Ragi mudde November 7, 2009
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Ragi – In the botanical common language, finger millet, also called African millets, the botanical binomial – Eleusine coracana
Many of them do not know this is also cultivated in the arid upper Himalayas and is called Mandua there.
Humble man’s food in South Eastern districts of Karnataka, South Western Andhra Pradesh and North West Tamil Nadu. This millet is supposed to have been introduced many centuries ago from the continent of Africa. Far from the west coast and in the Himalayan pockets it has carved a niche for itself and yes in the hearts of many.
The flour deep reddish-brown in colour, it is passed off as black.
Ragi is a victim of food apartheid, many people consider it below their dignity to eat black ragi. Little do they understand that this high carbohydrate fibre rich food is a beautiful source of iron. It is cooling and nourishing to the body.
Being a millet, it is milled and the flour is consumed. Obvious!?!
Rotis yes, savouries… endless kinds of them.. ok .. yes, porridge yes, Popped millet flour…oooh OK,Mudde??? what is mudde ??? (pronounced moo like a cow’s call only don’t drag it long and they like in english refering to them ….whom ever?!)
Mudde is simply a lump in Kannada. Someone got a brainstorm once and called it “ball” Yeah eat balls!!! Only these “balls” are made of ragi. Thanks to Devegowda Mudde got its popularity. I got to hear it as balls too when Deve gowda was the PM
During Deve Gowda’s term as a PM, many did think this Ragi mudde will now become the National Fudd.
Some people refer fat dark people as ragi mudde too. Had a classmate once who told me this. Some times one must concentrate to figure out which mudde is eating which…… may be, like in the case of an ex PM
Unfortunate ragi mudde is not identified as lump, but became balls, because it is simply shaped that way…. now how can a lump be shaped round???
Bland to taste it is accompanied with strong flavours, and dominant tastes. The combination is mind-blowing. The acquired will relish it with buttermilk and pickle…….. this is a divine combination too. Whatever the combination the morsel is not chewed!!! it is swallowed…Swallow tiny lumps!!!
Making this lump is not anyone’s cup of tea… it is a talent. Not enough if it is simply passed on from mother to daughter… it is indeed a skill that is mastered. People were indeed humble to call this mastery “lump” mudde.
The creation of a mudde, eating of a mudde both are skills.
And then one can say make the lump and eat it too….well I can
Nimboo da achar November 2, 2009
Posted by Tag a star in Punjab press.Tags: lemons, pickle, warmth
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Latala was any day the better choice to stay in Punjab. People were friendlier than the city folks I discovered this more practically.
Bindro auntie was one warm-hearted Punjabi I met. I know she is fond of me too. She said on more than one occasion “teri jaisi noo miljayae”. Meaning, she would like to have a daughter in law like me. She could also read through me and I was comfortable. Spent couple of minutes with her on some evenings on the way to the dairy or just like that.
What disappointed me about the village Latala is that huge courtyards hidden behind tall walls all cemented off. “Saaf ” Bindro auntie had one big plot and that was my feast to the eyes – lemon trees, guavatree, in summer there were bittergourd vines, squash, long squash, capscicum, chillies termeric.In winter there were green peas, carrots, radish, and variety of greens methae methi saron da saag palak and dhaniya.
My very first visit to her plot was during the summer days. Bright yellow and green lemons hung on trees. I was so glad when I saw them. Few days later I had walked up to her and asked if she would sell me a few. I wanted to make pickle them. She had told me then her sons did not have milk or tes and hence she made them lemon juice. Fruits from her garden was just sufficient and they were not for sale.
Many many weeks later auntie came to my home. She had something hidden beneath her dupatta. She gave me lots of lemons. She had lots of lemons and she would like to give me some. She also said that she remembered me asking her when I wanted to make pickles.
I was happy by her gesture and in return I filled up her container with a lot of Lemon pickle that I had done. I made lots of them.
The next afternoon she was back. She asked if she could have more, I was throughly flattered. I gave her more. She asked if I will teach her to make them. Sure.
Auntie asked me the list of ingredients that go into the pickle. I told her what all she should get. Auntie said she would get all the stuff and we can get together later in the afternoon and start making Achar. I told auntie that I will get to her place instead of carrying all the stuff and then carrying the heavy bottle back. She was a hard working woman not afraid of carrying a little weight, I insisted and auntie obliged. I would get a welcome break to go out in the Galli 
We got together at her place and started off. Made pickle of at least 2 kilos of lemons.
It was very nice to be sitting in her house. typical home structure of rural India. Interiors very cool, and the lighting was soft not too glaring not dark.
I did not even want a fan in there it was September and the humid days in Punjab were to stay for few more weeks
My palms were mildly coloured from the termeric and smelt divine of all the oil from the lemon peels.
It was a very happy day for me, a memory to treasure. It was nice to have met you Bindro Auntie. I love you and will always remember you.
Winter in the air November 1, 2009
Posted by Tag a star in Rreminiscence, Uncategorized.Tags: night, winter
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It is half past one at night. I stood by the window, it was a quiet moment. Something was not like everyday I thought. I figured that the street light has not been turned on this night. The realization made the night more calm.
Coolness touched my face and it made great relief to my eyes. I closed my eyes and drew an intentional, deep breath.
Cool air filling up my lungs, its passage through my nostrils, hitting the nasal cavity, the throat and then the pressure down the diaphragm made it a moment being present to the present.
This quite moment did trigger some distant memories.
