin. “These are the lips, chest, buttocks and between the legs.”

And he tells the children that they should learn to identify two types of touches: good and bad touches. When parents touch the child it is a good touch, but not a stranger. And when somebody does try, there are three safety measures.

“One is so say No loudly, the second is to Go away from the person and the third is to Tell a trusted person like a parent, grandparent, or a teacher,” says Nivin. “If a stranger wants to give you sweets or ice-cream, or tries to show you some videos, you must walk away.” The film ends with a song by the children. And the all-India Childline helpline number 1098 is flashed on the screen. 

Earlier, Shobha had said that when you open the newspaper you are confronted all the time with reports of child sex abuse. “People ask me, 'Is this really true? Are there so many cases happening?',” says Shobha. “Unfortunately, I cannot compare with earlier times, because we don't have any statistics. But the difference today is that more people are speaking about the issue.”

To get an idea of the scale of the problem, the Commission has been collecting data for the past two years. “And the findings are disturbing.,” says Shobha. “The largest number of abuse does not happen with strangers. It happens within the family and the neighbourhood. It happens not just for girls, but boys, too.”

The best way, of course, is by creating awareness. “Children are the most vulnerable and yet they need to be sensitised,” says Shobha. “We, at the Commission, were quite excited when Jude came forward. They are people who can create a ripple in society.”

Director Lal Jose, who was present at the viewing, says, “Only by seeing the film did I understand the seriousness of the issue. But it is also very important that children receive the right kind of message. If there comes a point when a father cannot hug his child, because everybody is under a cloud of suspicion, it will be very sad. And I say this as a father of two daughters. But having said this, this is a really well-made film and we need more films like this to spread the message in our society.” Dubbing artiste Bhagyalakshmi also spoke.

'No. Go. Tell’ has been brought out by the NGO Bodhini, with a sponsorship from the Muthoot Pappachen Foundation. 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram) 

ISIS Slogans And Saddam's Poster

COLUMN: LOCATION DIARY

 

Director Mahesh Narayanan talks about his experiences in 'Take Off'

 

By Shevlin Sebastian

 

At Ras al-Khaimah, United Arab Emirates, in December, last year, the crew of 'Take Off' had placed black ISIS flags all over. This was to resemble a rebel-controlled area in Mosul, Iraq. The movie is about the ordeal of nurses in Iraq, in 2014, as ISIS battled to take over the country. In order to create a realistic atmosphere, slogans of the ISIS were painted on the walls.

 

“We had a lot of Pakistani extras as Iraqi soldiers,” says director Mahesh Narayanan. “They were alarmed when they read the Arabic slogans. They thought that we were making a film showing the ISIS in a favourable light.”

 

They pleaded with Mahesh not to put them in any sort of trouble. They were all construction workers.

 

“They did not understand that it was a fictional film which would be shown in South India,” says Mahesh. “Instead, they thought that I was making a hard-hitting documentary.”

 

Mahesh tried his best to convince the extras through his Arabic-speaking co-ordinators, but they remained unconvinced. In the end, they all left.

 

Then, somebody posted an image of the location on Facebook. The next day the police arrived. After all, it can be a cause for alarm to see ISIS flags in Ras al-Khaimah. Once again, Mahesh had to explain that it was a film set and had the necessary permissions. “It took me a long time to convince them about it,” says Mahesh. “But in the end, the police left.”

 

Mahesh himself almost fell into trouble. Last June, he had gone to Dubai to check out possible areas for shooting. At the immigration, when the officers checked his handbag, they spotted a book, 'Pakistan: Before And After Osama' by former Pakistani journalist Imtiaz Gul. “I did not know that it was banned in the UAE,” says Mahesh. “They have a long list of banned books. However, they handed the book back to me, but made a red mark on my boarding pass.”

 

But he had a stroke of luck. In his luggage he had some computer hard drives which carried a large amount of material on the ISIS. Thankfully, it is not easy to check a hard drive, so Mahesh was able to go in, without further problems.

 

As Mahesh talked in a café in Kakkanad, Kochi, suddenly, four young men came up, sporting smiles. And then one by one, they shook his hand, and said, “We enjoyed ‘Take Off’ a lot. It was a good film.”

 

Mahesh smiled gratefully. After 52 films, as a noted editor, it was probably only now that he is being recognised in public. Soon, the youths left, and the conversation continued.

 

To recreate the city of Tikrit, the home town of the late Iraqi President Saddam Hussein, a 30ft tall flex poster had been made of the leader. “We wanted to use this as a cue to indicate to the audience that Tikrit was a place that belonged to Saddam,” says Mahesh. Incidentally, the real-life nurses worked in the Tikrit Teaching hospital, which was a stone's throw away from the Presidential palace. But the shoot was being held at Ramoji Film City in Hyderabad.

 

Before the cameras rolled, the art department people had placed the poster on the ground in order to clean it. Inadvertently, one of the assistants was standing on the face of Saddam Hussein, to wipe another part of the poster.

 

A few extras saw this and shouted, “Do you know who this person is?”

 

The assistant replied casually, “Yeah, I know, it's Saddam Hussein.”

 

Immediately the extras shouted, “Don't stand on his face. You should show respect. He was a prominent leader of Iraq.” 

(The New Indian Express, Kochi, Thiruvananthapuram and Kozhikode)