Little More Than A Game
To disclose that I am not a sports fanatic is something of an understatement.
I hardly notice its occurrence.
But to fully experience life in India, you must embrace cricket. It is part of the deal:
At times, an almost overwhelming part of that deal!
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Yesterday saw the semi-final of the 2011 Cricket World Cup being played:
The match in India;
The teams, India vs Pakistan.
This pair of brothers are the embodiment of serious sibling rivalry. They are twins joined at the hip but forever locked in potentially catastrophic squabbles.
For a few agreed hours, the foes put aside their armed forces and resisted the urge to polish nuclear weapons.
In both countries everything stopped for cricket.
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Such an event is impossible to ignore.
Last night my house, like every other home in the entire sub-continent, was gripped by cricket fever.
My kind friend, Robin; my house-boy, Anu; and this blogger, surprised by his own excitement, were mesmerised by events broadcast on what seemed like half of all available cable channels.
The match start was leisurely,
Though interest soon heightened.
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As tension mounted, the audience began to stand.
Heightened anxieties were addressed by frequent dhoti adjustments.
By now, the entire audience were on their feet!
Until finally:
VICTORY!
We had vanquished Pakistan!
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On Saturday the final:
India vs Sri Lanka!
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Jai Hind!
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Photographs of yesterday’s semi-final are taken from BBC News and The Guardian, without permission.
Monthly Measures
Every month the thing in the corner must be seen to:
The fish caught and the water changed.
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Exit Strategy
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The plan was a dawn ride to the lake shore:
A chance to capture sunrise over the water.
But nature is capricious.
Cloud entirely covered the sky.
Three fishing canoes came to divert us:
More than adequate compensation.
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So having photographed the boats, we headed back to home…
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Ships That Pass In The Night
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“Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,
Only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness;
So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another,
Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence”
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“I look far out into the pregnant night,
Where I can hear a solemn booming gun
And catch the gleaming of a random light,
That tells me that the ship I seek is passing, passing.”
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Sunset Sailings
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Farewell To A Queen
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I watch and wait.
Watching as the sun slips down
Past the fishing nets
Into gently lapping golden waves.
Waiting for a queen of royal lineage.
The crowd quietens,
Then breaks into cheers.
She has appeared.
The Queen sails majestically out of harbour,
Into sunset.
And with her,
My friends…
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Photographs taken as my friends left Fort Cochin on the Queen Elizabeth yesterday and sailed off into the Arabian Sea.
The Passing Of Years
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“I am weary of days and hours,
Blown buds of barren flowers,
Desires and dreams and powers
And everything but sleep.”
A.C.Swinburne (1837-1909)
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Photograph taken on the streets of Fort Cochin. The man was begging for alms in the heat of the midday sun.
Tweaking The Dream
I will never do this:
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But could try this later:
I must try to accept my limits gracefully..
while joyfully exploring the countless opportunities life still offers.
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A few months back, I entertained the fantasy of buying a motorbike, then driving along the local roads, with the wind streaming through what’s left of my hair.
The byzantine workings of Indian bureaucracy slowly but inexorably sank that illusion.
But my plan could be tweaked a little. The idea is not totally unattainable.
Anu, my houseboy, has just acquired a motorbike.
He has only recently passed his driving test and lacks experience.
But Anu is sensible and the bike is not powerful.
When he has gained experience and confidence I hope to live my dream vicariously,
as one of life’s pillion passengers .
But first, there’s a helmet to be bought…
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Elephant Boys
This festival included elephants, each bearing three or four young men.
The boys are not mahouts, they are performers. Their role is almost that of cheerleaders.
They hold aloft the brightly coloured silk parasols.
From atop the elephants, they display decorated white woollen fleeces and peacock feathers in a carefully choreographed routine, which adds further drama to the musical crescendos.
But as the small orchestra quietens
The boys slip into laughter, conversation or their own private thoughts.
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As for the mahouts,
They keep a lower profile.
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Come Blow Your Horn!
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I chance upon another festival.
This time the celebration is Hindu, with a full contingent of brass players.
Their lungs are strong,
Their embouchure, impressive!
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Or possibly…
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Reasons To Be Happy
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This weekend, Hindus all across the world celebrated Holi.
Although in Kerala Holi is a relatively low-key event, packets of brightly coloured powders were on sale along the roadside.
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But I had my own celebration.
My cousin from the USA was stopping over
And she came bearing the very best sort of gifts:
Cheeses!
A deliciously mature Oregon cheddar,
Canadian Brie
And, just for Holi, a rich-looking, blue cheese.
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The first picture in this post depicts Radha celebrating Holi, Kangra, India. Date: c. 1788. Source: Victoria Albert Museum, London. In India this image is held in the public domain.
