Indian Morning

On your mark- the milkman rings the doorbell

Get set- the municipal water pours through the tap into the large bucket

Go! The pressure cooker whistles for the 4th time

These sounds, along with the sunrise, symbolize the start of an Indian morning. The milkman has replaced the roosters by ringing the bell at 5:45a.m. “One minute” the mother says, rising out of bed so quickly, you wonder if she actually was sleeping. Drowsily, she grabs the steel bowl and stumbles around and over sleeping kids, husbands, in-laws and pets.

The milk is then placed on the stove and waits for a boil. The chai is made separately as the vegetables are cut to put in the pressure cooker. The cooked vegetables, which take 4 whistles in the pressure cooker, will be packed in the tiffins for school or work. Chai is shared by adults who are planning their day. Husband and wife sit and read the news before the children need to be woken up. They discuss the needs for the day, he gives her some extra cash for household expenses and she reminds him that the electricity bill needs to be paid this week. The eldest child, who is preparing for admission into the prestigious Indian Institute of Technology (IIT), has been up since 4 a.m. reviewing her math homework.

The younger children lazily rise out of bed, as if each one of their body parts is waking up separately. They take slow baths until their mother knocks on the door to advocate for waiting siblings. Children step into neatly pressed uniforms: skirt and white shirt for the girl and pants and white shirt with tie for the boy. Boots are polished while toast is being buttered and milk is cooling after adding two heaping spoonfuls of sugar to the tall glass.

The room echoes with “Mumma, where is my…?” is filled in for bags, socks, pencil cases and homework. As the mother quickly steps in to locate the item, not missing a moment in her the routine, she quickly finishes packing her husband’s lunch- which include roti, daal, subji, rice and some sweet snack. She ensures the children look fresh, clothes clean and pressed and Pond’s talcum powder glistening around their chins, looking like slight white shadows around their moon shaped faces.

A comb divides long hair into ropes of ribbons in the daughter’s hair. The son’s hair, still wet and slightly oiled, is smartly parted on the right, sending curly waves floating to the left.

Backpacks filled with heavy books and water bottles that have been refilled and tightened twice will accompany the lunch of aloo and puri* for the children. Included will be Rs.1 for a snack of chickee at the recess. The mother gathers her belongings and gets ready to walk the children to school. She prepares breakfast and lunch for the father who has just finished the business section of the Times of India and is ready to step into the bathroom and the stove warmed water for him. She looks in the mirror to check her bindi and her mangalsutra. The pleats in her sari are checked again as she reminds the husband to finish up with the paper and get moving quickly. If he is late, the morning train ride on the local train is going set him in a rotten mood for the whole day.

She packs her purse and small umbrella in a plastic bag—an essential item for the monsoon season. The children trot next to the mother as they dodge sidewalk vendors, paan walas, samosa walas, coconut and fresh juice vendors, stray animals, people waiting for the bus, aunties haggling for vegetables for lunch, aggressive pedestrians and uneven sidewalks. When they finally reach the school, the mummys all gather at the gate, their saris perfectly pleated colors in pastels, primaries and geometric shapes. They stand together until each one of those braids and round faces disappear into the building.

Heading back home, she quickly picks up some fresh fruit from the vendor, haggling with him a bit for the right price. She waves hello to her friends headed in the other direction and rushes back home. Her husband just finished his breakfast and is ready to leave. The eldest daughter got herself ready and started the washing machine before she left on the local bus. Her mother-in-law is slowly finishing her morning ablutions and preparing for her pooja and will hang the clothes out to dry later. She grabs her bag for work and heads out after taking the blessings of the diya she lit in the early morning after her bath. As she heads to work on the local train, she checks her wristwatch, its 7:58—just in time for the morning local.

[From 2004-2006, I lived in India while working for a non profit organization in Mumbai. Since 2008, I have started another position that brings me to India quite frequently. This isn’t a snippet of just one family’s life, but rather an amalgamation of my observation of different families during my long term stay and short term visits to India.]

