Deccan Herald - Sunday-Sunday Herald

"The loom for the weavers is what a brush is to a painter!" wrote famous artist Vincent Van Gogh when he did a series of paintings on a weaver and his loom, way back in 1884. Further he elaborated, "I assure you that there is a lot involved in composition with figures... it's like weaving... you must control and keep an eye on several things at once!''

What the artist wrote and felt about more than a century ago is true, even today, of every handloom weaver. There is a beautiful video uploaded on Facebook by Mumbai-based fashion designer Vaishali Shadangule showing the jamdani weavers working in Bengal. The intricate hand embroidery to get the right motifs that the weaver does simultaneously while weaving the sari is absolutely mesmerising, and in no way less artistic than a painting by Van Gogh, S Raza, Jehangir Sabavala, M F Hussain or others.

It's not only the jamdani weavers. If one visits paithani weavers in Paithan in Maharashtra, double ikat or patola weavers of Patan in Gujarat, ikat weavers in Mayurbhanj in Odisha, kanchivaram weavers from Kanchipuram in Tamil Nadu, banarasi weavers from Varanasi in Uttar Pradesh, and many other traditional handloom weavers from every state of India, one can see them work on their canvas of looms with various coloured silk and cotton threads to come out with a magnificent work of art in the form of handloom fabric.

But the world's famous painters' works fetch them lakhs and crores of rupees whereas the handloom weavers are hard-pressed to make both ends meet. Inconsistent and long hours of work, pitiable wages, and grim living conditions are making the present generation of workers leave their centuries-old art and migrate to cities in search of livelihood.

And the number of handloom weavers in India isn't small. According to the Ministry of Textiles, there are more than 43 lakh weavers working on nearly 24 lakh handlooms. But the designers and activists say there are more than two crores of them. The government data says the weavers produce some 7,203 million square metres of cloth, of which some is exported and some is consumed in the domestic market. The export market fetched nearly Rs 2,246 crores in 2014-15. There is no known data of returns from the domestic market.

According to the textile ministry statistics, Varanasi alone has nearly 90,000 weavers today, Telangana and Andhra Pradesh 3,55,000, Tamil Nadu 3,52,000, West Bengal 7,79,000, Bihar 37,000, Gujarat 9,500, Rajasthan 31,000, Jammu & Kashmir 21,000, Karnataka 90,000, and the count continues in every other state. The sad part is that the number of active traditional weavers in every state is falling alarmingly and unless some quick measures are taken, we might end up losing our rich traditional art forever.

In the last couple of years, media and fashion designers suddenly seem to have woken up to the presence of handloom weavers and the necessity to help them. Many fashion shows like the Lakme Fashion Week, India Couture Fashion Week, India Fashion week, India Bridal Fashion Week etc include a separate day for Indian textiles and designers to showcase only traditional weaves on that day. But, is this all really helping the weavers, or is this only a photo-op for the fashion weeks and the designers?

"I am still waiting to see fashion designers truly working at the grass roots and then highlighting the practitioners in an equal manner," observes former politician Jaya Jaitly, who has been a crusader for Indian crafts and textiles for 40 years now. Speaking further, the 74-year-old tireless social worker says, "Designers usually go to the best weavers so that their designs are superior right from the inception. And then focus on their brand name alone. I would like them to choose semi-skilled distressed weavers and raise their economic and confidence levels considerably."

In the modern days, Jaitly is one of the few women who have founded organisations solely to help Indian weavers and crafts. She founded Dastkari Haat Samiti way back in 1986, which is based on the idea of being an association of crafts people in which they decide and guide their own destiny with help from Jaitly and her group.

Then there is 69-year-old Laila Tyabji. A social worker who is better-known for her work as a craft revivalist and art designer, she is the founder of the NGO Dastkar, which is a society for crafts and crafts people and only works for the revival of traditional crafts in India. Tyabji also wants to make saris fashionable, trendy and cool for Gen Y. In fact, in the month of June, for 30 days, she made it a point to take a selfie of her wearing a different handloom sari everyday and post it on her Facebook account! Quoting Albert Einstein who had said, "I fear the day that technology will surpass our human interaction. The world will have a generation of idiots," she says, "We should not forget the power and creativity of human hand. Handloom has extraordinary design and skill traditions that are unique."

At the state level, too, there are a few organisations like SEWA in Gujarat, Boyanika in Odisha, Co-optex in Tamil Nadu, Rehwa in Madhya Pradesh etc.

And there are quite a few designers who are going all out to work with the handloom sector. In 2001, the Textile Committee of the Ministry of Textiles started a cluster development programme where 20 clusters from about 469 handloom clusters were zeroed in and many fashion designers have been part of this programme. In fact, designers like Anavila Misra, Sanjay Garg, and others have been a part of this programme. And since last year, designers like Ritu Kumar, Shaina N C, Anita Dongre and Rina Dhaka have stepped in to help the Banaras weavers as part of the government's initiative to help this sector.

"If weavers get enough work, the young ones will return home to their looms. They just need work and support," chorus fashion designers like Ritu Kumar (banarasi of Varanasi), Deepika Govind (eri and muga silk of Karnataka), Vaishali Shadangule (chanderi from MP, jamdani of Bengal, khand from Bagalkot), Sanjay Garg (chanderi from MP), Anita Dongre (tie & dye of Jaipur, chikankari from UP), Anavila Misra (linen from Bihar), Aneet Arora (embroidery and fabric from Rajasthan), Wendell Rodricks (kunbi sari of Goa) and every other designer who is trying to work with Indian handlooms, revive and save the traditional weavers and hundreds-of-years-old heirloom craft!

Elaborating on the initiatives to help the handloom sector, Ritu Kumar gave credit to the social reformer and freedom fighter, the late Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay, who identified the importance of the handloom sector. Chattopadhyay was the first driving force behind the renaissance of Indian handlooms, handicrafts and theatre soon after Independence. She was the one who was instrumental in setting up the All India Handicrafts Board way back in 1952.

Her efforts were followed by another stalwart, Pupal Jaykar, who was also known for the revival of Indian handlooms and handicrafts. In fact, at the behest of India's first prime minister Jawaharlal Nehru, she studied the handloom sector and worked out plans for its revival. Later, with support from the late prime ministers Indira Gandhi and Rajiv Gandhi, in the 1980s, she organised a series of Indian arts festivals in France, USA and Japan, which helped popularise Indian arts and handlooms in the West.

Behind the scene

All their efforts went kaput with the success of powerlooms and big textile mills. A handloom product is time-consuming. For example, depending on its intricacy, it takes days and months to weave a sari, whereas powerlooms produce hundreds of them in that period. Also, though the cost of establishment of powerlooms and textile mills may be thousand times more than that of handlooms, the faster pace of production makes the products purse-friendly and attractive to mass buyers.

Handloom can never be prêt, admit the designers. In fact, even in the olden times, handloom weavers flourished because of royal patronage. As and when the royal benefaction fell, weavers started facing a decline in their earnings. There was a conscious shift by the aam junta towards adopting designs imported from England and France. Motifs such as badam (almonds), kairi (mango), kamal (lotus), mor (peacock), butis (small flower clusters), the shikargah (hunting scene) etc were replaced by rosettes, geometric patterns and others that were popular in the British designs.

"Many of our handloom weavers and skills were taken away to Britain by the British, and if we don't look after the remaining sectors, by next century we might even lose these heritage weaves of ours," lamented Shadangule who recently showcased at NY Fashion Week in the emerging designer's section. Her entire collection consisted of only Indian handlooms under the collection titled 'And quiet flows the thread'.

Besides the skills of the weavers, the beauty of Indian textiles is due to the handmade natural yarn — be it cotton or silk. The texture of the handmade yarn itself is so beautiful that it adds its own design and beauty to the fabric. And, even though the yarn is thick, it retains its utter softness, making even a nine-yard ornately woven sari from Banaras or Paithan a delightful experience for the wearer.

Designer Anavila Misra, famous for her linen saris, endorses this observation. She says, "Indian fabrics and textiles are so fine that one needs to just play with the colours and textures to create a dream pattern!"

But, because of the painstaking yarn-making process, it costs more. This was another reason for the declining popularity of the handloom sectors as traditional weavers found themselves competing with other weavers and powerlooms which started using cheaper silk yarns from China. The cheap Chinese silk yarn certainly didn't have the quality of Indian silks. They were stiff and bulkier, making the wearer quite uncomfortable. This resulted in the buyers moving away from traditional handlooms to chiffons, georgette, net or other synthetic yarns, which complemented a body-shape-conscious woman.

This was also the time when size zero gained popularity and the buxom Indian woman became unfashionable. Equally to blame were the fashion designers who, keeping in mind the cravings of the new era woman to look thistle-thin, continued to design using non-handloom fabrics. Of course, the biggest culprit was the film industry where female actors looked ethereal in diaphanous chiffon saris. For an average Indian woman, Bollywood is the trendsetter.

"Small towns copy what becomes fashionable in big cities. They follow the trends of movie stars and fashion from society magazines. I am horrified that such an influential section of society happily wears Western attire that does not suit the Indian physique or skin colour at all. Yet, a Vidya Balan or a Katrina Kaif wearing a handloom sari has created a rage. I beg more of them to do service to society by shopping more for lovely handlooms and flaunting them with pride," urged Jaitly.

Another reason for the declining popularity of handlooms is the misconception that they are fit only for ethnic apparel, and as they are expensive, they are meant only for special occasions.

This is where every designer is pitching in to popularise the handlooms. Even though all of them don't exactly interact at grass-roots level with weavers, they are innovating in style. So every fashion week, well-known shopping malls, prestigious boutiques, and of course, every designer, showcases handlooms in contemporary designs. Every collection will have short kurtis, tunics, jackets, palazzos, short tops, gowns, bustier, besides of course, the evergreen salwar kameez beautifully designed using chanderi, paithani, banaras, maheshwari, ikat, jamdani, muga and other handlooms. At any given time and event, the charm of these clothes overshadows all other highly expensive and highly embellished designer wear.

"A handloom sari too can look trendy to suit the 20-30-year-old's psych of looking 'cool'," says designer Deepika Govind. "All they have to do is replace the traditional blouse with a top of their liking, drape the sari differently, and replace their traditional footwear with anything they like. Especially for Indian weather, there is nothing more comfortable than handloom cotton tops, skirts, bottoms and jackets. If accessorised properly, every attire can look trendy and comfy!"

A smiling Jaitly says, "I have heard young men say they love saris and that I should encourage young women to wear handloom saris! So I am using this opportunity to pass on their message."

Jaya Jaitly, founder of Dastkari Haat Samiti, creator of the concept of Dilli Haat, and a tireless worker for the handloom and crafts people, in a brief conversation:

More than fashion designers, do we need textile designers to bring in the changes in
the design section of traditional textiles?

You hit the nail on the head. Textile designers and experts are needed to develop new textures, materials, weaves and patterns that suit the needs of their 'silhouettes' rather than rejecting existing fabrics because they do not suit a Western cut or are only used for 'oriental' or exotic looks.

What steps need to be taken to woo the youth to the handlooms? Also, are these clothes cost-effective?

I have developed many handlooms that are not expensive. Many times, the price addition is in the mark up for sales infrastructure, middleman's profit or seller's commission. Also, most people are not educated about the nature and value of handlooms. Ethnic can be made really fashionable by using organic cotton, natural dyes and sophisticated styling.

You have been working with handloom workers from other countries. How are they
different from our craftspeople?

African countries do more printing and dyeing than weaving. Their output is very local. Eygptian weavers took training from us. Thailand and Vietnam do highly developed work. They have learnt from us and taught us too. They are more sophisticated and fine-tuned in their market approach.

The government and the textile ministry formulate many steps to help the crafts
people. Does that help reach the bottom?

That is too vast a question to answer here. They do admit that benefits do not reach the poor because programmes are badly structured and dishonestly implemented by intermediaries. There is a renewed interest in the Ministry of Textiles to try new approaches to address old problems. Let's hope it works.

While legend has it that Turkic ruler Tamerlane was responsible for biryani's entry into India, hidden in layers of rice, spices and succulent meat are little stories of people who have Indianised it into different variants. Anurag Mallick & Priya Ganapathy follow India's biryani trail

In a dark sooty kitchen in Mysuru's Lashkar Mohalla, with only a shaft of light slanting through a glass tile, Sadiq bhai stirred a huge cauldron of boiling oil sizzling with onions. Two wide steel vessels had the choicest cuts of fresh pink meat. In another vessel, water was already on the boil and a woven basket on the floor held a heap of washed rice waiting to be transformed into Nasheman's signature mutton biryani. Sadiq bhai was one of the countless practitioners of a well-guarded craft using secrets handed down by elders.

There is something remarkable in the manner in which humble rice is elevated to a heavenly dish fit for kings and commoners alike, with just a play of ingredients, flavours and techniques. In Tamil Nadu, an ancient text refers to "oon soru", a dish of rice, clarified butter, bay leaf, turmeric, coriander, pepper and meat that was served to warriors. Though synonymous with Indian cuisine, the biryani is an import from West Asia, more specifically, Persia. The word biryani is thought to have originated from the Persian 'birian', or 'fried before cooking', or 'birinj', meaning rice.

The washed rice is fried in butter or ghee before being cooked in boiling water — this not only imparted a mild nuttiness to the rice, but also ensured that the grains retained their shape after cooking.

Since medieval times, the recipe of a good biryani has been simple — rice and meat set in layers with spices varying from few to 15. Traditionally, long-grain brown rice was used; now the scented basmati rice is preferred. In South India, local varieties like kaima or jeerige sanna provide their own distinct flavour to the dish. The meats vary from goat, sheep, poultry, beef, eggs to seafood. Fragrance heightens its appeal and biryanis are scented with rosewater, ittar, kewra water and saffron. The cooking technique can be kachchi (raw) where the meat is layered with raw rice in a handi or pot, or pakki (cooked) where cooked rice and meat are layered together.

Legend has it that Turkic conqueror and founder of the Timurid Empire, Tamerlane, was responsible for biryani's entry into India. Apparently, in 1398, he served a rudimentary form of biryani to his soldiers at India's frontiers. The hearty dish of rice, spices and meats was slow-cooked in hot buried pits which were dug out at meal time. While biryani may have martial origins, there was always a certain romance associated with it. Perhaps the fact that Mumtaz, the inspiration behind India's celebrated monument of love, the Taj Mahal, had something to do with it! It is said Mumtaz once visited the Mughal army barracks and was appalled by the poor nutrition of the soldiers. She ordered the cook to prepare a wholesome meal that blended meat and rice. And thus the biryani was born...

The stories may be apocryphal, but there's no doubt that the Mughals played their part in the popularity and dispersal of the biryani across their vast dominion.

Whether it was the nawabs of Oudh (Awadh) in Lucknow or the nizams of Hyderabad, the biryani blossomed into regional variations wherever it went. Take Moradabad, founded in 1625 and named after Murad Buksh, son of Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan. As craftsmen and cooks migrated from Afghanistan and Arabia, the city gained a reputation for brassware and biryani. The Moradabadi Biryani is low on spices and there's no better place to taste it than Alam Biriyaniwala on Galshaheed Road.

While the biryani's journey from Persia via the Mughals is incredible, the way it was Indianised into different variants is equally amazing. Patronised by royalty, every region, community or geographic condition led to modifications or refinements. The Hyderabadi biryani developed under Asaf Jah I of Hyderabad. Arab nobleman Mir Qamar-ud-Din Siddiqi, appointed by Aurangzeb as the Deccan viceroy between 1713 and 1721, founded the Asaf Jahi dynasty after the death of the Mughal emperor.