Preparing for a Feast: Paysam
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Every festival in India is a feast for all the senses.
And in Kerala, every feast finishes with paysam.
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Vast cauldrons and trays of the dessert are prepared.
In Kannamaly the church hall is used for its storage.
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This paysam will be given as part of the free meal but can also be purchased
As a “take-away”
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Preparing for a Feast: Profane
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Preparations for the feast of St Joseph also involve food:
Quite a lot of food.
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Vegetarian curries and rice will be prepared in almost industrial quantities
To feed people of all faiths and denominations.
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Preparing for a Feast: Sacred
Today is the Feast of St Joseph.
Late on Thursday evening, a friend took me on his motorbike to St Anthony’s Church, Kannamaly – a quiet semi-rural backwater of Cochin -
Where preparations for the annual festival involve the entire community.
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A time of preparation, quiet meditation and devotion.
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Random Harvests
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After almost exactly one year from planting, the bananas are ready to harvest.
And ripening.
Each is over 12 inches (30 cm) long.
They are fine specimens and extremely tasty.
Their total weight is more than 66 lbs. (30 kg)
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Our mango crop has also been harvested
- only eleven fruits -
But that’s a ten-fold increase on last year.
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And the pomegranates are in flower…
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A Perception Of Emptiness
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We had planned to use the swimming pool.
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But it seemed we were to be disappointed.
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Fortunately, the hotel had a second pool!
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Elegant Eating
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My son and his wife are still with me.
The evening climate is warm and welcoming.
Our garden supper, in an elegant restaurant, was the excellent end to a gentle day.
I opted for a rich, cheese and tomato, home-made ravioli.
“The children” both settled on “fisherman’s dream”, a medley of sea-food, served on basmati rice, with a coconut-based, curry sauce.
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Their chosen dessert: miniature chocolate samosas, accompanied by fresh mango coulis.
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Under Construction
Across the road from me, the construction of a three-story, apartment block continues.
Some days it is extremely busy.
Other days, less so.
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Celebrating with a seafood supper!
They are jet-lagged.
They are exhausted.
But they are here!
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They have put behind them the frustrations and disappointment of their cancelled Christmas visit.
They are trying to forget the staggering inefficiencies of Air India and the total indifference of their ground staff.
They are coming to terms with being marooned for eight hours in Mumbai, with no one apparently interested in helping them finish the last leg of their thirty-six hour, booked and confirmed, flight schedule.
My youngest son and daughter-in-law have arrived from Washington DC.
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Now is the time to relax and celebrate.
During supper at Oceanus Restaurant, a leisurely five-minute stroll from my home, all the tensions and uncertainties that bedevilled their journey slip away.
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Broadway Calls Again!
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The lure of Broadway is undeniable.
This time, for something called a “chappati cutting board”.
Although not having a clue what it is, I am certainly not going to argue if Dalila says we need one!
The shop in Broadway is filled to capacity with various kitchen utensils including, it seems, an appropriate chappati cutting board.
We make our purchase and then,
Passing all manner of imponderable wares,
Head back to our taxi.
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Just a few hours later Anu, my trusty houseboy, is using the new chappati cutting board to prepare our supper.
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Endings
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The party is over.
The dance floor must be packed away.
While the dancing drummers
Sip a last drink
And change out of their mundus.
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“All lovely things will have an ending, All lovely things will fade and die; And youth, that’s now so bravely spending, Will beg a penny by and by”
Conrad Aiken
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The Grand Finale
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With the procession having reached its destination and the musicians refreshed,
it is time for a magnificently choreographed finale.
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“It’s the finale. It’s the last impression. A bad dessert can ruin the meal!” Anne McManus
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A Short Intermission
The drummer’s rhythmic crescendo is timed to occur as they arrive at the chapel.
Now, their instruments can be temporarily set down.
The musicians take a brief rest
And interlude refreshments.
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In the 1950′s, when most programmes were broadcast live and timings were not exact, there were often interludes between programmes. These were filled by continuity announcements and short features.
The BBC shot a series of short films which became as famous as the programme they were shown between. This is “The Windmill”, filmed at Pakenham, Bury St Edmunds.
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Look To Your Laurels
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The procession has reached St Anthony’s chapel.
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The garlanded statue of its patron saint is displayed.
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But St Anthony is not the only bearer of garlands.
A few chosen men are sporting laurels of pastelled flowers and richly coloured capes:
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The influence of western Mediterranean Catholicism, which came to Kerala in the seventeenth century, along with Portuguese military conquest.
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A markedly different style to the two thousand year-old, Syrian Christian community of Kerala,
whose rites and vestments are close to those of the Orthodox Church.
And their liturgy, until very recently, still celebrated in Aramaic.
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