We've moved

This should have been done long ago, but "Better late than never". We have moved to Wordpress. See us there.

Blog that Hog

Never a dull moment!

A couple of evenings ago, Sonati and I were out gardening, when Sonati heard some noise in the bushes. She thought it was Frisky and looked up to find an enormous pig snuffling around.

My immediate thought was for the newly planted bananas; so I shooed it vigorously and chucked a couple of stones. It ran off up the hillside.

Thinking it was bound to be Terthagiri's (my immediate neighbour) pig, escaped and running about, I shouted out for him and his sons, and went up to see who was around. I found that the pig was MGR's pig, escaped from Valagapattu, and that it was being pursued by a party of one man (Govindraj) and three small boys.

Badri, Varun and I then went westwards with the pursuers to see where the pig might have gone.We sighted it far down in the valley near the Thekambattu temple. Govindraj and his troupe ran after it, Badri and Varun watched, and I returned home, thinking that was the end of it.

Then I heard Frisky barking from down the slope, and came to the Front verandah, to see the pig running full tilt down the road, pursued by the gang. Badri and Varun were down the slope, and I yelled to them to get off the path, and sure enough, even as I was yelling, the pig turned and charged up our slope. I had no time to worry about the boys, for in what seemed to be next to no time at all, the pig was grunting at me from the front steps!

I later learnt that the boys had climbed the Story Rock in the nick of time.

I grunted and yelled at the pig, and luckily it moved away. Govindraj came up, huffing and puffing and warned me to be careful because the pig may bite. The pig was now cornered; but Govindraj instead of catching it, started pelting it with stones, saying that his brief was not to catch it, but to chase it back to Valagapattu and its owner.

Well, the pig gave a grunt of rage, bared its teeth and ran off towards the nesting grounds and points further east. It was quite dark by this time and the last we heard were sounds of pursuit in the distance.

We all came in, and the boys enacted Varun's rather close shave starring Varun as himself, a wooden stool as Story Rock and Badri moving at an amazing speed on all fours as the pig.

Never a dull moment!

Radial Learning

Watching the boys over the last few days, we were struck by the fact that much of their learning is "top-down" or "radial", and hardly ever "bottom-up"

For a long while now, they have been involved with Space, the Universe, Planetary Probes and so on.

All of us go out every night post-dinner, star chart in hand, to see if the clouds will allow us to star-gaze. Great excitement when we spotted Jupiter one night.
The boys' outdoor games are to do with going to various planets. They make Lego models of Phoenix, Sojourner and various other Space probes/landers/rovers. Paper models are also aplenty, some of their own designing, some whose templates have been downloaded from various websites.
Badri has a list of some 30 probes to Mars.
Both Badri and Varun have projects on the Scratch site with maps of Venus, Mars and other planets.

They have a 3D-visualization, which I for one, envy. Something that has never occurred to me, which Badri Baba remarked on, in passing, while talking about conventions and "people do it that way" was that one could draw maps of the earth with S America on top and N America below; the whole world flipped upside down. All it means is that you are looking at the Solar System from the "bottom" and the planets are revolving clockwise around the sun rather than counter-clockwise as is usually depicted.

Whilst doing all this, various questions crop up:
Stability: Why does Spirit have three sets of equal sized wheels? Why does a tractor have two unequal sets of wheels?

Scale: Something that is never clearly explained and as a result of which many of us carry around a wrong picture in our heads of the sun and the planets orbiting it.
One cannot draw on an A4 paper an accurate rendering of the Solar System with the planets' sizes and their orbits to the same scale.
Fine. But surely , we should not be looking at pictures that are "strongly" elliptical. Aphelion (Greatest distance of earth from sun) and Perihelion (Least distance of earth from sun) occur 180 degrees from each other, not 90 degrees as suggested by almost all the diagrams we see.

Co-ordinates: Why can't x and y co-ordinates be called h(orizontal) and v(ertical) co-ordinates to avoid confusion? Why not indeed!

The point I am trying to make is that if kids (or adults for that matter) plunge into some subject that interests them, there are bound to be difficulties. But surely, these can be surmounted, taking into account the understanding-level of the kid concerned.

To insist on sequential learning as devised by adults, is a sure way to kill the spontaneous interest and consequent energy generated to learn something new.

To insist on being able to spell "Jane, see Spot run", before spelling Phoenix and Cassini-Huygens will probably lead to "reading difficulties" which is actually boredom by another name.

Mud

Arunachalam, Chinnathambi and Thenan were working with mud, one day last week: we are in the (slow) process of converting our cowshed into a room. The first step in this was levelling the floor and knocking down and rebuilding a crooked wall.

While the clay was available, Arunachalam kneading it with his feet, Sonati and I seized the moment to repair our 'adupu' (wood stove). The boys did some modelling: Varuna made a dog and Badri Baba made a monster (as in monster.com).