Inspired by Persian society and their Turko-Mongol Mughal overlords, the Nizams patronised art, literature, culture and cuisine. It is said their khansamas (royal chefs) could prepare over 50 types of biryani using shrimp, quail, fish, deer, hare and saffron-infused rice. Another specialty was the delicate Doodh ki Biryani cooked with creamy milk, roasted nuts and aromatic spices.

Dum maaro dum
However, the quintessential Hyderabadi dum biryani is made with basmati rice, spices and goat meat in a style known as kachchi yakhni or kachche gosht ki biryani.

The marinated meat is cooked along with raw rice layered with fried onions, chilies, mint and sprinkled with kewra, rose water and saffron. The dish is sealed with dough and left on slow fire or dum for a fragrant and aromatic flavour. It is often accompanied by a boiled egg and raita. While Paradise may have opened multiple branches, locals swear by smaller establishments for the real taste of paradise — Hotel Shadaab near Charminar, Parvez Hotel at Nampally, Hotel Sohail in Malakpet and Cafe Bahar in Basheer Bagh.

One variant, the Kalyani biryani, dubbed the 'poor man's Hyderabadi biryani', originated in Bidar in North Karnataka, during the reign of the Kalyani nawabs who migrated to Hyderabad after Nawab Ghazanfur Jang married into the Asaf Jahi family.

The Kalyani biryani was served by the Kalyani nawabs to guests from Bidar who visited their mansion in Hyderabad. Later, their cooks went independent and introduced the Kalyani biryani to the local populace. The Kalyani biryani is characterised by small cubes of buffalo meat flavoured with ginger, garlic, turmeric, red chili, cumin, coriander powder, lots of onion and tomato, made into a thick curry and cooked in dum style along with rice.

While the Hyderabadi biryani uses ground masalas, the Awadhi or Lucknow biryani is characterised by whole spices and yellow chili powder for a mild, flavourful dish. The rice is cooked separately in spices, and marinated chicken is added later. The ambience may not win any Michelin stars, but locals queue up at Lucknow's legendary hole-in-the-wall eateries like Lalla Biryani at Chaupatiya Chowk, Wahid Biryani in Aminabad and Idris ki Biryani at Patanala near Kotwali Chowk Bazaar.

The Calcutta biryani, a Lucknowi variant, evolved when Awadh's last Nawab Wajid Ali Shah was exiled to Kolkata in 1856. Settled in the suburb of Metiabruz, the nawab brought his personal chef with him. It is said the poorer households of Kolkata that could not afford meat, supplemented it with potatoes, which became a local specialty. The subtle biryani uses nutmeg, cinnamon, mace, cloves and cardamom in the yoghurt-based marinade for the meat which is cooked separately from the rice.

The rice is flavoured with ketaki water or rose water along with saffron for flavour, and a light yellow colour. The accompaniment is raita and kosha mangsho (mutton curry), best ordered from Arsalan and Nizam's. In nearby Barrackpore, at Dada-Boudi Biryani, locals buzz around like bees to take away biryani by the boxfuls as large vessels simmer in the back alley.

As far as the original Mughlai biryani goes, one can still find the authentic taste in Delhi's crammed alleys. Tempered with saffron and enriched with nuts, the mild biryani can be sampled at Al Jawahar near Jama Masjid or Nasir Iqbal in Nizamuddin.

The legendary Karim's, ranked by Time Magazine among the best non-veg restaurants in Asia, was started in 1913 by Haji Karimuddin, who traces his origins to the Mughal court. After the last Mughal King Bahadur Shah Zafar was deposed and the British crushed the 1857 Sepoy Mutiny, many royal cooks fled from Lal Qila and sought shelter in neighbouring Uttar Pradesh. In 1911, when the Delhi Durbar was held, several khansamas returned to Delhi to cater to the crowds flocking for the coronation of King George V. Starting with a small dhaba serving rumali rotis with alu gosht and daal, Karimuddin established Karim Hotel in Jama Masjid's Gali Kababian in 1913 with the lofty aim to 'serve royal food to the common man'.

The biryani criss-crossed the country and imbibed spices and flavours from each region to create versions iconic to places or communities. Of the dozen-odd styles found in India, surprisingly, most variations are in the south, whether it's the spicy Andhra biryani dished out at RRR Mess in Mysuru and Nagarjuna in Bengaluru, or the current rage donne biryani, served piping hot in a donne (arecanut palm leaf cup).

Share elbow space with diehard patrons at the Gundappa Shivaji Military Hotel in Bengaluru, or Hanumanthu's in Mysuru. Biryani purists may scoff that these are technically pulaos and unless it's layered, it ain't biryani, but the proof of the pudding lies in eating it! Mysuru is also known for its Tahari Biryani made with vegetables, popularised during the reign of Tipu Sultan. Beans, carrots and potatoes are cooked along with rice to create a tasty veg dish that was attributed to the austere vegetarian book-keepers in Tipu's administration.

High on popularity
Wherever there was a high Muslim population, the biryani gained tremendous popularity. Current favourite Ambur Biryani was first introduced by the nawabs of Arcot and spread by their royal cooks in Ambur and Vaniyambadi villages of Vellore district in north-eastern Tamil Nadu. The most famous among them was Hasin Baig, who opened a small eatery at his hometown on NH4 (Bengaluru-Chennai highway).

Today, Ambur's Star Biryani has branches in Chennai and Bengaluru, offering seven types of biryani, including a Chicken 65 Biryani! Ambur regulars, however, swear by Hotel Rahmaniya. Authentic Ambur Biryani does not use garam masala or coriander powder as the red chili paste imparts spice and taste. It has a distinct aroma and the moderate use of spice and curd as a gravy base makes it easy to digest. It also has a higher ratio of meat to rice and is typically served with dalcha, a sour brinjal curry, or kathirikai pachadi (khatte baingan).

Another legend in the galaxy of stellar biryani makers is Dindigul's Thalpakatti Biryani. What started off in 1957 as a humble betelnut shop and a four-seater Anandha Vilas Biriyani Hotel is today the first non-veg South Indian restaurant to open in Paris! Its founder, Nagasamy Naidu, sported a thalapa (traditional turban), hence the hotel's popular name Thalappakatti. Tamil star Sivaji Ganesan often made a ritual stop for the Thalappakatti Biriyani while visiting his farmhouse at Soorakottai nearby. The Dindigul Biryani uses flavourful parakkum sittu or seeragasamba rice, top quality meat sourced from the cattle markets of Kannivadi and Paramathi, besides curd and lemon juice for the signature tang. Mutton bones are boiled and brinjal, potato and pulses are added to create an accompaniment called dalcha.

Many biryani varieties found on India's eastern coast can be traced to traders from Arabia who sailed to port cities from Kutch to Karavali. The Spice Coast of Malabar, Kerala's northern region stretching from Kasaragod to Kozhikode, has drawn Arab traders for centuries. Over time, they married local women and created a new Muslim community called the Mappilas (anglicised to Moplah). Thalassery, Malabar's culinary capital, is known for its delectable biryani made from chicken, local spices, ghee and small-grained, fragrant kaima or jeerakasala rice. The chicken and rice are prepared separately and layered together for a final dum, sealing the lid with dough and placing red hot charcoals above the lid. Very little chili is used, leading to a subtle dish served with raita, date pickle and coconut-coriander chutney.

And it's no secret, the best Thalassery biryani is in Paris. No, not Eiffel Tower, Louvre, Paris, but a tiny shack on Thalassery's Logan Road called Paris. When cooks from Thalassery moved to Calicut, it led to a new coinage — Kozhikode or Malabar Biryani. Besides meat, local cooks also turned to the bountiful sea to make fish, crab or prawn biryani, sometimes with a variation of vermicelli. Ayisha Manzil, a heritage homestay at Thalassery, teaches the nuances of Moplah cuisine.

In Mangaluru, the South Canara trading community of Bearys (derived from Tulu 'byara', meaning trade) have their own distinct cuisine. Like Mangalorean food, they use coconut, curry leaves, ginger, chilli, spices like pepper and cardamom. Further up the Karavali coast, the Navayaths of Bhatkal are originally migrants from Arabia and Persia, who married into local Jain trading families to form a new community called Navayaths or the 'newly arrived'. Like their language Navayathi, their cuisine too is an amalgam of Persian, Arabic, Marathi, Urdu and Konkani. The Navayathi biryani too has a vermicelli version and is served with baingan ka khatta (tangy brinjal curry) and sirke ka pyaz (onions in vinegar).

Ever heard of a biryani without rice? The Dawoodi Bohras are an Ismaili Shia sect residing in Mumbai, Gujarat and western India. Like their language — a dialect of Gujarati mixed with Arabic and Urdu — their biryani is also unique, made with patrel or colocasia leaves, and heavily flavoured with tomatoes. Firoz Farsan in Mumbai's Bohri Mohalla dishes out a limited quantity of the Bohri patra biryani every Sunday.

The Sindhi Biryani has a pleasing bouquet of flavours using scented spices, roasted nuts, green chillies, sour yoghurt and tangy aloo bukhara (plums). The Memons of Gujarat-Sindh have a spicy Memoni biryani made with lamb, yoghurt, fried onions, potatoes and fewer tomatoes and less food colouring than the Sindhi version. The naturally rich colours of the meat, rice and vegetables are pleasing to the eye and palate. Even far-flung Assam has a Kampuri biryani, where chicken is cooked with peas, carrots, beans, potatoes and yellow bell peppers, spiced up with cardamom and nutmeg, and mixed with rice.

The recipe of a good biryani is often a closely guarded secret handed down generations, be it in homes, royal kitchens or restaurants. Hidden in layers of rice, spices and succulent meat are little stories of nameless and famous people who have contributed gems to India's culinary treasures. Today, preparing biryani has a celebratory connotation, a complex culinary creation that requires, above all, other ingredients, love and patience. Else, the world would be happy with fried rice!

It is an interesting fact of India's long political history that her boundaries — both inner and outer — have remained remarkably flexible and fluid.

Both kept expanding and contracting with the change in the ruler or the regime. Even the inner lines were often drawn, not according to geographical factors, but the discretion of the ruler, the pattern of conquest, and the convenience of revenue collection. The Mughals divided India into Subas each with its own jagirdar and mansabdar. The British drew the inner lines very differently from the Mughals.

They replaced the Subas with presidencies (such as Bengal, Bombay and Madras presidencies) and provinces (Punjab, UP, CP among others). It was, however, in the 1920s that Congress, as the leader of the freedom struggle, evolved an entirely new criterion for creating administrative divisions. Congress decided to make language the major determinant in the creation of administrative units within India. Congress also organised its provincial units on linguistic basis. And so, Congress did not have a Madras Presidency provincial Congress but Tamilnadu Congress Committee, Andhra Congress Committee, Karnataka Congress Committee and Kerala Congress Committee.

By contrast, the administrative units created by the British paid no attention to the language principle. Both the Bombay and Madras presidencies were linguistically very plural where no single language dominated. Madras Presidency (consisting of most of present-day South India minus the princely states of Hyderabad and Mysore) had a large number of Telugu, Oriya, Malayalam and Kannada speakers. Likewise, Bombay Presidency had, apart from Marathi speakers, a large number of Gujarati, Sindhi and Kannada speakers. The speakers of Kannada language were thus scattered in Madras and Bombay presidencies, and in the princely state of Mysore. However, given the Congress preference for linguistic principle for administrative purposes, it was hoped that once India became independent, its major language zones would also become the main administrative zones.

However, the vision of creating a strong India divided into administrative zones based on language received a major setback with the partition in 1947. The partition shook the foundations of a confident Indian nation. It appeared that the national unity could no longer be taken for granted and had to be protected against certain political tendencies from within. It was felt that a strong linguistic passion, bordering on chauvinism, could be one such tendency. It began to be argued that strong linguistic passions might come in the way of national considerations. The possibility that the national unity could be put to a test if strong linguistic sub-nationalisms developed, may have made the Indian leaders rethink their earlier commitment to the creation of linguistic administrative zones.

Against all odds

There was now a new reluctance to draw the boundaries on linguistic basis. This reluctance was widely shared among national leaders as diverse as Gandhi, Nehru, Patel, K M Munshi and Ambedkar. Commenting on the possibility of creating linguistic provinces, Nehru informed the Constituent Assembly immediately after independence: "First things must come first and the first thing is the security and stability of India." The Constituent Assembly set up a Linguistic Provinces Commission, popularly known as Dar Commission, to enquire into the desirability of the creation of linguistic provinces such as Andhra, Kerala, Karnataka and Maharashtra.

The Commission, in its report, recommended against any reorganisation on linguistic basis only. The Commission emphasised that everything which helped the growth of nationalism had to go forward and everything which impeded it had to be rejected. This was also the view of the Committee, constituted by Congress on the same question in 1948 (generally known as JVP committee after its leaders Jawaharlal Nehru, Vallabhbhai Patel and Pattabhi Sitaramayya). The Congress Committee advocated the adoption of a cautious approach on creating administrative sub-units on linguistic basis. Quite clearly there was a new recognition that language was not simply a binding force in the society. It could also be a powerful dividing force.

It appears that on this question there was a divide not among the leaders, but between the leaders and the people. The reluctance of the national leaders, Constituent Assembly and the Indian government was contrasted by vehement passion among the people in favour of creating linguistic provinces. The initiative for creating linguistic provinces actually came from below.

From 1948 onwards the demand for a Punjabi Suba (linguistically homogeneous Punjabi State) began to be voiced in Punjab and the Akali Party assumed the leadership of this movement. In the Andhra area, a part of Madras State, Potti Sriramulu, a Gandhian social activist, committed suicide by going on a fast unto death in support of the demand for the creation of an Andhra state of Telugu-speaking people. The death of Potti Sriramulu triggered violence and protests in the Telugu-speaking areas in the erstwhile Madras state in support for the state of Andhra.

Conceding before the protest, Indian government announced in December 1952 the creation of a separate Andhra state consisting of the Telugu-speaking areas. Fearing that this may open a Pandora's Box and unleash more linguistic passions all over, Nehru decided to set up a States Reorganisation Commission (SRC) in December 1953 to examine "objectively and dispassionately" the question of the reorganisation of the states of the Indian Union "so that the welfare of the people of each constituent unit as well as the nation as a whole is promoted." The Commission was chaired by Sir Fazl Ali, ex-judge of the Supreme Court, with K M Panikkar and Hriday Nath Kunzru as the other members.

On popular demand

The SRC started working by ascertaining public opinion by inviting written memoranda, suggestions and proposals. The Commission received a total of 1,52,250 documents from the people, indicating the extent of popular interest in the question of states reorganisation. The SRC also toured large parts of the country to meet people and covered a distance of over 80,000 miles. They interviewed over 9,000 people from various walks of life. The people interviewed included members of political parties, public associations, social workers, journalists, municipal and district board representatives and other people representing cultural, educational, linguistic and local interests. The Commission also made on-the-spot studies at different places to understand the background of the problem and the popular sentiment on various aspects of reorganisation.

Quite obviously, the most important question before the SRC was to examine the possibility of creating linguistic states. The question was indeed very complex and there was no simple answer to it. There were some clear advantages in creating administrative units based on language. If administrative boundaries were based on language, people could easily identify with the administration. The language of administration would be in the language of the people. It could also facilitate literacy and education. Language being an important part of culture, it would also satisfy cultural aspirations of the people. It appears that this was how the problem was viewed by the people. A large number of memoranda submitted to the Commission made a strong plea for creating linguistic states.