Glossary:
Tiffin: Portable steel containers
Roti, daal, subji: Leavened bread, lentils and cooked vegetables
Aloo and puri: Cooked potato dish and fried bread
Chikee: Peanut brittle
Paan walas and samosa walas: Paan is a mouth refresher made with betel nut and an edible, paan wala is someone who sells paan
Samosa is a deep fried potato dumpling eaten as a snack in India, samosa wala sells samosas
Mangal sutra: (necklace symbolizing her marriage)
Diya: A lamp that is lit during a pooja, can be a form of a blessing

Indian Morning

On your mark- the doodhwala rings the doorbell

Get set- the water pours through the tap

Go- the pressure cooker gives the seeti for the 4^th time

The Indian morning begins. The milkman has replaced any likely roosters by ringing the bell at 5.45am. “Ek minute” the mothers say, rising out of bed so quickly, you wonder if they actually were sleeping. Drowsily, she grabs the pathila and stumbles around and over sleeping kids, husbands, in-laws and pets.

The milk is on the stove and waiting for a boil. The chai is made separately as the subjis are cut to put in the pressure cooker. The cooked subjis, which take 4 seetis and will be packed in the tiffins for school or work. Chai is shared by adults who are planning their day.

Children lazily rise out of bed, as if each one of their body parts are waking up separately. They take slow baths until their mothers knock on the door to advocate for waiting siblings. Boots are polished while toast is being buttered and milk is cooling after adding 2 heaping spoonfuls of sugar to the tall glass. The room echoes with “Mumma, where is my…?” is filled in for bags, socks, pencil cases and homework. As the mother quickly steps in to locate the item, not missing a step in the routine, quickly finishes packing everyone’s lunches. She ensures the children look fresh, clothes clean and pressed and Pond’s talcum powder glistening around their chins, looking like slight white shadows around their moon shaped faces.

A comb divides long hair into long ropes of ribbons in the daughter’s hair and the boy’s hair, still slightly wet and slightly oiled, is smartly parted on the right, sending curly waves floating to the left.

Backpacks filled with heavy books and water bottles that have been refilled and tightened twice will accompany the lunch of aloo and puri. Included will be rs. 1 for a snack of chickee at the recess. The mother gathers her belongings and gets ready to walk the children to school. She prepared breakfast and lunch for the father who has just finished the business section of TOI and is ready to step into the bathroom and the stove warmed water for him.

She packs her purse and small umbrella in a plastic bag—an essential item for the monsoon season. The children trot next to the mother as they dodge hawkers, paan walas, chaat walas, coconut and fresh juice vendors, aunties buying subjis for lunch, aggressive pedestrians and uneven sidewalks. When they finally reach the school, the mummys all gather at the gate, their saris perfectly pleated colors in pastels, primaries and geometric shapes. They stand together until each one of those braids and round faces disappear into the building, blessed with the promise of a new morning and touched by the hopes of their mothers.

The Dance Of Shiva

[Another one of my Grandfather, P.R. Verma's writings. On Lord Shiva and his many forms. In his words, there are so many deep meanings of the various avatars of this God.]

Amongst the greatest of the names of Shiva is Natraja, Lord of Dancers, or King of Actors. The Cosmos in His Theatre, there are many different stops in his repertory, He Himself is actor and audience-

“When the Actor beateth the drum,

Everybody cometh to see the show;

When the Actor collecteth the stage properties

He abideth along in His happiness.”

The root idea behind all of Shiva’s dances is more or less one the name, the manifestation of primal rhythmic energy. Whatever the origin of Shiva’s dance, it became in time the clearest image of the activity of God which any art or religion can boast of. Three of Shiva’s dances are explained below:

Pradosha:

The first is an evening dance in the Himalayas, with a divine chorus, described as follows in the Shiva Pradosha Stotra:

“Placing the Mother of the Three Worlds, upon a golden throne, studded with precious gems, Shulapani dances on the heights of Kailasa, and al the gods gather round Him:

“Saraswati plays on the Vina, Indra on the flute, Brahma holds the time-marking cymbals, Lakshmi begins a song, Vishnu plays on a drum, and all the gods stand round about:

“Gandharvas, Yakshas, Patagas, Urgas, Siddhas, Sadhyas, Vidyadharas, Amaras, Apsarases, and all the being dwelling in the 3 worlds assemble there to witness the celestial dances and hear the music of the divine choir at the hour of twilight.”

This evening dance is also referred to in the invocation preceding the Katha Sarit Sagara.

