Lives blessed by 'barkat'

I shifted to Shaheen Bagh with my husband in 2012. At that time, Shaheen Bagh was the only place in the whole of Delhi NCR where we could afford to buy an apartment. I was a little skeptical, not quite knowing how my life would be in a predominantly Muslim neighborhood. Now I know. It is not any different from the kind of life I have led before in different parts of Delhi or Assam or elsewhere. Yes, may be, there are more women to be seen in the hijab, and a few other outwardly "Muslim" characteristics; but other than that, life has been as usual. Just that, I have been fortunate to have amazing neighbors. And now, I really don't want to shift out of this place until and unless my neighbors shift out too :)

My two closest friends here are Rashida Baji and Munni Baji. Both of them are tailors and they are so good with their work! What is extraordinary about them is not just their work, but how they live their lives and inspire me and others who come in touch with them. I dedicate this photo essay to them.

Munni Baji and Rashida Baji at the terrace of Rashida Baji's building

These is a lot to learn from these two women. Munni Baji's husband has been ill for almost a decade now. His health does not permit him to move much out of the house. Hence, the onus of earning this household's livelihood now rests on Munni Baji. She has three children: One girl is still in high school; her son is in Mumbai with his uncle since last year after he passed his high school, learning the trades of his uncle's business; and her eldest daughter joined work last year. So, for quite some time, it was Munni Baji who was running the household. And she has been living in Shaheen Bagh with her family since 1996, before the real estate boom hit it in the 2000s and turned an idyllic piece of land into the clutter that it is now. "I can't tell you the beautiful life we led here," she tells me. "It was almost like we were living in a village with lots of open space for my children to play and for me to grow vegetables!"         

Munni Baji with her husband Islam Bhai in the courtyard of their house 

The courtyard has several trees and cats. And many children from the neighborhood have grown up here. I am glad that my child is growing up here too, in the midst of sand, trees, plants and cats. This is such a blessing in Delhi!

Rashida Baji moved to Shaheen Bagh with her husband and two little daughters in 2002 and took up a place on rent near Munni Baji's house. The two women became friends and soon started working together. They work in a small room by a corner in Munni Baji's courtyard. They work very hard and proudly run their households. 

There is a term called 'barkat', which means a blessing of abundance. Munni Baji and Rashida Baji's households have 'barkat'. Always and for everyone, there is good food coming out of their kitchens. There is a lot of warmth for whosoever visits them. And they look after the road in front of their houses. Both these two women and their husbands. They clean it by themselves every morning. Not only are their houses clean, but the road outside too. This sense of ownership for the road and the neighborhood is something that I have not even seen "educated" people in Delhi maintain. And for keeping the area clean, if they have to shell out of their pockets, they are not even complaining! Has anyone seen many "educated" people do that? Only a few days ago, Islam Bhai got a few people to clean the manholes in the lane. He paid extra of course because despite many rich and educated people living in the flats around, they refused to pay for work being done on the road. Which they say is the government's job! But of course when Islam Bhai pays from his pocket to keep the road well and clean in front of their houses, they have no objections!       

My toddler cries at late in the night and these two households, where people go to bed early, call me up to find out if all's well and if they should come over to help. There is 'barkat' in everything they offer, even in their generosity.

I am so happy that they have included me in their circle of family. 

Rashida Baji and Munni Baji at their workstation

Rashida Baji's husband owns an auto and he runs it in Noida. Very recently, some newspaper had covered the story of how he had tracked one of his passengers who had left behind a suitcase full of thousand rupee notes in his auto and returned it to the man without a single note missing. The man was overwhelmed and offered him some token money as gratitude. Rashida Baji's husband, Samneer Bhai, refused and came back with satisfaction at having located the man. The man spoke about this fortunate incident to a few journalist friends and soon they covered the story of this hero for their papers.  

Sameer Bhai and Rashida Baji with their daughters and two young neighbors, plus my daughter Zaara on Eid  2013 

celebrating Eid 2013 with my two closest friends in Shaheen Bagh

Rashida Baji and her sunshine smile just like her sunshine persona :)

What I have learnt most from these two women is that nothing can and should come in between a life that is lived with generosity, kindness and gratitude.      

for those interested in the MIDIval Punditz...

http://www.deccanherald.com/content/373290/on-musical-quest.html

On a musical quest

Juanita Kakoty, Dec 8, 2013

The music based travel show Sound Trek on Fox Traveller is a kind of cross-country musical journey promising to bring alive some unique jugalbandhis like fusion of rock with sufi, electronic with Indian tribal folk and soul with choral. 