The proposals and appeals argued that "linguistic groups are distinct societies and cultural entities", "the unity of language denotes membership of a common society possessing a common cultural, literary and historical tradition", and that in a federation "the federating units must be based on socio-cultural homogeneity as denoted by unity of language." The memoranda made a forceful plea that in the Union of India the states must necessarily conform to the linguistic test more than any other.

However, there were some disadvantages also in submitting to the language principle in states reorganisation. Language loyalties, bolstered by administrative boundaries, could develop into sub-nationalisms and play a disruptive role. It could turn one language group against the other. The Kannada linguistic assertion could come into conflict against Tamil domination, Oriya against Bengali, and so on.

The problem was exacerbated by the fact that all the regions and administrative units created by the British had the presence of strong linguistic minorities all over. It was simply not possible to carve out administrative units in such a manner so as to make them congruent with linguistic divide. This was inevitable given the fact that language communities in India did not live in isolation and multiple language groups lived together in an entangled manner. Territories could not be neatly demarcated on the basis of language only.

For these reasons it was becoming clear to the leadership that states based exclusively on linguistic principle would create more problems than solve them. Yet the language claims emanating from the people could not be easily overlooked. Nehru highlighted three important criteria, viz., unity of India, national security specially for frontier areas, and the preservation of India's federal structure, as crucial in carving out administrative zones. As far as language was concerned, Nehru asserted in the Lok Sabha: "I attach the greatest importance to language but refuse to associate it necessarily with a state." He urged the Commission to see the picture of India as a whole and not piecemeal for every region.

Quite clearly, there was a hiatus between the all-India perspective of leaders and the local aspirations on the ground. The whole issue of state formation appeared very different from different vantage points. From the pan-Indian vantage point, the most important consideration was to maintain the unity of India and not do anything that might create fissiparous openings and weaken the unity. It was increasingly being seen that the language passions could weaken the unity, just as religious passions had done a decade before, in the 1940s, leading to the making of Pakistan. From the vantage point of the people, states reorganisation was an occasion to recognise and feed into the legitimate language patriotism of the people.

This, then, was the dilemma before the SRC. A new map of India was to be drawn and could not be done by entirely disregarding the wishes of the people. Giving in to the language claims might satisfy the linguistic aspirations of the people. Or, alternatively, it might elevate language patriotisms to the level of sub-nationalisms and create conflicts. The choice was not going to be easy either way.

The report of the SRC was made public in 1956 and went a long way in recognising language as a criterion in state making. All the existing states based on language were retained. In addition, the SRCcreated three new states — Karnataka, Kerala and Vidarbha — based on Kannada, Malayalam and Marathi respectively. However, the SRC made three exceptions to the principle of creating congruence between states and language. The report kept Andhra and Telengana separate on the ground that Telengana was a stable and a viable unit and that fears existed among its people that they might be "swamped and exploited by the people of Andhra". It was therefore decided to keep the two Telugu-speaking zones separate.

A provision was however made for the union of the two Telugu-speaking states after the general elections of 1962, if the 2/3rd majority in the state legislature supported the union of the two.

Second exception was the refusal to divide the Marathi- and Gujarati-speaking people of the Bombay state. Likewise, the demand to make Punjab into an exclusive Punjabi-speaking state, by separating Hindi-speaking areas from it, was also not accepted. Punjab was to remain a mixed zone of Punjabi and Hindi speakers. In both the cases the SRC decided to retain the composite character of the regions, Punjab and Bombay, respectively, and not split them up on the basis of language.

Strong reactions

As soon as the contents of the report were made public, very strong reactions came from many regions. In the north, Master Tara Singh, a vociferous advocate of the Punjabi Suba movement, condemned the report for not making Punjab an exclusively Punjabi-speaking state. In western India, both the Marathi and Gujarati speakers were up in arms against the report and against each other. Both wanted a separate linguistic state of their own and wanted Bombay city to be a part of their state. In south, controversy arose over the proposed merger of the erstwhile Mysore state with the newly created Karnataka.

The representatives from Mysore protested against the merger of their state with what they considered to be a "backward Karnataka" and were apprehensive that their growth would be stunted and retarded. But the most violent reaction to the report came from western India, where a huge riot broke out in which nearly 300 people were killed and over 500 injured.

It was then in 1960 that the erstwhile Bombay state was divided between a Marathi-speaking Maharashtra and a Gujarati-speaking Gujarat, with Bombay city going to Maharashtra. Finally, in 1966, Indira Gandhi, the new prime minister of India, accepted the demand of the Akali Party to make Punjab an exclusive Punjabi-speaking area. The Hindi-speaking areas were separated from Punjab and constituted into a separate state of Haryana. It was thus that the prolonged process of carving out new states that was started in 1956, culminated in 1966, a decade later. In the new boundaries that were drawn, the language principle was given the utmost consideration. This was against the wishes of the leaders, but perfectly in harmony with what the people wanted.

Bowing to pressure

Thus it was that on the question of linguistic provinces the top leadership gave in to the pressures from below. Since then this has generally been treated as the legitimate criterion for redrawing the administrative boundaries of the old states. In the 1950s many people warned Nehru against this on the ground that it might lead to a linguistic balkanisation of the country.

It was predicted that states thus formed would soon develop strong regional identities based on language and culture and would even be prepared to go to war against each other. This would retard the process of nation formation, and the growth of a national culture. It can however be concluded that the worst fears expressed in the 1950s and 1960s have turned out not to be the case. The disastrous consequences of linguistic chauvinism, as anticipated, have not materialised.

On the other hand, the Indian polity appears to have evolved a suitable mechanism which, in consistence with national priorities, can be utilised for redrawing the administrative boundaries of the country. The creation of linguistic states, in the context of the 1950s, appeared to many to be the problem and an obstacle in the creation of a national culture, language and polity. However, it should now be possible to look upon the linguistic state, not as a problem, but rather as a solution to the problem of strong linguistic passions.

The SRC, to its credit, decided to listen to the voices of the people and allowed the popular preference to supersede its own reservations on the creation of linguistic states. The work of the States Reorganisation Commission, it can be safely concluded, was a victory of the people and a triumph of the Indian democracy.

(The writer teaches history at Ambedkar University Delhi)

Stop me if you've heard this before. Life has become horrible. There is interminable war on in the Middle East, and terrorists are everywhere. On one hand, malnourished people are dying, and on the other, obesity is killing us. Everywhere you look, you see land disputes, property disputes, water disputes, scams and problems. If all these are not enough to cast a blight on life, public holidays fall on Sundays and police presence is preventing bandh holidays. What is this world coming to? Sigh! There is nothing to smile about, is there?

Well, I beg to disagree. For starters, have you looked in the mirror lately? You have? Then you know that there is one person who can always make you laugh — Yourself! Yes, when you are able to laugh at yourself, you are never without a joke.
"How is it that you've put on weight? You are a vegetarian," said someone to me. I replied, "Yes, and so are elephants and whales." The other person couldn't help laughing through their apologies. If I took myself too seriously, that remark would have ruined my day. As it worked out, my day was made — I felt better about myself.

Humour is very important because it lightens the load of life and makes it worthwhile. Life is not a competition, and there are no winners or prizes given at the end of it. There is no point in taking life too seriously because, as someone once pointed it out, we're not going to get out of it alive. All those things we are worried over now won't matter a matchstick when we are dead. Charlie Chaplin described it perfectly when he said, "Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long-shot."

And one of the best kinds of humour is self-deprecating humour, where you poke fun at yourself. While laughing at someone is the worst sort of humiliation a person can inflict on another, self-mockery takes the sting out of words by aiming it at yourself instead. To be honest, laughing at yourself isn't something new; others are doing it anyway.

When you laugh at yourself, you offend no one. You may even pre-empt nasty personal comments by others about you. One Multiple Sclerosis patient made light of the uncontrollable movements caused by the disease, remarking, "One good thing about Multiple Sclerosis is I don't have to worry about stirring my coffee anymore."
Self-deprecating humour is not hurtful or belittling, as it is not aimed outward. As Mary Hirsch says, it is like a rubber sword, making a point without drawing blood. It invites people to laugh with you, and not at you. "Some people are saying that the reason Michael Phelps wasn't doing so well for a while was because he let himself get too out of shape," quipped Conan O'Brien. "I just have to say that I have been watching the Olympics, and if that guy is out of shape, I have been dead for five years."

"They all laughed at me when I said I wanted to be a comedian," said Bob Monkhouse, an English entertainer, "Well, they are not laughing now!" The nuances in this comment makes one think, and that is what this kind of humour does. It gets people's attention, making them listen even as they laugh, and pulls them closer with a common bond. A message emblazoned on the T-shirt of a pot-bellied man reads 'Six-pack coming soon', and you find yourself chuckling as well as commiserating with him.

Making a joke about your own situation makes life more bearable by lessening negativity and diffusing tension. When astronaut John Glenn was strapped into his seat in the spacecraft in the highly-stressful minutes before take-off, he joked, "Oh my god, I'm sitting on a pile of stuff created by the lowest bidder."

Laughing about oneself also makes a person sound more human and equalises the situation. George W Bush, in his commencement speech at Yale, remarked slyly, "Most important, congratulations to the class of 2001. To those of you who received honours, awards and distinctions, I say, well done. And to the C students — I say, you, too, can be the president of the United States." Another president too had no illusions about himself. When an opponent called him two-faced, Abraham Lincoln responded, "If I were two-faced... would I be wearing this one?"

Similarly, wildly successful horror author Stephen King has no illusions about his place in the world of literature when he says, "I am the literary equivalent of a Big Mac and Fries."

Life has two sides to it, and when you flip over the tragedy-heartaches-and-disappointments side, it can show its lighter perspective. Author David Sedaris said it best: "At the end of a miserable day, instead of grieving my virtual nothing, I can always look at my loaded wastepaper basket and tell myself that if I failed, at least I took a few trees down with me."

However, self-mockery or self-deprecation has its dark side. You may be aware of your strengths as well as your weaknesses, but all the others will see are your weaknesses. Sometimes people take your jokes about your own incompetence seriously and get a completely bad opinion of you.

Once, when I was with a group of friends, I made a small joke about how I wasn't a good cook, expecting to be contradicted by a friend who liked my cooking. To my utter shock, she agreed with what I said, and I ended up feeling hurt. That was when I realised that while self-deprecating humour is good in small doses, it may end in self-sabotage when used in large chunks, or all the time.

Just being ironic...
At times, however, you have had enough of laughing at yourself. Now what do you do for a laugh? Well, it's simple. You laugh at others. Yes, you make a play with words, a sarcastic remark, a caustic rejoinder like this: "I'm sorry I hurt you when I said you were stupid. But I thought you already knew."

Sarcasm is defined as 'The use of irony to mock or convey contempt.' As for irony, it is when statements convey the exact opposite of their literal meaning. Basically, it is sarcasm that is defanged and declawed, and can still bring a smile to your face. For example, when you name a huge dog 'Tiny', it is ironic. So by commenting on how pleasant the weather is, when it's actually pouring felines and canines, you can bring some cheer into the otherwise miserable day.

Yes, irony may make you smile, but sarcasm can be downright hilarious. When told by the right people, in the right situations, and with the right tone of voice, sarcastic remarks are super-funny. Groucho Marx once remarked to somebody, "I never forget a face. But for you, I'm prepared to make an exception." Oscar Wilde quipped, "Some people make people happier wherever they go, some whenever they go." When Lady Astor waspishly said to Winston Churchill, "If I was your wife, sir, I would poison your coffee," Winston Churchill immediately replied, "If I was your husband, I would drink it."

Sarcasm is a sign of creative thinking and encourages listeners to think also. When the boy says, "I have a pen, you have a phone number. Think of the possibilities," the girl replies, "I have a sandal, you have a face. Think of the casualties." Yes, it hurts for the moment, but it has to be said. Like when a doctor says, "It's not that diabetes, heart disease and obesity run in your family. It's that no one runs in your family."

Sometimes, sarcasm is the only thing that really hits the nail on the head. 'This is the Mondayest Monday that ever Mondayed' describes a terrible Monday perfectly. 'My life feels like a test I didn't study for' is apt when you can do nothing right. 'If you can smile when things go wrong, then you have someone in mind to blame' sounds terrible, but is true.

However, when someone said, "I feel so miserable without you. It's almost like having you here," it stings. And when you laugh at somebody, you make an enemy of that person. Charles Pierce must have made an enemy for life when he made the remark, "If you ever become a mother, can I have one of your puppies?" Mark Twain must have made many when he commented, "I would like to live in Manchester, England. The transition between Manchester and death would be unnoticeable." And TV entertainer Johnny Carson must have antagonised an entire government department when he said, "Mail your packages early so the post office can lose them in time for Christmas."

Sarcasm at its best
You may repeat Quentin Crisp's quote, "The trouble with children is that they are not returnable," and a person who is a parent would agree with you wryly. But when you repeat this anonymous quote, "Sometimes I need what only you can provide: your absence", or "You have an inferiority complex: and it's fully justified", you better not expect a benign response. For, sarcastic comments can hurt like hell. They can be aggressive or downright mean.

The problem with sarcastic comments is that they have to be said just so, otherwise they lose their effectiveness. Quite often, they don't do well on repetition: you just have to be there. Also, use too much sarcasm and you will come off not as smart and witty, but bitter, frustrated, angry, insecure and unkind. No wonder it is called the lowest form of wit.

And then there are paronomasias, or puns to be simple. Puns are plays on words when there are two or more meanings. As long as none of the meanings are off-colour, in which case they become double-entendres, to pun is to have clean fun. In fact, Alfred Hitchcock even called puns the highest form of literature.
And any of us can make pun of anything, anytime. A sign at a music shop says, "Gone Chopin. Bach in a minuet". One DNA says to another, "Do these genes make me look fat?" When they draw your blood in a testing lab, it is to give you a bloody picture.

Talk about anything, there are puns about it. Ego: When two egotists meet, it's an I for an I. Time: When a clock is hungry, it goes back four seconds. Medicine: A pessimist's blood type is always b-negative. Academics: Without geometry, life is pointless. Democracy: In democracy, your vote counts. In feudalism, your count votes. Even war: War does not determine who's right — only who is left.

And there are some puns that need no reason to exist other than the fact that they are funny: 'Man who makes mistakes on an elevator is wrong on many levels.' 'A bicycle can't stand on its own because it is two-tired.' 'The short fortune teller who escaped from prison was a small medium at large.' 'A small boy swallowed some coins and was taken to the hospital. When asked about his condition a little later, the nurse said, "No change yet."

So, now I hope you can see that there are plenty of ways in which to laugh. Robert Frost was darn right when he said, "If we couldn't laugh, we would all go insane." In a world that looks like it's going insane, the only thing we can do is laugh or cry. Let's choose to laugh, for it beats crying, any day.

Here's one more reason to laugh: A man is talking to God. "God, how long is a million years?" God answers, "To me, it's about a minute." "God, how much is a million dollars?" "To me, it is a penny." "God, may I have a penny?" "Wait a minute..."

The theme for the next photo feature is Piles of Things. Submit your entry (one per person) with your name, a caption, & information about where you have taken the photo, to sundaydh@gmail.com latest by November 14, 2016

File size should at least be 500 KB. The subject line for the mail is 'My Take'

Dating isn't easy. Finding that perfect life partner seems even tougher. Especially when it comes to busy, urban Indian professionals who rarely have the time or the opportunity to meet someone outside their immediate social circle. Poring over classified ads is passé, and so is browsing through thousands of random, unverified profiles on conventional matrimonial websites. Swiping through potential matches on popular dating apps may be an option, but for most successful city-dwelling professionals looking for a meaningful relationship, and at seriously upping their chances of finding a compatible partner, joining a contemporary matchmaking network, a singles-only club, or signing up for a personalised dating service could very well turn out to be their best bet.