It is such a versatile medium, is mud: you can shape it as you please, you can knock down and rebuild without much heartbreak. And the feel of it in your hands is lovely: none of the noxiousness of working with cement mortar.

This medium is the villagers' forte: Arunachalam kept kneading the mud into the correct sticky consistency, and Chinnathambi and Thenan quickly rebuilt the crooked wall, and did some fine-tuning on the other walls.

For generations, they have built their houses using mud: Even now, in this age of cement and concrete, most of the houses in the villages here are "mud and thatch", built by the individual families themselves.

Laurie Baker was one architect who actually learnt from villagers, and could then contribute to an authentic Indian architecture.We need many more such architects, engineers and soil scientists in India, who can work with the people, learn from them and then help them evolve their building practices.

Just a few design inputs- How to incorporate a window for more light inside the house, How to stabilize the mud to prevent dampness, How to deal with the problem of termites- will make a world of a difference to the occupants. And most importantly, the medium will continue to be their own: they will not need "outside" masons or carpenters to build their own houses.







We have friends who live in a mud and thatch house (above), and (Sonati's) Baba, in Assam, has also built himself a Santhali mud and thatch house (below). Interestingly, both Baba and our friends speak of the intense interest generated among the locals during the building of their houses. Many people would come to watch the building. After all, it is a medium familiar to them and they can take pride in a "modern" house built on a "vernacular" foundation

.

Hackers

I heard the sound of wood being cut (to which I am sensitised), and went to the Hippo Rock to find two boys from Gundiyapattu, cutting some "villeri", as bold as brass.

I started shouting at them -thieves... how can you just come into our land?... what if someone came into your land?...-, and they said that "they" had told them to cut some "villeri" (which is a shrub that grows to tree-height, and is used for making pandals, other temporary shelters, and "heat shields" for young saplings). "They" were, of course, the adults of the village.

More upsetting was the fact that one of the boys was Rajkumar, who we know very well. He has come here many times for "tuitions" which were actually sessions in drawing, painting and drama. His father is Kumar, one of our neighbours and friends.

Our land cannot be fenced with barbed wire: For one, it would be too expensive; moreover fences can be breached. For another, we are averse to a psychological barrier between "us" and "them". So, we have a lantana fence around our land, like the villagers have around theirs, which is of course easily breached.

We have handled the issue of trespassing for grazing and wood-cutting by using various methods: Outright rants and threats ("I am coming down now with a 'kathi'"), curses (our first curse actually worked, much to our surprise, and our reputation in this regard, kept the grazers away for a while), tying up errant goats and cows, and, over the years, a developing of relations with the neighbours, the villages etc.

Now the pressures are mounting. The forest is in retreat with more and more land coming under the plough. More roads also mean easier access to timber for contractors colluding with corrupt forest officials.With no "commons" to speak of, our land is an easy target where wood, grass and medicinal plants are easily available.

How does one respond? There is no point shaming Rajkumar for the sins of his elders. There is no point ranting at Kumar for "using Rajkumar' : the situation is too complex to lay the blame solely on Kumar. On the other hand, if one does nothing, then such incidents will surely proliferate.

Any answers, anyone?

Tree Planting

All four of us were outside this evening, preparing seedling bags and putting in some tree seeds. We punched holes in old milk sachets (Vangal Dairy!), then packed them with a mix of mud and compost, pressed the seed in and watered the bags.

Whatever seeds pop, will be nursed in the nursery for a year, and we will hopefully plant out most of the seedlings next year.

Some of these were jackfruit seeds. We received the jackfruit as a gift, yesterday from Swaminathan's family; the tree from which it came is an old one, planted by Swaminathan's grandfather.(The jackfruit is as much his gift as his grandson's). If all goes well, today's bagging will yield fruit in 20 years' time.

We were struck by the wonder of it all: One small seed given time and space, can give rise miraculously to a stately jackfruit tree, producing fruit, each of which is a meal (or two) for a family!

I went and saw our one surviving jackfruit tree which was one of those we planted from seed when we came here.It has survived the depredations of goats and three consecutive drought years, and has grown into a lovely-looking young tree.

With that one we are eight years "ahead of the game", so if any of you are in the vicinity in June 2020, you may be the lucky ones to share in our first homegrown jackfruit harvest.

Shakshuquiche

Shakshuka is a dish which Sunny and Meeta taught us: They had learnt it from an Israeli friend. Essentially, you poach eggs on a mush of cooked tomatoes, onion, garlic and herbs and green chillies.

Shakshuquiche is our variation which was tried out yesterday for tiffin.

Recipe:
For the pastry: 2/3 cup til oil, 2/3 cup water, salt, 2 cups whole wheat flour.
Briskly mix oil, water and salt. Add the flour and quickly mix with your fingertips into a dough. Keep aside for a couple of minutes. Then line your pastry dish (bottom and wall) with the dough, pressing and spreading with your fingertips.