“The show captures the travels of musicians from different styles to various parts of India. Part of the show is about discovery of a new place, in our case, it was the Falaknuma Palace in Hyderabad. And another part of the show is to do musical jam sessions with local musicians of the place where we travel to,” says MIDIval Punditz, one of the bands to feature in the show that is aired every Thursday and Friday at 10 pm.

The Punditz — Delhi-based musicians Gaurav Raina and Tapan Raj — are celebrated as trailblazers in electronica, and their style mostly covers jungle, electronica and North Indian classical music. “For this show, we travelled to Hyderabad,” continue the Punditz. “We had to jam with the local Burra Katha musicians, the traditional folk musicians from Hyderabad. We did a new version of a track called Baanwarey from our oncoming fourth album. The version performed on the show is different from our album version.”

The Punditz carry the honour of being the first Indians to get signed for an electronica act by an international label, Six Degrees Records. In 2002, they released their debut album Midival Punditz, which created quite a stir. Midival Times, released in 2005, further cemented their position as Indi-electro pioneers, and Hello Hello (2009) earned them a spot on Amazon’s top picks for 2009.

The Punditz are renowned for their jam sessions, where they have blended electronica with live percussion, vocals and Indian elements like the flute and tabla. They have performed at the biggest clubs and music festivals in the world including Fabric (London), Joe’s Pub (New York), 9:30 (Washington D C), Glastonbury (UK), Paleo (Switzerland) and Stern Grove (US).

Travelling has always enriched their music, relate the Punditz. “Our travels and experiences play a very big part in our music. We pick up all these inspirations from meeting new artistes and also by performing for new audiences. These experiences always make their way into our music, perhaps subconsciously.” They are also optimistic about the electronica scene in India. “The electronica scene in India is exploding, especially with so many festivals pushing the style of music. Earlier, there weren’t too many platforms for an electronic musician.”

Apart from the MIDIval Punditz, Sound Trek features other musical geniuses like Lucky Ali, Advaita, Parikrama, Avial, Indus Creed, Soulmate to name a few. The show will take the audience, along with the musicians, to popular Indian destinations like Ladakh, Goa, Hyderabad, Delhi, Mumbai, Auroville, Kerala, Kalimpong, Maheshwar, Srinagar, Orchha and so on.

My latest short story "the utterance" (published by Writers Asylum, 4 Jan 2014)

I begin 2014 with my short story "the utterance" (published by Writers Asylum, 4 Jan 2014). An excerpt:

"A month after he had sneezed and uttered “Allhamulldillah!” he was still looking for a place to move in with Yamini. The whole cycle had started again: Of going through affordable houses but unlivable existential conditions, love-at-first-sight houses but burn-holes-in-pocket prices.

They finally moved into a Muslim neighborhood in Jamia Nagar. The owner, Jumman Mirza, happily handed them the keys to the apartment although he didn’t recognize the boy who now stood in front of him as an adult, and whom he had once hero-worshipped for having shown the thumb to the skies. The boy, whom he had seen once in a while, heard a lot about but never had a conversation with.

To start from the beginning, he might have been born in a Muslim ghetto in the small town of Saharanpur in Uttar Pradesh, but people, without much appreciation of course,knew him as a rebel. They said he had got into the bad habit of objecting to everything around him and that it was in very bad taste."

Read the rest of it at http://www.writersasylum.in/2014/01/fiction/the-utterance/

on Ittars... (Deccan Herald, 1 Dec 2013)

Source: http://www.deccanherald.com/content/372003/fragrance-royalty.html

The fragrance of royalty

Delhi’s Nizamuddin is better known for Sufi saint Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya’s dargah (mausoleum). 

Walking towards it, one cannot miss the waft of fragrances that awaken and enliven our senses. During my last visit, instead of going straight to the dargah, I took a narrow lane and found myself in an exquisite ittar market. Glass-panelled shops with beautiful crystal bottles holding perfume oils enchanted the passers-by.