The days of the traditional marriage bureaus and their 'dated' ways are long gone. There is no resumé to submit, no pundit to match horoscopes, and certainly no shubh-muhurat to meet that special someone. Here we're talking about modern, professional matchmakers who, besides adopting a fresh take on the subject of matchmaking, take their jobs and their clients very seriously.

"It's tough to get a sense of an individual's personality by just looking at a couple of their photographs or a list of their hobbies. I ensure that I get a face-to-face meeting or a video call with every member before the matchmaking process starts," says Anuradha Vinod Gupta, founder and CEO, Vows For Eternity (VFE), a high-end, personalised matchmaking platform for the Indian elite. "I got married at 34, and I always thought I would meet someone on my own, but soon realised that not only does it get tougher with time, but the process drains you emotionally as well," she adds.

There are also times when delaying marriage can often lead to unrealistic expectations and even have people focusing on the superficial. For instance, a Wall Street banker once refused to meet a girl who, he felt, wasn't "photogenic" enough. Gupta intervened and got them to meet, only to have the girl turn around and refuse, because she didn't like the colour of his socks! Reluctantly, she agreed to a second meeting which, luckily for them, turned into an eight-month romance, followed by marriage.

Calling her establishment a serious destination for marriage, Gupta says, "We act like a bridge that brings life partners together, based on mindsets, values and personalities." More importantly, their social status — as the high profile client list at VFE includes successful professionals, entrepreneurs, industrialists and celebrities, based in India and abroad. While being headquartered in New York, VFE has an established presence in Singapore, as well as the Indian metros.

Unlike arranged marriages, these New Age matchmakers also focus more on connecting people, rather than rushing them straight into matrimony. "We ensure a pressure-free environment where clients can be themselves. They can date for years, get married the following week, or simply leave after a casual drink," says Sunil Hiranandani, founder, Sirf Coffee, one of India's first dating services.

Choosing to keep their approach boutique and personalised, Sirf Coffee only takes on about 500 new members annually. Their offices in Mumbai and Singapore cater to clients from more than 18 countries, while their priority markets remain India, the US, UK, Dubai, Hong Kong & Singapore.

The team personally strives to meet and interview every applicant, and not just bank on how good they look on paper. "Once we've determined an appropriate match, we get in touch with the client to tell them about their prospective date. If their schedule makes meeting for coffee difficult, we arrange for drinks or dinner after work," elaborates Hiranandani. Even if you happen to be in different parts of the world, the relationship managers will go the extra step to co-ordinate your travel itineraries to ensure a hassle-free dating experience.

Sirf Coffee has been privy to several romances that have brewed over 'just' a cup of coffee. Recently, they learnt that the record for the longest second 'date', in Sirf Coffee's history, was clocked at 15 'short' hours, and this happened onboard a flight that took off from JFK and landed at Dubai!

Finding love online
Moving from the world of dating over coffee onto the world of dating online. Indians are taking to looking for love and relationships on the web like never before. With an influx of dating apps in the matchmaking market, and Tinder being one of the most popular, how then, does Aisle, another dating app, claim to be different and stand out amongst its peers?

Able Joseph, founder, Aisle, explains, "Aisle is the wise middle-path between traditional matrimonial websites and casual dating apps. We do not encourage our members to mindlessly try and connect with every user on the app. Instead, they purchase 'Invites' and send them out only to people who they are genuinely interested in meeting, and not to 'everyone' in order to maximise their chances of meeting 'at least someone', as is the trend on other dating apps."

With verified members in over 60 countries, a majority of who are based in Delhi, Mumbai and Bengaluru, Aisle does not provide its users with matches, but gives them the option of applying the filters on the app to search for anyone they feel they might be able to strike a chord with.

iBluebottle, on the other hand, is another matchmaking site, that unlike Aisle, sends out high quality matches to its members every week. No random searching or browsing of profiles is allowed to protect the privacy of the users. Co-founder, Akhilesh Sharma, says, "We do an initial validation of every profile to establish its genuineness. Then we use a personality-matching algorithm to send out compatible matches. If the user likes a match and wants to establish contact, we do a second level validation of the profile and ask them to pay for a subscription."

The vetting team ensures that only "top professionals" and those who fall within a strict income bracket at that, qualify for a membership. Taking a personality test while creating a profile is mandatory. "We also ask for documentary proof as part of the second level validation," reveals Sharma.

Not everyone's modus operandi is the same when it comes to the delicate task of bringing two people together. While private dates and algorithms work for some, at Footloose No More (FLNM) 'face to face' meetings at curated events work best. Perhaps, no one knows this better than the founders of FLNM, Varsha Agnihotri Vadhyar and her brother Abhishek Agnihotri, who found their respective partners at FLNM parties, where marriage is always on the cards.

"We're not a casual dating site. We seriously want to bring people together to explore the route that takes them from being 'Footloose' to 'Footloose No More' in a fun, interactive and safe environment," says Varsha. No member is auto-approved. Every applicant is first interviewed, and then, depending on a host of factors, approved or rejected.

Members meet during casual movie nights or fun Sunday brunches. For the outdoor enthusiasts, FLNM organises treks, photography walks etc.

With around 5,000 clients spread across cities like Mumbai, Pune, Delhi and Bengaluru, most of them fall within the age bracket of 25-27, but Varsha insists that they have no upper age limit, since finding love and togetherness should be for everyone.

This thought finds resonance with Reemma Dalal and Jemma J Antia, founders of the Mumbai-based entity Mix & Mingle, who also believe that the older age bracket should not be left out when it comes to helping people find love. While most of their private, themed events are organised for singles between 25 and 35 years of age, they have cared to include and cater to the age brackets between 35 and 50 years, as well as the '50 and above' group of individuals, these clearly being the age groups that are often overlooked by other matchmaking platforms.

Guests are screened prior to the events and the venue is only revealed post the screening process. Reemma says, "The idea behind our events is for singles to meet and interact with one another, find a partner and expand their social network. These events give people an opportunity to dress up, have fun and let their hair down."

Icebreakers galore
But hosting over 250 events in a year, across different cities, is no mean feat. Perhaps, that's why at Find Life Over Here (Floh), a singles network, active in Bengaluru, Mumbai and Delhi, they claim to see at least one wedding or engagement every week amongst its members.

Siddharth Mangharam, founder and CEO of Floh, says, "We accept less than 10% of the applicants into the pool, and this results in exceptionally high quality profiles on Floh." The vetting process, again, is quite stringent, with multiple levels of screening, which includes a personal interview, besides analysing an applicant's Facebook and LinkedIn profile. "We look for politeness during the interview and across all communication. A person may be exceptionally qualified, but if they are rude, their application is definitely rejected," reveals Mangharam.

Based upon their interests, members can choose from the gamut of curated events, where they are guaranteed to meet like-minded people. There are wine tastings and cookouts, sailing and hiking trips, picnics and photography workshops, dance sessions, debates, quizzes and a wide range of other events to pick from. Floh even has an exclusive app in place, which enables members to request a one-on-one introduction with a person of interest. So, even as they're gearing up to launch in cities like Hyderabad, Pune and Chennai, it is their attention to detail and their 'more-than-willing' attitude to deliver greater value to their customers, that will help entities like Floh shape up their industry.

Similarly, for those looking for a weekend soiree with a fabulous guest list, free flowing champagne and wine selections, paired with some great food and music, they needn't look beyond A World Alike (AWA), which is another exclusive, 'by invitation-only' singles network, active across Bengaluru, Delhi and Mumbai. Equally apt for those who'd rather settle for an afternoon game of paintball, a beer pong tournament, or even an army tank ride, AWA is where they should sign up.

Even though these events are only reserved for a select bunch who are handpicked by the AWA's founding team, it sure has opened up a whole world of possibilities for singles out there, eager to have fun and network, with no underlying agenda.

"Our events are classy, experiential and hosted in some of the best venues across the country," says Himanshu Gupta, founder, AWA. Although he wouldn't call AWA a dating or a matchmaking platform, he does believe that, "Only when you meet somebody in person, you are in a position to gauge the chemistry and discover their personality traits, rather than swiping online endlessly."

Memberships to most of these matchmaking and networking platforms range from Rs 5,000 to 7,500 for a three-month package, and rise to about Rs 15,000 to 33,000 annually. Curated events are sometimes charged extra. Then there are the likes of Vows For Eternity's premium matrimonial search packages, which range from 1.5 to 3 lakh. But more than the membership fees, the entry to these exclusive clubs isn't easy, as most of them have a no-nonsense approach when it comes to taking on a new member. Rules and eligibility criteria are clearly, and candidly, spelt out online.

According to Himanshu, the basic criteria that probably holds true for gaining entry into any one of these reputed networks is that, one has to be an interesting personality. "Well-spoken, well-educated and well-travelled. And of course, open to meeting new people." A deal-breaker would be if, "one is not articulate enough, or isn't gainfully employed." But for those who make the cut, these platforms sure are a promising way to meet a prospective partner, sooner or later. Now, that's a promise most of these matchmaking entities would be happy to keep, just as the tagline of iBluebottle optimistically states — Kabhi toh milogae!

It will come as a surprise to modern readers that the English word 'Drawing Room' is actually a shortening of 'Withdrawing Room'.

This used to be the room, in the western world, where the family and guests would withdraw to, after dinner, the primary get-together of the day. The (with)drawing room was the place where the family exchanged idle chit-chat, sang songs, maybe played music, or just relaxed before going to bed. In India, in the past century, there was no real equivalent traditionally — the well-off mimicked the British drawing room schedule, the rest went to sleep early. The mindset of the person entering the drawing room was of someone disconnecting from the world — ready to go to sleep.

All of this should go to show how much television has changed our world. Starting from the 1950s in the US, and finally taking root in the 80s in India, television has turned the drawing room into our closest connect with the world at large. Radio had its day for a few decades, but it never had the compulsive pull of the television screen. The medium of television has brought people together, made them fight or compromise, made them create their own new groups. Most importantly, television has been the quickest way for a new idea or event to propagate across the world.

India has its own history of television. Doordarshan had been around since the 60s, but mass adoption of TV was triggered around the 1982 Asian Games in Delhi. The government, in an effort to encourage the new technology of colour television, introduced a permit for the production and import of these sets. Over one lakh TVs were imported in that one year. However, television was a single channel, with transmission starting only in the evenings and ending in the night. Every child knew the Doordarshan opening tune by heart.

Television was still not a reason for people to be glued to their seats in living rooms. The rare event, however, could draw them in. As a child of the 80s, the first two major television events I remember are India's win of the cricket World Cup, and Indira Gandhi's funeral. One was a cause for celebration, while the other one was a sad event. A few years earlier, when the Emergency had been declared, with all the accompanying fallout, the newspapers and radio had been the only means of news dissemination, and neither of these had the impact of television. But the World Cup victory, now... that moment when Kapil Dev ran, ran and ran to take that impossible catch. We all saw it. We Indians were all there, together. The next year, when the funeral pyre was burning on our screens, we all worried, together. We were now bound by a common thread.

We've gotta have it

Through the 80s, and even the beginning of the 90s, television became a must-have for Indians. A colour TV became something aspirational. Never mind that Doordarshan was all we saw. Villagers saw the same programmes that big-city folks did. Certain television programmes became regular entries in people's appointment diaries. The Wednesday evening Chitrahaar, the Sunday morning Ramayan and Mahabharat series, were the talk of the town. A new TV ad would be endlessly talked over. The patriotic and inspirational fillers produced by the government — Mile Sur Mera Tumhara, Ek Aur Anek Chidiya, even the family planning messages — were part of the common culture. Buniyaad and Hum Log, the prototypical soap operas, were discussed during kitty parties.

But this unified age of Doordarshan was short-lived. By the mid-90s, cable TV came in and revolutionised the TV-watching experience. Now, we could watch something different from what our neighbours were watching. There were a bare dozen channels in the 90s, fed to your home with a cable pulled over rooftops by your neighbourhood cablewala. The cablewala himself would run a video channel where he played movies on a schedule. A few years later, cable TV channels numbered in the hundreds in India. The drawing room is now a battleground for the remote control. The children want cartoons. The father wants cricket, or the news. The women want Balika Vadhu. Timetables are drawn out and argued over. Children's channels are disconnected during exam times.

The side effect of multiple channels is that now it's completely possible for you to be ignorant of things that a different demographic is tuned into. Children will know nothing of state funerals. Movie addicts may not even know a test match series is ongoing. It's a side effect of the development of the medium.

On the other end of that equation, it is now possible to target a given serial or TV event at a specific segment of the population. It is fine, for example, for the music channels to play only contemporary Hindi film music, because only those people interested in it (and there are enough) will tune into the channel. Classical music, or English music lovers, can find their own channels. It is fine for SAB TV to broadcast only light comedy serials, or for the dozen-plus news channels to focus only on news from the Indian perspective, or for a chef to start an entire channel devoted to food and cooking. The days of Doordarshan, of half-hour slots for each topic in a single channel, are gone.

In the west, cable TV has wrought a golden age of sorts for TV serials. The quality of content being produced over the last decade has been nothing short of amazing. The best of talent is now flocking to television, leading to serials and mini-series that are as good as any big-budget movie, and generally much deeper and plot-driven.

In tune with the times

Consumers of cable television are spoilt for choice with all this content. One actually has to keep track of what to watch and when, and make sure to set up the schedule accordingly.

Some say it's a good thing. In the days before television and radio, almost all entertainment was what was called 'lean-forward', or active. To enjoy it, you had to participate, 'leaning forward' towards it. If you wanted music, you sang or played, or took part in an impromptu concert. If you were reading, it was work to actually understand the text and follow along. Painting, poetry, walks or lectures, all made you work to enjoy them. But television is what's called 'lean-back' or passive entertainment. You can enjoy it with a minimum of effort on your part — just be a so-called couch potato.

But cable TV and the wide variety of available content force you to be more discerning and active, to make the effort to keep up with everything that's going on.
So far, all of this discussion has assumed 'television' to be a monolithic entity that includes both the instrument itself and the massive infrastructure associated with getting content to it. As we have been seeing for the past decade, this is increasingly not the case.

It started with video games that used only the television instrument as a screen. Then we had VCRs and DVD players that helped you choose exactly what content you wanted to watch, or record something for viewing later. All these make television more 'lean-forward'. As games and game consoles became more advanced, games became something the entire family could do together. You could even connect with the larger gameplaying community.

But these uses of the television were small-scale compared to the big
leap that has taken place in the last decade: the entry of the internet into the home.

The television industry was smart enough to see that the internet was taking over people's lives, and the TV would drop out of consumption unless it adapted. And so we had the convergence of the computer screen and the TV, what's called the Smart TV. This was when the television, instead of being a dumb transmitter of a signal fed to it, has a computer within it, that lets it connect to the internet, play youtube videos, run games, video conferencing, and any number of similar applications.

In countries where the internet bandwidth is good enough, applications such as Netflix, which stream entire movies onto the TV, are very popular. Some of the TV content now being produced is created purely to be distributed over the internet, bypassing the traditional broadcasting media completely. But these serials are still watched by connecting the TV into the internet connection.

Television, which was once in danger of being swallowed by all the new technologies that are coming up, has successfully assimilated all of them and remained the centre of the drawing room. The core idea of having a large screen at your beck and call, to show you what you want to see, and to entertain you when you are worn out from the world, remains a powerful one.

We are heading back towards the 'lean-forward' age, where active participation in leisure activities is the norm. But where we were aloof and disconnected from the world once, we are now a part of a worldwide family. For that, we have television to thank.