Sweet memories.
The memories of winters from the past. As a ten-year old, as an eighteen-year old, a twenty-one year old.
Fragrance of the night made me feel so fresh.
Winter was in the air already. Today was the last day of October this year. It is November in the morning. Winter arriving!!!
I like the smells of the tree, leaves and bark in winter dawns and nights.
This is Bengaluru; the coldest winter I experienced here was 16°C. There is no musty odour in the air. Very few people light up a fire to keep warm. The scent in the air is pure.
Fond memories are from the walks I took in the misty mornings, in the midst of maize, fodder grasses on mud track. Mud tracks often crossed by trails of slugs and snails.
Pleasant memory of hearing an orchestra of chirping birds in the forests just before day-break.
Scent of the eucalyptus suspended in the mist.
Dew drops on the grass blades and on leaves of the hedges. Highlighted spittlebug nests on the hedges. Visual memories also came vividly alive by this fragrance of winter nights.
The star strewn nights we watched for endless hours of night. Crescent moons setting in the west, Venus Jupiter Mars and Saturn jewels in the starlight. An occasional comet. We saw comet Herschel in the north-western sky.
Moonsets! crescent moons setting behind tall trees……like a hammock being untied. Winter’s treats for the nocturnal soul.
Impressions October 29, 2009
Posted by Tag a star in Punjab press.Tags: children, memories
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The other day I uploaded pictures of my little dolls in a photo blog of mine.
Last year I spent many wonderful moments with these two little girls. I am apprehensive that they might forget their ‘arpana aunty’ or ‘arpan pooji’ as they get older. They will most certainly continue to be in my treasured memories. These two girls have given me so much to cherish. I remember them in my prayers. They brighten my mood when I think about them.
Of the many things I remember is how Jasmine spat out a sweet, or any eatable that tasted sweet. She would frown and look around not knowing where to put it out. Hold out the palm and the little one was simply prompt to come over and spit.
She had once gone with her mother to a house which was mourning the death of a son. it had left such a deep impact on her and she was scared to even converse with people.
Then like a magical entertainment for the stupid adults around this little one Jasmine would just sit in on the ground as she was walking. One knee folded perpendicular to the ground and the other parallel, one palm on her chest and the other on her head. Both hands simultaneously moved causing chest beating and head banging. She would cry aloud “hhaaai mera putt magggayyaaaa” repeatedly. Some nuts encouraged her to enact her wailing drama, it would upset me so much that I would talk something or do something to distract her. Nautanki khatam… elders go about their chores. Little one then went around doing anything else she pleased.
Then there is one other repetition of how the boy died, and it was a “boy” that died.
It saddened me to think how sometimes because of circumstances we allow children to pick up so much around us. We think they do not understand but they are constantly taking in so much.
Then there is my darling Baljyot. My constant evening companion. How amused she would get with my masala dabba. Seven assorted spices in their containers. Her game was to combine it all and then assort them… It scared me. Haldi,jeera,mustard,dahaniya,fenugreek,tinychillies,saunf…separate them all 
I started to hide it the moment she hollered Aaaauntieeeeeeee at the gate. She inspired me to become smarter.
She would promptly leave turning around from the door itself if there was no “cheezi”. Cheezi is junk food in their tongue.
I had many lessons from Baljyot about when I should be stirring my vegetables on the stove to how I must be pinching off dough, roll it out and then how to make phulkas. My method was different from what her mom did, so the right thing for her to do is correct Arpan auntiee.
The wonderful moments we spent with her lying upon me in the quiet of the twilight is one of the most fulfilling moments of mine. The young ones know just what they want.
The dolls did leave an impression upon me by being with me and by showing innocently what impressions had been left in their minds.
Under the makeshift sky October 26, 2009
Posted by Tag a star in Everday life.3 comments
Today it was just a day like one in summer! It is the last week of October. I miss the October it was when I was a 6-year-old.
I’m not too fond of the locality of the house we currently are staying. Knowing it is only for a few more days makes me feel good. It is noise from day break to the next daybreak. Cigarette smoke and vehicle fumes are complimentary.
Comming back to the summer day today…
It was afternoon, saw some ants walking on the corner of one of the walls. It was lit by the sun. The ants looked bright red and in full of life. Wanted to capture them in a camera moment. I fetched my camera went out and so had the sun… sun had moved too. A moment lost.
Going out all the same did pay.
Yesterday a function had been organised by someone down the road… can call them neighbours but only that I do not know them in person. Prosperous Marwadi Jains in Bengaluru. They had their function and to accomodate their guests they had a huge Pandal (like a marquee) put up on the road, covering half the width. The pandal was at least 120 – 130 feet long. Last night they had removed the walls of the pandal . Today it was a shaded corridor with to walk , ride or drive through. The ceiling of the corridor was adorned with pink and white buntings.
It was a hot day and people were going about their work, doing their chores. While I was standing in front of the wall with ants and no lights to Highlight my ants, I saw a woman walk down the road. She had a typical twisted face and I knew it was the glare of the sun that she had her face like that. Well I just knew it, and yes it was confirmed when she neared the remains of the pandal. her face all lit up she beamed. Her bosom beamed with joy. The blissful woman threw her head up and soaked up all the pink and white of the buntings. She walked at a leisurely pace under the make shift sky before proceeding on under the sun lit sky. I do not know if her face twisted again or she was happy to have walked in shade for some time Today.
I walked under the same Makeshift sky when I went out today