For the filling: 4 or 5 tomatoes, 1 large onion, 5 cloves of garlic, coriander leaves, 4 tablespoons of milk, salt and pepper, 4 eggs. (We left out the green chillies because of the kids, and added milk instead)
Chop all the vegetables. Add salt and pepper and put it on the pastry. Add the milk. Make four wells in the mixture, and break an egg into each well. Bake for 50 minutes at 180 C. (In the solar cooker, it will take three hours).

Cheers!

Self-Reliance

Chinnathambi, Arunachalam and Thenan just called us to share some honey which they had extracted from a hive under some rocks, whilst clearing part of our land. Talking to them, looking at how they function, I wonder about their lives and the lives of the next generation of villagers which seem to be headed in a "townu" direction.

They are responsible for every facet of their lives: We seem to have passed on the responsibility for many (important) things to institutions.
They build their own houses: We delegate that to architects, contractors, masons and "coolie aal".
Their babies grow up in their grandparents' laps: Ours, increasingly, go to creches
They educate their kids: We pass that work on to schools.
They grow their own food, and have various remedies for many common ailments: We buy food (and, increasingly nowadays precooked or semi-cooked food), and pass the responsibility of our health onto hospitals.
They are born at home and die at home. Increasingly many people in towns are born and die in hospitals.

But, now, many of the next generation, are passing on the responsibilities:
From their panchayats to the police station and the courts
From their medicine men to the hospitals
From their families to the hired mason and carpenter
From themselves to the government schools.

Increasingly youngsters are getting alienated from their culture. They are moving from a culture of self-reliance to a culture based on money.

If, like us, they "sublet" the important work of Roti Kapda aur Makaan, what will occupy them? What occupies us?

One thing that I need to learn is to extract honey from a hive, for the next lot of workers I hire may not be able to do that!

Linux

Our house has become a "Linux household" in the last couple of months, and the boys have been furiously drawing stuff, apart from working on the computer. Sketches of Linus Torvalds and Linux-related themes are all over the house. Varun Baba even has Tux (the penguin) with the features of Linus on one of his drawings (the second picture)

We have had a phone for two years now, a computer for a year and a half, and an internet connection for just under a year. For the last two months we have been using a Linux OS : Ubuntu. So we are newbies and what I write will be naive in parts. I would urge all those who read this post to comment on what I have written and what I haven't, on your usage or non-usage of Linux/Ubuntu/FLOSS (Free/Libre Open Source Software).

To connect to the Internet using Ubuntu was an issue and Badri Baba and I ("with a little bit of help from our friends") managed to do it after a week or so of frustration. Once online, we mucked around and over time completely stopped using Windows. With the evangelism of the new convert, I would urge all of you to try Ubuntu in a separate partition if you do not want to get rid of Windows. The whole feel is great from the Desktop backgrounds and Screen savers to the fact that there are no virus issues.

Q1: Why does Linux not have virus issues?
Q2: Relatedly, why are there viruses at all? Is it criminals who are trying to steal credit card details or your phone number or what-have-you; or is it "hackers" doing it for a lark?

The philosophy behind the Open Source movement seems sound to me. Sharing means that everyone who uses Linux is a potential contributor to it, whereas Proprietary Software means that the people who work on it are a small fraction of the people who use it.

But how is a company like Canonical (which "makes" Ubuntu) financially viable? You can download Ubuntu for free, you can even ask for an installation CD, and they will mail you one for free. Obviously I am missing something, but I have to ask, with Badri Baba, " I know how Microsoft makes money, but how does Canonical make money?"

A Requiem for Ramasamy

I went into Thekambattu, one morning, last week, to "check my mail" (at the Post Office) and was passing the time of the day with Vellian, when the "Oppari" wailing started on the loudspeaker.

Vellian told me that Ramasamy, who had broken stones to build our house, was dead. He had committed suicide by drinking insecticide in his field the previous afternoon, and was found dead later that evening.

There was no kaatu prachanai (Land trouble: i.e. boundary disputes with his brothers or cousins) or veetu prachanai (House trouble: i.e. problems between husband and wife), so everyone's thoughts turned to kaasu prachanai (Money trouble). He seemed well-off, with regular work in Karumandurai, his son having passed his Class 10 exam and working as a watchman at the Sun Hatcheries, and of course, all his fields well looked after.

But.... Some debt somewhere? Some moneylender squeezing him? He didn't know which way to turn... A pleasant, rather shy man, driven to the last desperate "solution"... Now, he is one more in the endless statistic of farmer suicides. Actually he is saved that last ignominy, since in these parts, they do not automatically involve the police in their affairs.

I saw "him" that morning, waiting for all the clan to come and pay their last respects. The entire village, like me, was in a state of shock at his untimely and unexpected death. That night there was a terrific thunderstorm, and his ashes would have mingled with his fields.

I'll end this with some lines from Oliver Goldsmith's The Deserted Village:

Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates and men decay;
Princes and Lords may flourish, or may fade :
A breath can make them, as a breath has made.
But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,
When once destroyed, can never be supplied.