If someone asks me who my best friend is, I'd have no problem in instantly replying, "My TV, of course!" Many people may scoff at my answer. "TV is the idiot box," some say with contempt. "It is the opiate of the masses," others sniff disdainfully. Well, let me defend my answer.

The magic box entered my life in 1985. We hit it off instantly. What was not to like? Before television, life was blah, frankly speaking. Horrors, we had to use our own imagination to amuse ourselves. Holidays were the pits. We would actually follow ant lines and watch rain. When we got together with friends or cousins, we'd play board or outdoor games. Sometimes we were creative enough to put up plays of our own. Some of us even learned some skills. God knows what else I might have learned, but luckily, TV stepped in and saved me from using all my talents.

So how has TV changed our lives, you ask? For one, it has taken us to the sports arena, where we can watch all kinds of sports and games without leaving the comfort of our couches. Thus it saves us the trouble of playing games and sports ourselves. Just think of the hard work and sweat... yeesh! Now all we have to do is wash our hands — to take off the salt and masala from the snacks we eat while watching. Now, isn't that more civilised?

Television has taken us places. See, I can travel to any place in the world on TV, while in reality, a three-day trip to just one destination would not only swallow my entire life-savings, but also force me to put half my possessions on Quikr. I can even enhance my viewing experience by eating the appropriate snack — dates for deserts, pastries for European countries, noodles for Asian programmes and chips for... well, chips go with any place.

They say a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. We become highly dangerous when we watch a lot of TV. Thanks to it, we have half-baked knowledge and can discuss any subject for about 10 seconds, which is five seconds more than the prevalent attention span, so we can come off looking smart. Isn't that what we want?

And, TV has brought people together. Yes, I'm serious. In the old days, the family gathered around the dinner table; today it gathers around the television. As for the nation itself, if you had been around when Ramayan and Mahabharat hit the small screen, you'd have seen the entire India practically grind to a halt on Sundays at 11 am. Teleserials like Kyun khi saas bhi kabhi bahu thi further cemented the bond, and reality shows like Bigg Boss have clinched it. Give us an emotional tear-jerker, roller-coaster, clichéd storyline and we'll all watch it, live it and discuss it, far more than the other so-called important issues like women's safety, the future of our children, etc. Hey, we know what's important, okay?

Television has also provided us with perfect companionship: it requires nothing but our brains and our time, it doesn't talk back, and is always there for us. Can you name one person who will do that for us?

TV is the perfect babysitter for infants under one and adults over 40. (Don't try this with 2- to 40-year-olds. To them, TV is so yesterday — they are hooked on the cell phone and internet.) It single-handedly sustains the snack and fast food industry. And it is the perfect time sink that allows you to live in 12-minute slots.

Now, I really must go. My TV is calling me. And I know you want to go too, for the same reasons. Don't you?

The theme for the next photo feature is 'DOOM & GLOOM'. Submit your entry
(one per person) with your name, a caption, & information about where you have taken the photo, to sundaydh@gmail.com latest by November 28, 2016.

File size should at least be 500 KB. The subject line for the mail is 'My Take'

As the rains abate and cool breezes begin to blow, people all over the country gear up for celebrations.

In recent years, literary festivals have joined this exuberant bandwagon, with almost 100 such galas planned in India this year. Litfests, as they are fondly termed, add glamour and crowd-pulling appeal to reading and writing, which are essentially quiet and solitary activities. Publishers, publicists and 'Famous Authors' of every feather flock to literature festivals all over the country.

With new literary festivals sprouting up every year to add to the already rich variety, lifestyle coaches, gawkers, culture vultures, fast food vendors, aspiring writers, fitness gurus, film personalities, film stars of every sparkle level, and everyone who is anything else, all join the festivities. With so much fanfare and drumrolls, are these litfests becoming commercial circuses? Or, do they really serve the cause of literature by focusing on good books, offering a platform to a variety of voices and artistic perspectives, and drawing in new readers to books they would otherwise never have known?

Order in place

First, let's take a look at the not-so-literary but equally vital practical part of litfests. Organising any literary festival is a huge exercise in management. The Jaipur Literature Festival, that mother of all Indian litfests, draws stupendous crowds that can fill up an entire town. Other litfests are also catching up. This is enough to prompt borderline introverts like me to hide inside the nearest cupboard at the very thought. Such litfests are organisational wonders, with promoters juggling finances, public relations, logistics and heaven alone knows what else. Star guests have to be invited and hosted, air tickets and tour itineraries have to be synchronised, sponsors have to be tapped, venues have to be booked, security has to be in place, volunteers have to be organised and trained, and I faint to think of what else organisers have to go through to present these grand events to the world.

What happens in Jaipur on a mammoth scale is repeated in varying degrees in all the other litfests. Hotels are fully booked months in advance, and a galaxy of literary greats descend from all over the globe. Many star-studded sessions are organised simultaneously, and the audience is spoilt for choice. Food stalls, book stalls, souvenir stalls, contests, workshops and many other activities are also presented to keep the crowds entertained and well-fed as they pursue the literary muses.

Litfests are definitely big business. The many visitors also look for accommodation and visit places of interest, giving a shot in the arm to tourism and the local economy. Hotels, restaurants, tour operators and other business establishments profit from this influx of migratory literati. Many visitors consider 'famous authors' themselves as major tourist attractions, jostling to click selfies and grab their autographs. No wonder many literary festivals are co-sponsored by government tourism departments and major corporates.

Book sales are only a small part of the commercial extravaganza. From what I've seen, malls and junk food stalls steal a march over books. Fine dining in fancy restaurants, grand cars and designer clothes may cost the earth. People still feel their money is well spent on such luxuries for making a lifestyle statement. Books are cheaper than pizzas and burgers which we gobble to attain blissful obesity. But books are considered a waste of time and money by many, who have never read anything but textbooks or advertisements in their lives.

Meanwhile, brick and mortar bookstores are downing shutters. Authors like me whom nobody has heard of, are delighted to get occasional four-figure cheques for what some bright comedian has termed 'royalties'. If more people bought, read, and learnt to love books, they would realise that books are not only cheaper than junk food, they are healthier for our brains and bodies too. The hoopla of litfests will be well worth it if it draws such doubting Thimmaiahs to reading books.

Publisher Dipankar Mukherjee of Readomania perfectly sums up the symbiotic connection between literature and commerce. "There is a distinction between a literary platform and a literary jamboree. A platform that promotes literary voices, celebrates good writing and showcases different perspectives is a cultural and societal need, but a jamboree to make noise, earn money and create a saleable property is a commercial need. Both must co-exist." Which, in my 'author whom nobody has heard of' speak, also means that well-written books for the edification and entertainment of humanity cannot be produced with empty coffers.

Accepting an invitation to the recently held Pune International Literary Festival (PILF), I experienced this happy combination of a literary platform in a lively carnival atmosphere. While three literary sessions were conducted simultaneously in various halls, street plays, book readings and signings by authors, and just plain fun happened outdoors. There was a colourful exhibition on Enid Blyton, and book stalls, souvenir stalls and food stalls to keep everyone busy between sessions.

Bestselling author of mystery novels and PILF founder Manjiri Prabhu seemed all hands, eyes and ears as she co-ordinated the three-day event, while playing gracious hostess to the many literary guests. I observed author Shinie Antony speaking at sessions and interacting with fans. All the while she was mentally planning for her own responsibilities as the lady behind the Bangalore Literary Festival. As I prepared to speak at my own session and braced to don the mantle of moderator for a panel discussion, I realised that planning and smoothly executing such massive events was a challenge requiring much blood, sweat and tears to flow behind the scenes.

Suit yourself!

PILF 2016 showcased multiple genres of books. Mysteries, thrillers, crime fiction, yoga, comics, mythology-based fiction, romances, self-help books, food writers, health, beauty and nutrition, all had a space here. There were also fascinating movements across various art forms. A ballet was performed based upon Pervin Saket's novel about a modern-day Urmila, the neglected wife. The ballet incorporated several classical dance forms such as kathak, odissi and bharatnatyam. There was even the screening of a film on Lahore, a travel documentary about filmmaker Rahul Chandawarkar's visit to Pakistan to perform a play. And of course, there were the lively street play performances. The exuberant fairground atmosphere helped in the free flow of ideas as people moved from one session to another, soaking in whatever suited them.

From Pune, I travelled to Bhubaneswar, where I was invited to speak at two sessions of the Utkal Literature Festival (ULF). I saw how each lit fest has its unique character and flavour, offering fresh perspectives and insights. ULF 2016 was a more formal event conducted inside a spacious auditorium. While there were poetry readings in the lawns and a bookstall, there were no food courts or other fairground trappings.

Acknowledging that intellectual activities cannot be digested on empty stomachs, visitors were generously offered lunch by the hosts. The focus was upon novels, short stories and poetry, giving equal importance to both English and Odiya writing. I was pleasantly surprised to find that I could understand the gist of what was being read and discussed in Odiya. This offered another wonderful perspective on the great work happening in our neglected languages. There were lively panel discussions on relevant topics such as the crisis in translation in Odiya literature, the art and craft of fiction writing, independent publishing, book promotions, blogging, and the role of literary festivals.

Literary festivals are coming up to cater to every angle of the complex world of literature. Bookaroo, the children's lit fest, is going strong with editions all over the country. As a speaker in Bookaroo in Delhi a few years ago, I saw how the playful open-air atmosphere drew excited kids to books. Another theme-based festival, Comic Con, focuses on comic books and graphic novels. Poetry festivals attract many enthusiasts.

Do we need more litfests? Yes, says author and publisher Zafar Anjum, who launched the Seemanchal International Literary Festival recently. Set in Kishanganj, in the picturesque foothills of the eastern Himalayas, this lit fest drew attention to a beautiful but neglected region of India. Anjum's literary venture Kitaab focuses on building a platform for Asian writing in English. In keeping with this spirit, speakers came from countries such as the US, UK, Singapore and elsewhere. Among other attractions, the India release of noted Singapore author Isa Kamari's latest book, Tweet, also happened here.

As 'an author whom nobody has heard of', I am all for litfests. Through them, an eccentric reader or two may have come to know of my books. Perhaps someone may actually buy, read, enjoy my books, and tell others. We live on hope. I have a soft corner for literary fiction, with its stress on the inner life and struggles of fictional characters, and style and artistic expression.

It was enlightening to learn of new work in other areas. I reconnected with old writer friends, and met some interesting new ones. I'm still 'an author whom nobody has heard of', and my books are languishing on Flipkart. But thanks to generous sponsors and hosts, I briefly emerged from under my bed, travelled to new places in comfort, and had literary adventures.

I remember my first ever lit fest experience with great fondness. It was an exciting start: you know how any event starts for women — we went shopping. This was because when we checked our wardrobes, we did not have a thing to wear.

So, I was there, dressed in my new salwaar kameez, all set to make my debut. Immediately, on arrival, I noticed, that there were three kinds of people:

Writers: All of them seemed to know each other. They met, hugged, air-kissed and shared about their recent literary accomplishments.

Organisers: They looked busy and overworked. They talked nicely to the writers and sized the rest of us up, with confused, supercilious looks.

Media people: They wore media-looking clothes — crumpled and classy, carried large totes, and knew who was who.

Now, I searched for the category I could relate to: wannabe writers, but there seemed to be none. I must have been standing out like sore thumb, and really needed to belong to some group or the other.

I tried entering the writers' group, particularly around lunch time. I must have been snooping for a while where lunch was being served whereupon the next speaker, a celebrity Guruji, breezed out with his entourage, and headed towards the stage, for his session. He mistook me to be reverential follower and blessed me with a raised, open palm. I immediately, replaced my hungry, wannabe looks with those denoting piety and reverence, and folded my palms. I noticed my friend, also caught unawares, folding her palms over her Bisleri bottle, her cheeks swollen with water she was too pious to gulp down. In the scramble, her dupatta fell. Guruji blessed her twice.

I could never make it to that lunch room, despite my writer friend assuring me that we belonged there. So, after the guards escorted us out, we headed towards the street-food kiosks. By this time, I was worried that I had not yet gotten the opportunity to showcase my literary prowess.

"One chhola bhatura, madam?"
I corrected him, with a patient, elegant admonition:
"You should say, one plate chhola bhatura," I smiled my gracious, literary smile.
He ignored me, doling out the greasy stuff on plates made with dried leaves. Shobha De, by now, was, I am sure, eating off gold-rimmed china in the authors' lounge.

The sun was beating down, and the canopies were occupied. People were crawling under trees, shrubs, bellies of large people, hogging every spot of shade. Beads of sweat were trickling down my torso, making me fidget, which I disguised, skilfully, as applause.

One more trip to the food stalls, with some more literary inputs — "A cup of tea with some cream please. You know, 'cream' really means 'milk'..."

And I was now, thirsty and tired, and not feeling literary any more.
We continued to look for a spot of shade. My friend was now looking like a terrorist with her white dupatta wrapped round her head and face, exposing just her eyes behind sinister-looking sun-shades. It was really hot. We spotted a low, gnarly tree. My writer friend, fatigued with the heat, walked right into a stumpy branch, almost getting impaled. As she screamed, my flora-educated terrorist, perhaps hazy with the heat, exclaimed, inappropriately, "I think it's a cherry tree."

We were in no mood for empathy, also because we were now disoriented with dehydration. Luckily the scream was masked as the crowd roared: Farhan Akhtar was on stage. We did not bother to check if my writer friend was alive under the cherry tree. We rushed to the stage, aunties jostling the volunteer students out of our way.

Sweat streaming down my face, and smelling like what Milkha Singh would have after a day's worth of running, I was yelling, "Farhan, Farhan."

Be it Mount Olympus for the ancient Greeks or Mount Meru for the Hindus, since antiquity mountains have been deemed sacred due to their proximity to the heavens. From Africa to the Far East, indigenous people have considered mountains as abodes of gods and spirits, worthy of respect. However, for the Westerners, they have always been objects of conquest.

At 19,340 ft, Kilimanjaro towers above the Serengeti plains of Tanzania, visible for hundreds of miles all around. Natives describe it as a place where spirits seek everlasting rest. The Masai tribes call the mountain Ngaje Ngai (or the 'House of God'); early colonisers called it the Crown of Africa; while to mountaineers, it was the greatest panoramic view in the world. The local Chagga tribe believe the peak was crowned with silver that would melt in the hand, guarded by spirits who would inflict pain and chills on anyone who ventured too high. The tallest peak is called Uhuru, Swahili for 'freedom'.

One of Australia's most recognisable natural landmarks, Uluru or Ayer's Rock is a reddish sandstone formation in the Northern Territory. The local Anangu do not climb Uluru because of its great spiritual significance, and request visitors not to climb the rock for their own safety. Though it just stands 348 m tall, it has claimed 35 lives. To the Anangu, Uluru is a spiritual place where their tjukurpa (creation stories) converge, which govern their ceremonies, art, and rules for living. The rock straddles a sacred Dreamtime trail that was a traditional route of their ancestral Mala men. Despite warning signs, some visitors still climb Uluru. A chain was added in 1964, and extended in 1976, to make the hour-long climb easier, but it is still a steep hike to the top.

In Japan, the solitary snow-clad Mount Fuji has inspired artists and poets alike. Its first representation in Japanese art goes back to the 11th century, and over the years, it has become an internationally recognised icon of Japan. Climbing the 3,776-metre-high peak might be fashionable today, but in the past the holy mountain represented an arduous spiritual pilgrimage for the Japanese. Traditionally footed in straw sandals and white robes, today, scaling the peak in summer is like the rush hour in Tokyo and not as Zen as it used to be. Over 3,00,000 people make the climb each year, and the numbers are only growing ever since it received the UNESCO World Heritage tag in 2013.