Walking into one of the shops, I started a conversation with the owner, Mohammad Faizan (23 years), who is taking forward his father’s business. “My father came to Delhi some 60 years ago from Bulandshahr in Uttar Pradesh, and he started this business for Islamic reasons. There is sunnat in it, and no work is considered purer,” Faizan tells me. This reminds me of Eid, when it is customary for every Muslim man and woman to apply ittar. Muslim men also wear ittar on Fridays for their jumma prayers.

Ittar, a term with Persian roots, is natural perfume oil derived from herbs, flowers and wood. The Arabic word is attar. The oil, obtained through hydro or steam distillation, is aged. No alcohol is used in ittars. Hence, unlike synthetic perfumes, ittars are worn directly on the body: insides of wrists, behind ears, insides of elbow joints and back of the neck.

History relates that the Mughal nobles of India were great patrons of these oils. The Jasmine ittar was a particular favourite of the Nizams of Hyderabad. It is also mentioned in Ain-e-Akbari by Abul Fazal that Emperor Akbar used ittar on a daily basis. 

It is also said that a Mughal princess’ bath was incomplete without ittar; particularly Oud which was, and is, prepared in Assam. Legend has it that Mughal Empress Noor Jehan discovered one of the most expensive and exotic ittars, Rooh-e-Gulab, while in her bath. 
Faizan informs, “Our Indian products are home-based and mostly come from Kannauj in Uttar Pradesh.” It is today the ‘Ittar city’ or the perfume city of India. 

“Our products have varied markets within and outside India. Oud is most in demand outside India, especially in the Gulf.” He tells me that Oud is like wine, gets better and more expensive with time. “Oud starts at Rs 10,000 for 10 grams and can go up to lakhs, often auctioned. This perfumed oil is mostly for the royal families of Saudi Arabia.” 

And that, “Arabs don’t use it as perfume 70 per cent of the time; they mostly use it as an aphrodisiac. The perfume increases the body pressure.” 

The Indian government apparently, reveals Faizan, has put a ban on the export of Oud since its source Agarwood (dark resinous heartwood) is a rarity. “Arabs mostly come all the way to Delhi and Mumbai to purchase them.”

The popular ittars within India, Faizan tells me, are the flower extracts Raat ki Rani and Bela. “But these perfume oils, in natural form, come very costly because of the processing mechanism. Hence identical products, not natural but made of essential oils, are in demand in Indian markets.” 

Though ittar has a steady clientele, Faizan states that pure ittar is almost a thing of the past because of its price. “People, especially youngsters, can’t afford pure ittar and so go for western perfumes available in good price.” But he does admit that they get clients from diverse religious backgrounds and not just Muslims. Besides, they get corporate demands too. 

“Denim makers approach us for water-based ittars. When denim is being processed, the heavy chemicals used leave a very pungent smell. To remove this smell, they use water-soluble ittars.”

Faizan shows me a bottle of Ruhkhas, which is used in summer for its cooling effect. “The more you sweat, more will the fragrance last,” he says. 

Then he dabs a drop of some bliss on my right wrist. It is Shamama-tul-amber, he tells me, which is priced at Rs 1,200 for 10 ml. “It is made of garam masala (Indian spices), amber (a rare extract from the Salmon) and sandal oil. It is in huge demand in the Gulf and India and all other cold places. It keeps you warm.” 

On my left wrist, he adds a dash of Oud. I came back smelling divine, with fragrances on me that survived two showers.

My short story, "That summer" published by Writers Asylum

My short story story, "That summer" has been published by Writers Asylum. An excerpt:

"I loved Aita not only because she was my mother’s mother but mostly because she was a child like me, at least, at heart. I have always remembered her as this frail old woman with hair as white as cotton tied in a bun that looked more like a pig’s tail. She would be there at the gate in her starched mekhela chadars and toothless smile, waiting to welcome us every time we went. I have never known her in any other image. She would wait for me to come during my month-long summer and winter vacations, bathe in the rain with me, make bird houses with me, pick lice from my hair, make me sleep with her at night and tell bedtime stories. Grandma’s place at Digboi, in one of the northernmost corners of Assam, was my favorite playground. Every time, there would be a new calf or a pigeon, duck, cat, dog, or plant for me to get excited about. And there would be some new story too to keep me occupied during the stay.