In the picture of this dance, Shiva is two-handed, and the co-operation of the gods is clearly indicated in their position of chorus. There is no prostrate Asura trampled under Shiva’s feet. No special interpretations of this dance occur in Shiva literature.

Tandava:

The second well-known dance of Shiva is called the Tandava, and belongs to His tamasic aspect as Bhairava or Vira-Bhadra. It is performed in cemeteries and burning grounds, where Shiva, usually in ten-armed form, dances wildly with Devi, accompanied by troops of capering imps. Representations of the dance are common amongst ancient sculptures, as at Elura, Elephanta, and also Bhuvaneshawara. The Tandva dance is in origin that of a pre-Aryan divinity, half-god, half-demon, who holds his midnight revels in the burning ground. In later times, this dance is in the cremation ground, sometimes of Shiva, sometimes of Devi, is interpreted in Shiva and Shakti literature in the most touching and profound sense.

Natraja:

Thirdly, we have the Nadanta dance of the Natraja before the assembly (sabha) in the golden hall of Chidambram or Tillai, the center of the Universe, first revealed to gods and rishis after the submission of the latter in the forest of Taragam, as related in Koyil Puranam. The legend which has after all, no very close connection with the real meaning of the dance, may be summarized as follows:

In the forest of Taragam dwelt multitudes of heretical rishis following of the Mimamsa. Thither proceeded Shiva to confute them, accompanied by Vishnu disguised as a beautiful woman, an Ati-Sheshan. The rishis were at first led to violent dispute amongst themselves, but their anger was soon directed against Shiva, and they endeavored to destroy Him by means of incantations. A fierce tiger was created in sacrificial fires, and rushed upon Him; but smiling gently He seized it and with the nail of His little finger, stripped off its skin and wrapped it about Himself like a silken cloth. Undiscouraged by failure, the sages renewed their offerings, and produced a monstrous serpent, which, however, Shiva seized and wreathed about His neck like a garland. Then he began to dance; but there rushed upon Him a last monster in the shape of a malignant dwarf, Muyalaka. Upon him the God pressed the tip of His foot, broke the creature’s back, so that it writhed upon the ground; and so, His last foe prostrate, Shiva resumed the dance, witnessed by gods and rishis.

Shri Natraja images represent Shiva dancing, having four hands, with braided and jeweled hair of which the lower locks are whirling in the dance. In His hair may be seen a wreathing cobra, a skull, and the mermaid figure of Ganga; upon it rests the crescent moon, and it is crowned with a wreath of Cassia leaves. In His right ear He wears a man’s earring, a woman’s in the left; He is adorned with necklaces and armlets, a jeweled belt, anklets, bracelets, finger and toe-rings. The chief part of His dress consists of tightly fitting breaches, and He wears also a fluttering scarf and a sacred thread. One right hand holds a drum, the other is uplifted in the sign of do not fear; one left hand holds fire, the other points down upon the demon Muyalaka, a dwarf holding a cobra; the left foot is raised. There is a lotus pedestal from which springs an encircling glory (Tiruvasi), fringed with flame, and touched writhing by the hands of holding drum and fire. The images are of all sizes, rarely if ever exceeding four feet in total height.

The dance, in fact, represents His five activities (Panchakriya) viz: Shristi overlooking, creation, evolution), sthiti (preservation, support), Samhara (destruction, evolution), Tirobha va (veiling, embodiment, illusion, and also, giving rest), and Anugraha (release, salvation, grace). These, separately considered, are the activities of the deities Bramha, Vishnu, Rudra, Maheshvara, and Sadashiva.

Creation arises from the drum, protection proceeds from the hand of hope; from fire proceeds destruction; the feet hold aloft gives release. It will be observed that the fourth hand points to this lifted foot, the refuge of the soul.

We also have the following from Chidambra Mummani Kovai:

“Oh my Lord, Thy hand holding the sacred drum has made and ordered the heavens and earth and other worlds and innumerable souls. Thy lifted hand protects both the conscious and unconscious order of thy creation. All these worlds are transformed by Thy hand bearing fire. Thy sacred foot, planted on the ground, gives an abode to the tired soul struggling in the toils of casuality. It is thy lifted foot that grants eternal bliss to those that approach Thee. These Five-Actions are indeed Thy Handiwork.”