Sacred space

When Eleanor Hawkins, Lindsey and Danielle Petersen, and Dylan Snel climbed Mount Kinabalu and took a nude selfie, little did they know that they would be accused of causing an earthquake of 5.9 magnitude. Most Malaysians consider the mountain sacred. And Sabah's Kadazan Dusun tribe believe the mountain houses the spirits of their dead ancestors. They often act as guides, instructing climbers to treat the mountain with respect. The name 'Kinabalu' is derived from Aki Nabalu or 'resting place of the dead'. Each December, the tribe conducts the monolob ritual to appease the spirits and allow climbers to visit the mountain safely. Besides several offerings, a priestess sacrifices seven white chickens, which are cooked and given to the ceremony participants. In the past, this ceremony was conducted before every ascent, and climbers used the cooked meat as rations for their sacred journey.

So what is it that makes people put themselves at such great risks to climb mountains? When English mountaineer George Mallory, who took part in the first three British expeditions to Mount Everest in the early 1920s, was asked, "Why did you want to climb Mount Everest?" Mallory famously replied, "Because it's there." His immortal words are often described as 'the three most famous words in mountaineering.' During the 1924 expedition, Mallory and his climbing partner Andrew Irvine disappeared on the North-East ridge, just 245 m from the summit. Their fate was unknown for 75 years, until his body was discovered on May 1, 1999 by an expedition that had set out to search for the climbers' remains.

George Mallory's son, John Mallory, three years old when his father died, said, "To me, the only way you achieve a summit is to come back alive. The job is only half done if you don't get down again." Sir Edmund Hillary echoes the sentiment: "If you climb a mountain for the first time and die on the descent, is it really a complete first ascent of the mountain? I am rather inclined to think personally that maybe it is quite important, the getting down, and the complete climb of a mountain is reaching the summit and getting safely to the bottom again." As the saying goes, 'What goes up, must come down.'

The history of mountaineering began in 1492 when Antoine de Ville, lord of Domjulien and Beaupré, became the first to scale Mont Aiguille in France. Aided by a small team, ropes and ladders, it is believed to be the first recorded climb of any technical difficulty. In 1573, Francesco De Marchi and Francesco Di Domenico ascended Corno Grande, the highest peak in the Apennine range. It was the era of Enlightenment, and the spirit of curiosity to discover the natural world led to many mountains being climbed for the first time.

Richard Pococke and William Windham scaled Chamonix in 1741. In 1760, Swiss scientist Horace-Bénédict de Saussure offered a reward for the first person to ascend the French peak Mont Blanc, a prize that was claimed in 1786. By the early 19th century, many alpine peaks were conquered; Grossglockner in 1800, Ortler in 1804, Jungfrau in 1811, Finsteraarhorn in 1812, and Breithorn in 1813.

In the UK, mountaineering as a sport took root with the ascent of Wetterhorn (1854) by Sir Alfred Wills, which ushered the golden age of alpinism. The same year (1857) as India grappled with the First War of Independence, the Alpine Club — the world's first mountaineering club — was founded.

As a sport

One of the landmark events was the trailblazing ascent of Matterhorn in 1865. English illustrator Edward Whymper led the climbing party; unfortunately, four climbers fell to their deaths. This ascent is believed to mark the end of the golden age of mountaineering. By this time, the sport had reached its modern form, with fixed guidelines, equipment and professional guides. Climbers started exploring other ranges like the Pyrenees and the Caucasus. D W Freshfield became the first man to conquer Mount Kazbek, and most of the Caucasian peaks were successfully conquered by the late 1880s.

Mountaineering in the Americas became popular in the 1800s. In North America, the 14,410-feet-high Pikes Peak in the Colorado Rockies was first climbed by Edwin James in 1820. Fremont Peak (13,745 ft) in Wyoming, erroneously believed to be the tallest mountain in the Rockies, was scaled in 1842 by John C Frémont. Pico de Orizaba (18,491 ft), the highest peak in Mexico and third tallest in North America, was first summited by a US military team in 1848. But it was not until 1913 that Mount Mckinley (20,237 ft), the tallest peak in North America, was successfully scaled. Mount Logan (19,551 ft), Canada's tallest peak, was first climbed in 1925 in a two-month-long expedition.

The exploration of the Andes in South America began in 1879-1880, when Whymper climbed Chimborazo (20,564 ft) and explored the mountains of Ecuador. In 1883, Paul Güssfeldt ascended the 17,270-feet-high volcano Maipo and attempted to climb the tallest mountain in the Americas, Aconcagua (22,837 ft), but was unsuccessful. Aconcagua was finally summited in 1897 by Matthias Zurbriggen during an expedition led by Edward Fitzgerald. By the turn of the century, mountaineering went truly global as Mount Kilimanjaro was climbed in 1889 by Ludwig Purtscheller and Hans Meyer, and Mount Kenya in 1899 by Halford Mackinder. The final frontier in climbing was the youngest mountain range in the world, the Himalayas.

The Himalayas

Initially surveyed by the British for military and strategic reasons, Sir William Martin Conway explored the 23,000-feet-high ranges of the Karakoram in 1892. In 1895, Albert F Mummery died while attempting Nanga Parbat, while in 1899, DW Freshfield went to Sikkim. A number of Gurkha sepoys were trained as expert mountaineers by Charles Granville Bruce, which led to further explorations.

English mountaineer Oscar Eckenstein was a pioneer of modern climbing techniques and mountaineering equipment. He introduced shorter ice-axes that could be used one-handedly, designed modern crampons and improved the nail patterns of climbing boots. In 1902, the Eckenstein-Crowley Expedition, with author and occultist Aleister Crowley, was the first to attempt to scale Chogo Ri (or K2). They reached 22,000 ft before turning back due to weather and other accidents. Undaunted, in 1905, Crowley led the first expedition to Kangchenjunga, the third-highest mountain in the world. Four members of the party were killed in an avalanche and they failed to reach the summit.

By the 1950s, all the eight-thousanders but two had been conquered, starting with Annapurna, in 1950, by Maurice Herzog and Louis Lachenal. The last great peak was the highest of them all — Mount Everest. After several attempts by the British, the summit was finally reached on May 29, 1953 by Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay from the south side in Nepal. A few months later, Hermann Buhl made the first ascent of Nanga Parbat (8,125 m or 26, 657 ft) in a siege-style expedition, walking the last 1,300 m (4,265 ft) alone under the influence of drugs — coca tea, Padutin and Pervitin, a methamphetamine-based stimulant used by soldiers during World War II. Mount K2 (8,611 m or 28,251 ft), the second-highest peak in the world, was first scaled in 1954 by Lino Lacedelli and Achille Compagnoni. In 1964, the final eight-thousander to be climbed was Shishapangma (8,013 m or 26,289 ft), the lowest of all the 8,000 m peaks.

Sought after

From the ascent of the Pandavas to the heavens to sadhus and mystics, many have thronged the Himalayas for answers. But mountaineering in India developed after Independence, under the first prime minister of India, Jawaharlal Nehru. In 1950, an ascent of Bandarpoonch in Garhwal was attempted, then Trishul in 1951 — the first time an Indian team had successfully scaled a 7,000 m peak. A year after the ascent of Everest, the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute (HMI) was established (in 1954) in Darjeeling, and the very next year, Indian teams climbed Kamet. In 1958, Cho Oyu, on the Tibet-Nepal border, became the first 8000 m peak that was climbed by Indians, followed by Nanda Kot and Chaukhamba in 1959.

By the 1960s, climbing as a sport took root as mountaineering institutes were established in 1960 and 1961 at Sikkim and Manali. Despite close attempts of the Annapurna range and Mount Everest between 1960 and 1962, the first Indian ascent of the Everest took place in 1965, when nine mountaineers conquered the mighty peak, a record held for 17 years. The Indian Mountaineering Foundation (IMF) was set up in 1961, while the Nehru Institute of Mountaineering was established in Uttarkashi in 1965.

Mount Kailash in Tibet, widely regarded as Shiva's sacred abode, has also been a holy grail for climbers. In 1926, after studying the 6,000-feet-high north face, Hugh Ruttledge believed it was "utterly unclimbable" and considered an ascent of the northeast ridge, but ran out of time. In 1936, when Herbert Tichy was attempting to climb Gurla Mandhata, he asked one of the Garpons of Ngari whether Kailash was climbable. The Garpon replied, "Only a man entirely free of sin could climb Kailash. And he wouldn't have to actually scale the sheer walls of ice to do it — he'd just turn himself into a bird and fly to the summit."

Legendary mountaineer Reinhold Messner was given the opportunity by the Chinese government to climb it in the mid-1980s, but he declined. In 2001, the Chinese gave permission to a Spanish team to climb the peak, but international disapproval led the Chinese to ban all attempts to climb the sacred mountain. Messner made his disenchantment public — "If we conquer this mountain, then we conquer something in people's souls... I would suggest they go and climb something a little harder. Kailash is not so high and not so hard."
In Nepal, the 22,943-feet-tall Machapuchare or Fish Tail Mountain, named after its distinctive peak, is sacred to the Hindus, who believe it is Lord Shiva's abode. Wilfrid Noyce, a member of the first successful Mt Everest expedition in 1953, came the closest anyone has come to the summit on his 1957 expedition.

The King of Nepal asked Noyce not to set foot on the summit out of respect for Hindu religious customs. Noyce and his climbing partner, ADM Cox, turned back 150 ft short of the summit. This expedition produced the only climbing record of this mountain, a rare book titled Climbing The Fish's Tail. Many climbers have chronicled their expeditions, and no one can be left unmoved by the challenges and highs and lows of mountaineering. Several books like North Face, Touching the Void, Into Thin Air and Vertical Limit have been immortalised into films. It spawned a climbing craze and a competitive quest for records (fastest, youngest, oldest, you name it), most apparent in Nepal, often raising ecological concerns, issues of over-commercialisation and the plight of sherpas.

Purists describe Everest as the highest garbage dump in the world! Some countries like Bhutan have taken a leaf out of Nepal's experience. Though ranked the 40th highest mountain in the world and measuring 24,981 ft, Bhutan's Gangkhar Puensum counts as the world's highest unclimbed mountain. Often described as 'awful but fascinating', the mountain eluded several mountaineering teams for over a decade. Out of respect for local spiritual beliefs, the unconquered Ganghkar Puensum was closed to climbers in 1994, along with all other peaks in Bhutan higher than 6,000 m (19,800 ft).

Strong beliefs

The world's third-highest mountain, Kangchenjunga (28,208 ft), located on the Indo-Nepal border in Sikkim and smaller only to Mount Everest and K2, has been regarded as one of the greatest challenges in mountaineering. It was first climbed in 1953 by Charles Evans from the Nepal side, until a ban on foreigners was imposed in 1955. Only three teams have ever reached its summit by ascending its perilous north-east face. However, that route has been closed due to pressure by local Buddhists, who are incensed by the disregard of 'godless' foreigners. The Sikkimese regard it as a deity as well as an abode of gods; and the legendary yeti or Abominable Snowman, Nee-gued in Sikkim, is believed to roam its slopes.

In April 2016, an Austrian team was given permission to attempt the near-vertical trek in exchange for $20,000. The team, led by climber Willie Bauer, tried to pacify local Buddhists by agreeing to turn back 10 m short of the top. But the furore it caused led the state government to ban expeditions to Kangchenjunga and seven others sacred peaks, just as 18 unclimbed mountains elsewhere in India have been opened for the first time. Several Himalayan peaks in the 6,000-7,000 m range are unscaled because they escaped the attention of mountaineers, who focused on the 8,000 m (26,400 ft) club.

As the tussle between rationalism and age-old beliefs continues, more and more mountains that were once off limits are now reachable, including the 104 peaks that were recently opened in Nepal. After all, cash-strapped countries like Nepal depend a lot on the mountain economy. Perhaps it's only a matter of time before those last unclimbed peaks are scaled.

Landmarks

1492: Antoine de Ville, Lord of Domjulien and Beaupré, scaled Mont Aiguille in France.
1786: Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in the Alps, was successfully scaled.
1854: In the UK, mountaineering as a sport took root with the ascent of the Wetterhorn in 1854 by Sir Alfred Wills, which ushered the Golden Age of Alpinism.
1857: Alpine Club, the world's first mountaineering club, was founded.
1892: The Himalayan Exploration began as Conway of Allington explored Karakoram Range.
1953: Explorers Tenzing Norgay and Edmund Hillary reached the summit of Mount Everest for the first time.
1954: Himalayan Mountaineering Institute (HMI) was established in Darjeeling.
1958: Mho Oyu, on the Tibet-Nepal border, became the first 8000-metre peak to be climbed by Indians.
1978: Mount K2 (8,611 m), the second-highest peak in the world, was first scaled by Lino Lacedelli and Achille Compagnoni.

The theme for the next photo feature is tools of the trade. Submit your entry
(one per person) with your name, a caption, & information about where you have taken the photo, to sundaydh@gmail.com latest by December 12, 2016.

File size should at least be 500 KB. The subject line for the mail is 'My Take'

Sheela was a 12-year-old girl with autism whose academic performances and social skills were poor. For over a year and a half she met with movement therapist Tripura Kashyap thrice a week for 45-minute sessions.

These sessions included warm up routines and body awareness games, eye contact activities, and the use of dandiya sticks for her to express her feelings through rhythm and partnership games. After barely a month, Sheela began to respond instantly to contrasts and quick changes in movement exercises.

Several weeks later, she began to move through all the movement activities with the ease and confidence of a normal 13-year-old. Towards the end of six months, she needed less physical help in performing a variety of movement tasks, and progressed to responding appropriately to verbal prompts.

Though dance had been a part of healing rituals in many prehistorical cultures, it was only in the 1940s that it emerged as a distinct therapeutic modality in the US, through the work of Marian Chace, says Tripura Kashyap, the pioneer of Creative Movement Therapy in India.

This amazing contemporary dancer shifted gears to Creative Movement Therapy (CMT) in 1990, inspired by her wheelchair-bound brother and the visually impaired students at Kalakshetra, Chennai.

The challenges were many: economics (Kashyap's work initially was voluntary), lack of space, our Indian penchant for 'performances', and surprisingly, scepticism from her compatriots in the dance world. Yet, many organisations, educators and psychotherapists were "excited, welcoming and accepting of this new form," she says. Since then, Kashyap has seen "much innovation in India because of the different kinds of population with whom dance movement therapists work, as well as the variety of dance forms in our country."

To the uninitiated, Creative Movement Therapy is a form of body psychotherapy in which clients use their movement as the language to express repressed feelings of trauma, self-identity, or buried memories that they are unable to articulate verbally. "In this context, the body becomes a powerful tool for them to articulate what they are going through," says Kashyap.

For a common goal

Though each art therapy discipline functions within its own parameters, there is also inter-relation with one or several of the other arts (dance, music, drama and visual art). "We might have our differences (as all families have), but I think there is a great deal of respect and overlap between these artistic disciplines," says Anshuma Kshetrapal, in the company of Mike Clarke — they trained together in the M A Drama and Movement Therapy (Sesame) course at London's Royal Central School of Speech and Drama, and now shuttle between India and the UK for their therapy programmes. "Ultimately, we are all working towards the same ideal: expression of the self through creative methods."

CMT cuts across geographical, socio-cultural and economic boundaries, and gender divides. It can be utilised to help those in kindergarten to those in their twilight years; it can be practised with an individual or in a group setting. The movement experiences offered to populations vary according to the therapeutic needs of its participants. With the visually impaired, elements of folk dances that would involve touch — for example, holding hands in a circle — would be incorporated, while for the hearing impaired, elements from Indian classical dance involving hand gestures, storytelling and facial expressions would be more appropriate.