Like that summer, in the early 1990s, when Aita took me to the gooseberry tree by the pond behind the house. “Living in the town has destroyed your skin. Look at you!” she told me, holding me by the hand and leading me through the backyard towards the pond. “Your skin hangs on you like a tortoise’s shell when it should be soft and glowing. You need to eat lots and lots of gooseberries.” As we neared the pond, Aita let out a strict, “Be careful now! I don’t want you in the pond. Just follow me!”

As I nodded, she placed a step on the tiny patch of land between the gooseberry tree and the pond, her foot slipped and she went sliding into the pond. It all happened so fast that Aita’s shout came out only after she had landed in the pond. I thought I was imagining things when a little fish leapt out of the water and almost fell into her open mouth crying out in horror."

Read the rest of it at http://www.writersasylum.in/2013/12/fiction/that-summer/

Cherra in my mind

I blurted out "Cherrapunji" when a couple of us were discussing our favorite places in the world. It's not that I've grown up there or keep visiting it every now and then. It was just a visit in 2008, with my parents and Dulu jethu and Munu jethai, that did it for me. The wettest place on earth before Mawsynram (also in Meghalaya) claimed the title, Cherrapunji is about 4-5 hours from Shillong (by road) and we were wondering, as we made the trip, why on earth had we not visited it before! Considering the fact that we often traveled to Shillong, which is at a two hour drive from Guwahati, my home town. 

Here, I get together a photo essay from my 2008 trip. I don't know why but Cherra is in my mind today!

on the way to Cherrapunji from Shillong

a shop by the roadside selling mustard green pickles, my favorite!

the beautiful Cherra sky

the Cherra hills

in Meghalaya, a common sight is of women running shops and stalls by the roadside and at marketplaces

women running the show in one of the roadside stalls at Cherra 

a bunch of interesting people we met. I (extreme right, standing) pose with them.

megaliths (burial mounds) inside a village in Cherra

 

the Cherra sky - clear and blue

such fresh air that when I look at these photographs even today, I can smell the crisp air!

We stayed at the breathtaking Cherrapunji Holiday Resort

here I am taking in the beauty of the place!

at Cherrapunji Holiday Resort

the little lady who made our stay at the resort comfortable :)

Carmela, who along with her Andhra husband Dennis, owns the lovely Cherrapunji Holiday Resort

we pose with the village boys who came to the resort in the evening to sing for us. they were so talented! 

     

My latest short story published - "The cabbie and the Madamji"

My latest short story "The cabbie and the Madamji" has been published by Writers Asylum.

Excerpt:

"He said his name was Dharam Pal Singh and he showered Neha with utmost respect. “How far have you studied, Madamji?” he once asked Neha as he took her to The Claridges for a meeting. “PhD,” she replied.

“Have you done B.A.?”

“Oh. Yes,” Neha tried not to laugh.

“My son’s also done his B.A. and has now joined my taxi service. He can speak in English, you know!” Dharam Pal announced proudly. And then he went into the story of how diligent and efficient his son is and that they got him married right after his B.A. because he was quite a catch and there were many parents of girls after him. “His B.A. fetched him quite a dowry, you know?” he winked at Neha when their eyes met in the rear view mirror. “He now has a two year old daughter and his wife is pregnant again; hopefully it will be a boy this time.” Neha wanted to say something, but she deemed it better to keep quiet.

As they were about to take the turn towards Claridges, Dharam Pal said, “I am sure my son could have got a job like you. After all he is educated like you. But I need him for my taxi service, you see, to expand my business. So he had to make a sacrifice for his father. I am sure God will reward him well for this.”

Neha’s office is located in Noida, across the Yamuna. But she has to move around the whole of Delhi NCR on official duty. On a few occasions before, Dharam Pal had chauffeured her to and fro from the office to the ministry offices at Nirman Bhavan. He wasn’t an employee with her organization, but his taxi stand was close to their office and so his services were taken for most of the traveling around by her colleagues. So a kind of unwritten contract existed between Dharam Pal and her office. And if ever Dharam Pal got to know that her office has used the services of another taxi provider, he would come over and create quite a tantrum at the reception. In the last six months that Dharam Pal had got to know Neha, he had also taxied her to the Indira Gandhi National Airport once when she was flying out of the country on work."

Read the rest of it at http://www.writersasylum.in/2013/12/fiction/the-cabbie-and-the-madamji/