Category Archives: Excerpt

Excerpt

Pongalo Pongal

Excerpt, When the Lotus Blooms, , , , , , , ,

Today on the occasion of Makara Sankranthi I was reliving the time I wrote an entire chapter in my book “When the Lotus Blooms,” about the festival of Pongal.

Pongal is a harvest festival, very important for farmers. For Tamils, it is a big occasion, with lots of preparation and festivity. Initially a celebration of the winter harvest, for farmers who toiled all year in the fields, Pongal celebrates the bounty of nature with great fanfare.

Many people believe it is Tamil New Year but that comes later in the year. I have very fond memories of Pongal which we thoroughly enjoyed especially if my grandmother Rajam was with us, as she was an outstanding cook. That was the only day in the year my mother allowed us to chew on sugar cane which she bought and washed thoroughly with soap and boiled water before serving us. Even though I grew up in Bombay I was never allowed to drink the notorious, diarrhea inducing sugarcane juice on the streets.

What was even more enjoyable was ‘Kanu” the next day. The colorful rice always attracted me and I loved watching the crows and sparrows vie with each other to get at the banana leaf laden with colored rice balls. I also remember how mad my mother got one time when our dog Raja decided to polish off the food! I didn’t realize we must be selective about our offerings.

The scene in the book shows the family gathered around the pongal pot which boils over, signifying prosperity in the future. Velandi the parayan watches the food being cooked, while hunger pangs in his belly distract him. Celebration in one household becomes the reason for envy in another.  The scene exemplifies opposites which continually rule our lives. Hunger and harvest, prosperity and desperation, bounty and death are all juxtaposed, mirroring the duality of perspective. Here is an excerpt from the book.

Nagamma had already put the rice and lentils into the pongal paanai and Sushila added the jaggery. The fire beneath the pot was flaming, burning bright and strong as the men kept adding more firewood so the pongal could boil faster. Balu had his brass plate and spoon ready and waited impatiently for the pongal to boil over. The water simmered as Nagamma added the milk. She turned to the family. “Pray all of you that as this pot of pongal boils over, so does our life boil over with good events and happiness.” She barely finished speaking when Balu noticed the pongal rapidly rising to the top of the clay pot.

“Pongalo pongal!” he yelled gleefully, hammering his spoon against the brass plate. Everyone shouted in unison, “Pongalo pongal!” clapping their hands and shouting as loudly as they could. Rajam stuck her tongue half out of her mouth, rapidly moving it from side to side in a warble louder than Sushila’s. Balu looked at her and tried to mimic her, but no one could hear his soft voice amidst the din. Rapidly removing some sticks of the firewood from under the pot, Nagamma reduced the intensity of the flame. The evil spirits hovering around the house were sure to have been frightened away with the racket they made. Rajam closed her eyes and prayed for all bad events to end and for new happy moments to surround their lives. In her mind she knew she was only praying for that one elusive event to take place.

When the Lotus Blooms has won two awards, one at the Great Southeast Book Festival and the other at the New England Book Festival.

Mahadevan’s Dilemma

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Colonial Rule has been controversial in many ways. Trying to make ends meet in the Pre-Independence Era resulted in being forced to make several tough choices. What I refer to as the “Babu Syndrome,”–the Brown Sahib complex or whatever…. had its downside. For many of the cerebral elite the choice was a tough one, which invoked walking the fine line between enslavement and revolution. Mahadevan is Dharmu’s husband, and through the book you see his mental anguish as he deliberates over his chosen path. Here is one instance….

The second shocker came when the Indian contingent went up to the top deck for dinner. Although they did not have to eat with the servants, who thankfully ate in a separate mess, they were all put together in two tables in one corner of the room. Mahadevan felt demeaned. All of this — sitting for the ICS, going to England — was in ardent pursuit for acceptance by the ruling class, to become part of the British elite. In reality, to the British he was nothing but another Indian, inferior to the British Brahmins. It was like climbing a steep slope and moving one step forward and three steps back. By dehumanizing the natives, the British rulers alienated large sections of the local population who fervently sought their expulsion from their land. Right now, Mahadevan was experiencing the very indignation and deep humiliation that gripped the land. But he recognized he was no Gandhi; he did not have the moral courage to languish in jail for a cause. Instead, he chose the path of least resistance, one that entailed mental enslavement to British colonialism, just like many Indian intellectuals all over the nation. He would become as British as the British. He would get into their minds and find what made them tick; he would show them that he was as good as any of them by becoming part of the cerebral elite.

Long and Complicated Tamil Brahmin Names

Excerpt, Themes, , ,

I had a difficult time deciding which names to use in the novel. Most Tamil brahmin names are long, and I knew a western audience would definitely have trouble getting their tongue around names like Mahadevan, Panchapakesan, and Doraiswamy. Unfortunately, using Jay and Ash; short forms that many Indians in the US have adopted, was not an option. The story had to be authentic.  So I decided to choose the middle path. I shortened some names Rajam, Dharmu, and Siva for example and of course Partha short for Parthasarathy.

This piece shows the anxiety and restlessness that meeting Rajam brings for Partha. Love at first sight only takes place in Romance novels…..or does it?

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Partha-Rajam’s husband

He had to meet her.  But how? He was 17 years old, definitely marriageable age. But how was he to approach her? He could not actually go up to her and speak with her directly; that wasn’t acceptable behavior. Then how was he to meet her? His mind whirled with a million unanswered questions popping into his head every second. One thing he knew was, if he were to marry, it would be to this girl. The “Lime and Spoon’ girl.”

The next few days were long and weary, with strategies made, vetoed, and then replaced, as Partha was consumed with finding the right course of action. He sat on the terrace with his math book open, rehearsing walking up to his mother and saying, “Amma, I think I want to get married.” That sounded too brazen. Then he switched to a more casual tone saying, “Amma, do you know Inspector Swaminathan?” That was too random. No matter what he tried, it just did not sound right. He had to make sure that he had an impeccable Plan A, so he did not have to resort to Plan B, which was marrying someone else.

After three full days of practicing, he decided the best course of action was to confide in his brother, Siva, who had been married for many years, and have him plead and present the case to his mother. That night, Partha brought Siva to the terrace after everyone was asleep and talked to him. At first, he felt sheepish and awkward talking about marriage, guilty about being preoccupied with a girl when he should have been studying, but the nature of the problem demanded urgency.

“Siva, you have to help me. I am going out of my mind.”

“Why? Did you fail your exams again?”

“No it’s not about school. It’s about …a girl.”

Siva smiled. “What’s up Partha, meet someone you like?”

“Yes,” Partha said bashfully. “And I need you to talk to Amma about it.”

“Why me? Why don’t you ask her yourself? After all, you are her Chella Kutti. I’ m sure she would oblige.”

“I may be her favorite, but I feel nervous about asking her. You are older and married. Coming from you, it will seem as if the whole thing were your idea. You know how Amma feels about boys loafing around. She won’t take me seriously.”

For the next 15 minutes, Partha talked nonstop about the pros of Siva talking toAmma, and the cons of talking to Amma himself. So intent was he on convincing Siva, he barely took time to breathe.  After he finished a 15-minute monologue, Siva smiled and patted him on the back, urging him to calm down and take a deep breath if he wanted to live to attend his own wedding.

Partha was overjoyed.