For adults with schizophrenia, therapists might use components of creative/contemporary dance like mirroring or shadowing to ground such patients in reality. "We do not really teach a form or a style, but lead clients into creating their own personal movement language and expression to communicate what they have suppressed or desire to bring forth," says Kashyap.

Dance movement psychotherapist Devika Mehta, from Mumbai, uses elements of Gujarati folk dance in her therapy sessions. Garba, she says, has movements that represent the cycle of life — from birth to death — with the only constant being god. The claps charge the acupressure points, while the body bending ahead up and down helps to cross lateral and upper-lower connectivity. Dandiya improves hand-eye coordination, communication, rhythm and synchrony with groups as well as partners.

With roots in psychology and inspiration from her mum who was a special educator, and her own love for dance and movement, it was foreordained that Chennai-based Tarana Katri should work with children with special needs. Most parents and children are open to trying new forms of therapy, says Katri, co-founder of Synchrony, which is dedicated to promoting the awareness and importance of movement therapy with this population. "People need to understand that such a deep process takes time and commitment," she confesses. But what is the rate of success? "Success is a tricky term," says Katri. "Personally, if my client finds the therapy as a space in which they feel safe enough to explore themselves, I feel I'm successful." For the therapist herself, it involves a lot of self-exploration and understanding, and also constant learning.

In her book My Body, My Wisdom, Kashyap cautions about the fallacy that CMT is used only for people with disabilities. People who function normally, she finds, are as disadvantaged, in varying degrees. Rather than teaching dance, these therapists assess and evaluate needs and issues of their clients individually, then initiate and help to develop movement experiences, taking off from the physical-emotional-intellectual levels of the individuals. Therapists attempt to elicit movements that are considered symbolic of the inner voice of individuals, explains Kashyap.

Varun Venkit echoes Kashyap's sentiment. "I always believed in the therapeutic benefits of drumming for one and all. It was only a question of convincing the people around me of the same," says this drum circle therapist from Pune. Venkit's Taal Inc has worked with a spectrum of clients like commercial sex workers, corporate groups, special needs groups and students. "The aim for each of our sessions is to create a space where participants can feel free enough to forget themselves, and thereafter share their thoughts and feelings. This in itself is known to be therapeutic. Using the drum as a metaphor to express oneself is a safe, unobtrusive way to do so," he says.

One who cares about a sidelined section of our population is Alida Esmail, who has, for the past three years, been working on a project with seniors in Canada. "Older adults frequently present certain functional limitations, so we work with their current movement repertoire and introduce props and activities accordingly in order to provide a space where each individual in the group can grow," she says.

Still on the path of therapy but working with a totally different medium is Eliza Homer, who currently resides in Mexico, where she is focussed on "exploring the role of textiles and other folk art traditions for healing and well-being." This bilingual art educator, administrator, author and expressive arts therapist has worked with a range of underserved populations in the US, including youth, adults with severe mental illnesses, incarcerated males and several Native American communities, and emphasises on utilising creative modalities to address trauma.

Evan Hastings's passion lies in interactive theatre, to use it to deal with social and environmental issues. Working at San Francisco County Jail with its men incarcerated for violent crimes, Hastings realised that "realistic re-enactments of traumatic events can be emotionally torturous for performers and spectators alike." He co-created his first shadow theatre performance in 2001, in response to the September 11 attacks on the World Trade Center. "Through shadows we can visually create abstract representations of traumatic events without they being emotionally overwhelming," he says.

The theatres Gender Shadow and Shadow Liberation confront the issue of gender violence using shadow puppets, improvisational theatre and masks. Audience members are invited on stage to offer improvisational interventions during scenes depicting oppression. "This artistic dialogue offers no quick fix, but rather places faith in the emerging ethics of the community to creatively address the problem," explains Hastings.

Considering cultures

In India, Hastings has spent the past few years working with Ramachandra Pulavar, a traditional shadow puppeteer from Kerala who practises thol pavai koothu (traditional shadow play). "By rooting our practice in an indigenous aesthetic, we pay respect to traditional shadow puppetry, which has offered a space to artistes to voice criticism and social commentary," says Hastings.

It's important for movement therapists to be aware of cultural norms because it's natural for clients to respond with motifs from their cultural background. Kashyap found that her clients in the West are more comfortable with free movement and silence, while in India, clients initially prefer structure and music. Facial expressions, hand gestures, Indian rhythms, footwork, body movements and Indian-style props are some of the Indian metaphors that Kashyap has exported to her workshops in the West.

Kshetrapal was keenly aware of the culture while working with a group of East Asian women who had suffered severe domestic abuse and were seeking asylum in London. Their stories were horrifying, and because of that, the victims had severe symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PSTD) and trust and rage issues. When they met Kshetrapal, they played games that gradually brought in themes and metaphors around trust. After six months of working together, they were able to recount stories of healing to the group. This was because of the safe space that had been created to allow self-expression, explains Kshetrapal. Both Kshetrapal and Clarke caution that while healing takes place, "there are no miracles."

There's a growing and urgent need for the mental healthcare of refugees, asylum seekers and displaced persons, says Katia Verreault from the Netherlands. Their mental health is severely affected due to traumatic histories, precarious living conditions, discrimination, and post-migration adversities. Current events in Europe are indicative of this urgency.

In India, over 60 million people have been internally displaced since the partition in 1947. People continue to migrate for reasons such as natural and industrial disasters, and urban development. "But attending to the needs of this vulnerable section of people differs significantly on cultural, religious and ethical levels," says Verreault, who taps into the existing resources of dances and rituals while working in different cultural settings.

Verreault's practice-based research that she has conducted with refugees and asylum seekers in the Netherlands, Uganda, Kenya, Nepal and India shows that CMT can help in bridging an individual's emotional, cognitive and somatic processes to stimulate body-mind integration.

Hyderabad-based drama therapist Mahnoor Yar Khan has been doing just that in the conflict zones in Palestine for 25 years. Stone pelting, verbal abuse and suspicion were the initial responses. Working against all odds in the West Bank and Gaza, with adolescents "who were very involved with the fighting," Khan found that they were as scarred by the fighting as with the violence within their own homes. She worked single-handedly, designing, implementing and documenting the programme, in addition to training Palestinian animators.

CMT derives its validity from its symbiotic relationship with the health and medical community, and the constant practise-based research of movement therapists. Dr Suganthi Ravichander, 23 years a paediatrician, says that she has recommended music for nine and 10-year-olds to improve their concentration. Janavi, with an MSc in Clinical Psychology, says, "Psychology is now happy to extend itself to include these approaches, for we are all trying minimum dependency on medication."

Kashyap feels bitterly about the lack of employment opportunities for arts-based therapists and no master's degree courses to train movement therapists, in India. To redress this issue, Kashyap and four talented women have co-founded Creative Movement Therapy Association of India (CMTAI), headquartered in Delhi, with a branch in Bengaluru.

This is an independent organisation that brings together practitioners, trainees, beneficiaries and supporters of Creative Movement Therapy across India and the globe. CMTAI held its third international conference (in Pune recently) to discuss cross-cultural applicability of the arts therapies and their integration in society, particularly within the Indian context.

India has always been a fertile land for those who have dared to dream. And our people have always possessed imagination and hope to go after their dreams, asserts Shreekumar Varma

No apologies here to those whose dreams lost out. They'll dream again. What happens to your dream lies as much in you as in your dream itself. Without you, there's no dream. Without your sweat, the dream is doomed.

The earliest bedtime story I heard of a doomed dream was that of a starving Brahmin couple on the verge of suicide. They were dirt poor, bereft of family, and not inclined to hard work. In a last moment of sanity, the wife tells the man: "Why don't you go and see the King? He'll help. After all, you're a Brahmin."

So the husband leaves for the palace. From the dregs of despair, the woman rises in slow stages, dreaming of what the King would give, how their lives would change, how those nasty neighbours would goggle with envy, and how she and her husband would look back to scoff at their ill-advised suicide plan.

As the dream blossomed rabidly, she looked around at her wretched home and decided nothing in it should remain once the money came in. So she threw out all their old furniture, their pots and pans, and just about everything else. Her eyes fell on their shabby clothes hanging on a peg, and her lip curled in scorn. She struck up a fire and set about burning them.

Everything must be new, she whispered to herself, hurling even the clothes she wore into the burning heap. That was that. She waited, in naked triumph, for a wonderful transformation. Her husband returned home with bad news!

The moral of the story: Build on what you have or what you'll make, rather than burning your bridges and waiting for someone else to build you a new world. In short, push your dream.

We live in a dreamer's paradise. India is fertile soil for the rooted dreamer. Our people have always possessed imagination and hope, which is why our religion survived, our culture soared, our leaders remained emperors, and our film stars sowed dreams. Even in the midst of drudgery, we see stars. Not the painful ones, the hopeful kind.

Pause to ask why The Beatles came here, drawn by the magic of Ravi Shankar's strings, and stayed on to meditate. Or why our poverty and untouchable exoticism soon gave way to a surprising doability in the eyes of the progressive West. An uncle told me of how he visited Maharishi Mahesh Yogi's ashram in Switzerland, and actually saw a white man levitating when a door briefly opened. India has that effect on the world!

Contrasting experiences

In the West, youngsters always had a ready-made, time-tested departure gate. Remember the biodata of great writers, how they left home, worked in cargo holds of ships, became lumberjacks, waiters, farm boys. Experience shows up. Like a bird rising from the bogs, spreading its muddied wings and soaring into the air, a dream takes you higher, fuelled by the memory of dirt and deprivation, even as you leave all that behind. What doesn't bog you down can lift you up.

In India, you have to swim against patriarchal protection and emotional comfort. You have to struggle to stray! Still, talent will tell, if it's pushed by perseverance. Years ago, a boy fled home on a trivial pretext, wandering about, even singing on trains for food. His sole support was his own courage and talent. Today, he's counted among the legends of Hindustani music, Pandit Bhimsen Joshi.

Things are changing. We too have our legitimate vagrants. The difference between the dreams of the wealthy West and "indigent" India is slowly fading. India is freeing up, making it easier than ever for the dreamer. Financial facilitators like Narasimha Rao and Manmohan Singh, dream-weavers like Kalam and Modi, and even our new-age gurus, both spiritual and motivational, have laid out a practical patchwork of possibility. Now, it's left to us. So, are we ready?

Let's look at the happy happenings of today. The start-ups, and their reverberant ripples. Meet Sonam Wangchuk, founder of Students' Educational and Cultural Movement of Ladakh. It's an alternative school that exposes students to real-life skills, encouraging them to find their own path. The students run the school! You'll remember Wangchuk was played by Aamir Khan in 3 Idiots.

Or the three college friends who started Bookchor.com. Their own difficulty in getting second-hand books propelled them to a career that's made it easier for later students. Those who convert their own challenges into easier paths for others have an additional advantage: emotional connect. Bookchor has a customer base of 57,000 across 27 states. And they only started in October 2015.

The ideas are endless: car-sharing (Revv), healthy bacteria in food (Prana Foods), a balm to ease the pain of 'customer service' (Aino), a host of self-publishing helpers, and even a start-up to launder dirty linen in hostels. This last, called Digital Dhobi, is the brainchild of a 21-year-old whose practical problem ended in a brainwave.

"More than 90% of start-ups die," says Bikash Barai in his TEDx talk. "To make a great hero, you need a great villain." He says, when you get a great idea, see if it will solve a great problem. Sounds rational, when you think of demand and supply, and the fact that most of the start-ups I mentioned began with a deeply felt personal problem that was also a universal problem. "Stop looking for ideas, and start looking for great problems!" says Bikash.

Interesting discoveries

Staying with TED Talks, Bill Gross studied the reasons behind the success and failure of select companies. He discovered contributory factors for the difference between success and failure in this order: 1. Timing, 2. The Team and Execution, 3. The Idea, 4. The Business Model, and finally, 5. Funding.

He gives the example of Airbnb, which was passed over by several funders because they thought it was stupid to expect people to open out their homes to strangers. But the timing was right. The idea came at a time of recession. People didn't have money to book into fancy hotels. And the home-owners could use that extra bit of cash. The idea caught fire. Its flames are still bright and prevalent.

I would say the time is ripe in this country for fresh ideas. For dreams to take wing. For making that emotional connect. Because India is fertile ground, as always. And, as we all know, people will be people.

The "you-too-can-do-a-start-up" spirit hangs like pollen in the air the millennium Indians seem to breathe, especially those from Bengaluru, Mumbai, Gurgaon and New Delhi.

In an otherwise bleak situation when funds are scarce; only 20-odd venture capital firms are active; barely five venture debt firms around; and there are middlemen galore to deal with at every step, we still hear of a new arrival in the start-up ecosystem every other week.

Since June 2014, some 2,281 Indian start-ups had begun operations across a range of sectors, including e-commerce, health technology, robotics, logistics, business intelligence and analytics, food technology, and online recruitment.

Youths from predominantly middle-class upbringing are either quitting reasonably well-paid jobs, or those straight out of college taking the plunge to become entrepreneurs.

According to a Nasscom report, India has moved up to the third position and has emerged as the fastest growing base of start-ups worldwide. Interestingly, the trend is increasingly shifting from start-ups seen majorly as disrupters to also being enablers of change. Hence, there is greater collaboration being seen and expected between different players of the ecosystem with the start-ups.

"A nation which has traditionally been risk-averse all these years has become a country of risk-takers," says Bhavin Turakhia, a mid-30s Mumbai youth who along with brother Divyank started a web technology business venture, Directi, in 1998 with a loan of Rs 25,000 from their accountant father. The Turakhia brothers were recently front-page fodder for the national dailies when they sold their online advertising firm, medianet.in, for a whopping $900 million.

As a serial tech entrepreneur, over the last 18 years, the Turakhias have set up and founded or co-founded 11 businesses. In 2014, the brothers sold their web hosting company to Nasdaq-listed Endurance Group for $160 million.
Stories like these continue to inspire a new generation of entrepreneurs, mostly in their mid-20s, who are willing to suffer setbacks, anxiety, unimaginable stress and endless sleepless nights to make their dreams come true, and believe, rightly and wrongly, that entrepreneurship was "in their blood" and one day they will retire rich with a private jet to their name.

What the US economy witnessed in the 90s is being played in India — bandwidth availability. No longer simply a basic tool, technology has become a more critical competitive advantage for start-ups today. Though the percentage (19%) of internet penetration is far low, in absolute values the country shows some astounding figures. India is close to replacing the US as the second largest enabled market with numbers inching towards 300-million-internet-users mark, the largest being China.

The year 2015 was a formative year for the Indian fintech (financial technology) sector, which saw the emergence of numerous fintech start-ups, incubators and investments from public and private investors. One among many fintech start-ups was Hummingbill, an Accounts Receivable Management software that gets invoices paid faster, reducing businesses' average day's sales outstanding. Founded by New-Yorker Adam Walker, who is presently stationed in Bengaluru, Hummingbill has 15 active users of the software, including companies like Capillary Technologies and Freecharge.

Asked why he relocated from New York to Kenya to begin a start-up in India, Adam says, "The market there was too small while India is very promising as more and more talent from Silicon Valley is moving back to India. Moreover, the "India Stack" from Unified Payment Interface, to digital signatures, to Public Switched Telephonic Network to eKYC (Know Your Customer) to the digital locker, is opening up many opportunities for start-up companies to leverage the new technologies to facilitate presenceless, cashless, and paperless services — from banking to healthcare."

According to Fintech In India: A Global Growth Story, a paper published jointly by Nasscom 1000 Start-ups and KPMG, India is gaining ground on the growth of the fintech ecosystem including themes like next-generation payments, P2P lending, roboadvisory, Bank in a Box, security and biometrics with a fair supply of proficient and inexpensive talent, a potential to capture a large portion of the unbanked population, and a steady inflow of funds.

Interestingly, while most start-ups were busy in setting up their terrestrial business, serial entrepreneurs and researchers, namely Dr Prasad H L Bhat and Dr Neha Satak, were exploring internet delivery from space through their start-up, Astrome Technologies.

Dr Bhat started Streamoid Technologies and led the development of core IP (Internet Protocol) in visual research domain that the company is now monetising while Dr Satak, who following her PhD from Texas A&M University, worked as a Postdoctoral Research Associate with the USA's Air Force Research Lab, and has to her credit founding two space companies, namely Scientific Preparatory Academy of Cosmic Explorers (SPACE) and Experimental Center for Applied Physical Systems (ECAPS, LLC). The duo has set up Astrome Technologies, which is engaged in exploring internet delivery from space.

Says Dr Satak, "We knew that satellite-based internet is the quickest means of reaching the remotest locations, but what is more amazing is that we found that satellite-based internet works out to be significantly less expensive to set up the infrastructure, than ground-based fibre and tower internet delivery mechanism."

Astrome Technologies, which has received seed investments from Angels and the Indian Institute of Science, has a patent on millimetre wave technology. Elaborating on the same, she says, "A number of companies globally are aspiring to launch constellations of satellites around Earth to provide internet connectivity to all. What they lack are high bandwidth transponders as currently, only speeds of 8 Gbps are possible per transponder. For each transponder that is launched in space, anywhere between $3 million and $30 million dollars is spent on manufacturing and launching the satellite that carries it. Therefore, more the speeds you can get per transponder, cheaper is the per Gbps connectivity from space. Using our patented millimetre wave technology, we are developing space transponders that will deliver 100 Gbps capacity that is 12 times the capacity of the existing transponders in the market."

While big names like OneWeb, Space X and Boeing have plans to launch a constellation of 1,000-plus satellites in low earth orbit for the purpose of providing internet connectivity to remote areas, Astrome plans to launch only 150 satellites to cover the developing countries belt which includes South Asia, South-east Asia, Australia, Africa, South America, parts of North America and Arab countries.

Typically, start-ups begin by building a first minimum viable product, a prototype, to validate, assess and develop the new ideas or business concepts. You're unlikely to consider addressing issues related to agriculture among business concepts until you've heard of Hosachiguru, an agricultural asset management company based in Bengaluru. The trio behind Hosachiguru (meaning tender sprouts in Kannada), Ashok Jayanthi, Sriram Chitlur and Srinath Setty, all engineering graduates, address the need for "individuals, especially urbanites who not only crave to re-live those wonderful moments of childhood, but wish their children to have similar experiences of yesteryears in their home towns."

Entirely bootstrapped to the tune of Rs 50 lakh to kickstart its operations, Hosachiguru, with a team of 40 people, is converting dry lands to arable fruit orchards at the rate of 20 acres a month. Says Srinath Shetty, "So far we have around 450 acres and a couple of hundreds more in the pipeline. We are growing at a modest rate of 100-150 acres per annum. Currently, we are focused in a cluster of areas near southern Bengaluru and in the neighbouring Anantpur district of Andhra Pradesh."

With plans to build a strong network of project managers, agronomist and skilled work force before taking the next big plunge, Hosachiguru's idea is to templatise farming and put appropriate checks and balance to deliver efficiency at scale. Dwelling on its strategy, Shetty says, "We have evolved over a period of time in strategising certain models like contract farming, agro forestry projects for institutions/ corporate and horti services for the urban real estate (where Resident Welfare Associations and gated communities have their own farm backyard). On the marketing front for the produce, we are looking at partnering with institutions, start-ups and co-operative societies that will help us have direct access to markets/ consumers."

A decade back, the term e-com had yet to enter common man's vocabulary. Those were times when you couldn't order a Roman Veg Supreme pizza or a Gucci flats online as you can do nowadays. So when in 2006, Prakash Mundhra started his start-up, Sacred Moments, to sell puja kits, no one took him seriously. Still an MBA student at Pune's Symbiosis Institute of Management, he began his venture with an initial investment of Rs 6 lakh, a part of it coming from the money he won in the college competitions. "Not many were sure that the model would work. But I persevered, giving myself six months to make it a success," says Mundhra who operates from Thane, adding, "We are clocking on an average 30% growth annually over the past 10 years."

Many have tried to imitate Mundhra but failed. What started as puja kits now includes Holi kit, Ganapati kit, Durga puja kit, grihapravesh (house-warming ceremony) kit and even a car puja kit. He has moved to corporate gifts and also exports to countries with large Indian diaspora, namely the US, the UK and Canada. The latter is growing at 200% a year and constitute a third of the company's total sales. Marketing through Linkedin for B2B business has helped Sacred Moments reach clients across the world and it clocked a turnover of Rs 4.02 crore last financial year.

Have you ever considered designing your own flats, pumps or sandals? Delhi-based first generation entrepreneurs Anshul Sood and Neha Kumthekar's start-up Oceedee India offers options to those women who are never fully satisfied with the pair of shoes they pick up from high-end showrooms. Be it the design, the fit or the material used. "Our USP is an online design studio that offers a simple, playful and an awe-inspiring 3D experience for designing shoes using close to 250 styles, 50 different types of leathers, 13 different heels, and preview it before ordering their unique pair. The idea is to offer them a platform to design a shoe that suits their style," says Kumthekar.

According to Nasscom, there are around 5,000 technology start-ups in the country, funded or not by venture capital. India may be called a start-up nation thanks to so many ventures, but reality is that the country is witnessing a major shakeup. Since June 2014, around 2,281 Indian start-ups had begun operations, of which 997 have already closed down — a failure rate of close to 50%, according to data collated by research firm Xeler8. These were enterprises across a range of sectors, including e-commerce, health technology, robotics, logistics, business intelligence and analytics, food technology and online recruitment.

It's a known fact that 90% of the ventures are likely to fail and the same is not specific just to India but a universal phenomenon as first generation entrepreneurs try to disrupt traditional markets. According to Bhavin Turakhia, most start-ups fail because they chase valuation rather than create value. "Like media elsewhere, Indian media too is obsessed with numbers and go about town talking about those which attract investments in millions and billions while rarely dwelling about their products," says Turakhia who, having sold two big businesses, is concentrating on their communication business products, namely Flock, Zeta and Radix.

Some have attributed the failures to lack of innovation and over-crowding. It's a question of too many addressing too few. Consider online shopping channels which are overcrowded with players like Snapdeal, Infibeam, Amazon, Ebay, Myntra, Jabong and Flipkart. Or Deal-a-Day channels numbering around 20 with names like mydala, koovs, bagitttoday, timesdeal, dealsnow, rediff-deal ho jaye and others.

Marketer and angel funder Mahesh Murthy, zeroing on the number 1 reason why start-ups fail, wrote in a Quora post: "They run out of money. I can't emphasise enough how important it is to have enough cash to pay your people till your customers start paying you." Despite issues of weak capitalisation, difficult environments and fierce competitors, one can still triumph. That's what the history of 20th century's corporate world tells us, that companies prosper not due to their great technology or brilliant founders, but great leadership.

The theme for the next photo feature is Piles of Things. Submit your entry (one per person) with your name, a caption, & information about where you have taken the photo, to sundaydh@gmail.com latest by January 2, 2017.

File size should at least be 500 KB. The subject line for the mail is 'My Take'

Sales here, discounts there! Surrounded as we are by commercialisation, it is easy to forget the true traditions of Christmas. Like the legendary Santa Claus, let's travel around the world to catch glimpses of this religious holiday celebrated in different places.

But firstly, is Christmas actually Jesus's birthday? Well, no one actually knows for sure. The first recorded celebration of Christmas on this date was in 336 AD by Roman Emperor Constantine, who was the first Christian Roman Emperor. Pope Julius I, the bishop of Rome, originally proclaimed December 25 as the official celebration day for Jesus's birthday in 350 AD, the date conveniently coinciding with the Saturnalia festival celebrated in the Roman Empire. However, the official Christmas Day holiday and celebrations are held on January 7 in countries such as Belarus, Egypt, Ethiopia, Georgia, Kazakhstan, Macedonia, Moldova, Montenegro, Serbia, Russia and the Ukraine, where Orthodox Christians follow the Gregorian calendar (introduced by Pope Gregory XIII in 1582).

When it comes to Christmas celebrations, it is the English Christmas that sets the standard throughout the world, thanks to the novelist Charles Dickens.

"... Charles Dickens can be said to have almost singlehandedly created the modern idea of Christmas..." says Peter Ackroyd, Dickens's most recent biographer. In 1988, London's Sunday Telegraph even called him 'The Man Who Invented Christmas'. His idealised visions of snowy, blustery weather outside and family warmth — with piping hot turkey and goose to eat, hot punch and wassail to drink, and games like Blind man's bluff to play — have showcased the English Christmas to the rest of the world.

Modern day Christmas celebrations in England started to take shape during the Victorian times. Prince Albert of Germany, who married Queen Victoria, brought to England the German tradition of setting up and decorating a fir tree indoors to serve as the Christmas tree. In today's England, Christmas decorations start going up on December 1. Elaborate decorations and lighting are put up in famous shopping areas as Oxford Street, London. People decorate their homes with the Christmas tree and mistletoe (a parasitic plant) in order to bring good luck. It also helps people get lucky — if you caught someone under the mistletoe, you could kiss them without getting your face slapped. Children make lists of what gifts they want for Christmas and throw them into the fireplace hoping that they get swept up the chimney and reach Father Christmas. By the way, the English say 'Happy Christmas'.

On a traditional English Christmas Eve, people go out to their favourite pubs. People with fireplaces may burn a log called the yule log. Children hang stockings on their bedposts and fireplaces hoping they will be filled with treats in the morning. On Christmas morning, children open their presents from Father Christmas and pull crackers. Crackers are short cardboard tubes wrapped in colourful paper. Two people hold each side of the paper and pull, and with a bang, out comes a colourful party hat, toy or gift, and a silly joke. This is great fun, especially for children.

Christmas fare
In England, the traditional feast consists of roast turkey or chicken, small sausages wrapped with bacon called 'pigs in blankets', and vegetables, especially Brussels sprouts. Desserts include mince pies, rich fruit cake and plum pudding. The plum pudding is made by tying suet (raw fat of beef or mutton), flour, sugar, raisins, nuts and spices loosely in cloth and boiling it until the ingredients are 'plum' or enlarged enough to fill the cloth. It is then aged and soaked in brandy. At the time of serving, it is lit, when the liquor burns with a blue flame. It is then sliced and served like cake.

They also celebrate December 26 as Boxing Day, when they have great sales at stores. In Scotland, they celebrate the end of the year, December 31, as Hogmanay, which can make even Christmas seem like a small feast. They have a tradition called 'first footing' — if a dark male enters a house first, it is good luck for the family.

In the United States, things are done a little differently. For one thing, they say, "Merry Christmas." For another, Americans go overboard with their Christmas decorations, especially the lights. One of the decorations they favour is garlands for the Christmas tree, made by stringing popcorn. They also decorate their homes with Poinsettia plants, which have lovely red-and-green leaves. They also love to drink eggnog at Christmastime. This is an egg-milk punch with milk/cream, whipped eggs and some sort of alcohol.

In America, Christmas Eve is usually spent with family, watching old movies like It's a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story or Home Alone, or listening to Christmas carols. By the way, Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer is not part of folklore, but the product of Robert L May's imagination. He came up with the idea for marketing colouring books for the retail giant, Montgomery Ward, in 1939.

American children call Father Christmas Santa Claus, which is derived from St Nicholas. This saint was a very rich and kind bishop who used to help the poor and give secret gifts to people who needed them. Ever wonder why Santa wears red? Well, St Nicholas was a bishop, and bishops wore robes of red. Also, the American magazine Harper's Weekly published illustrations of Santa Clause painted by a man named Thomas Nast. Of all his paintings, the one of Santa with a big red belly, an armful of toys and smoking a pipe became a hit. Since then, red is his colour! This jolly old man is supposed to come down the chimney on Christmas Eve bearing gifts to leave under the tree and fill stockings that have been hung up for that purpose.

Care for cookies?
Americans bake a lot of cookies during the season. Christmas dinner is usually ham or roast beef. Dessert is usually pie. Jewish people in the US have a custom of eating Chinese food on Christmas Day.

Speaking of Chinese, there are only a small number of Christians in China and they call Christmas 'Sheng Dan Jieh', which means Holy Birth Festival. They call Santa Claus 'Christmas Old Man' or 'Dun Che Lao Ren' or 'Lan Khoong-Khoong' — Nice Old Father. However, their lunar New Year or Spring Festival, which begins in late January or early February, is the most important celebration for the Chinese people and lasts three days. This is the time when people travel long distances to be with family.

By the way, have you ever wondered why Xmas is used interchangeably with Christmas? Though some people think that it is taking the 'Christ' out of Christmas, it is supposed to make it more secular, this is not so. The real reason is that in Greek, the symbol for the letter 'Chi' is X, and it is combined with the symbol 'rho' to spell Christ. That is why Xmas is used instead of Christmas.

Furthermore, in Greece, many people believe in kallikantzaroi, the goblins that cause mischief during the 12 days of Christmas. The Greek version of Santa Claus is St Vasilis, who brings a few small gifts for children. They exchange gifts on January 1, which is celebrated as St Basil's Day.

Christopsomo, a bread made with a cross carved into the crust, is made on Christmas Eve. On Christmas Day, the head of the household makes the sign of cross over it, and cuts it and gives a piece to each person.

'God Jul!' In Sweden, Christmas is known as 'Jul'. Here, Christmas begins on December 13 with the celebration of St Lucia Day. On this day, the eldest daughter of the house wakes up early and dresses in a long white gown and a crown made of twigs and nine lighted candles, before waking others up. For the day, she is called Lussi or Lussibruden' (Lucy bride).

'Jultomten' is Santa, and 'tomte' is the tiny Christmas gnome who brings gifts to put under the tree. The dinner consists of a bountiful smorgasbord of dried fish, ham, etc, and for dessert, they have a special rice pudding which has an almond in it. The person who finds the almond will marry in the coming year.

While most people go to church on Christmas Eve, families in Finland visit the sauna. And Santa doesn't have to travel too far to give them gifts, because he lives in Lapland, which is north of the Arctic Circle. The Finns go to cemeteries and leave candles in hanging lanterns around the graves of their family members. Since the dark sets in early, around 3 pm, the whole cemetery glowing in the light of the lanterns looks like a winter wonderland.

In Norway, similar customs are observed for the festival. It is also the origin of the yule log, a special big log burned in the fireplace to bring good luck to the family. This is also why many Christmas cakes, desserts and cheeses are in the shape of logs. By the way, all brooms are hidden away at this time, because legend has it that witches and evil spirits may steal them away.

Germany is where the Christmas tree or the 'Tannenbaum' originated. This started with decorating evergreen trees as part of the German winter solstice tradition. Earlier, fir trees were used; now it is spruce. Also, Germans hang a pickle ornament on the Christmas tree. The child who finds it first gets a small gift. Christmas (or 'Weihnachten') is the most important of the major holidays. Their version of Santa is known as 'der Weihnachtsmann' or literally 'the Christmas man'. German children leave clogs and shoes, not socks and stockings, outside their doors for him to put their gifts in.

In Ukraine, people decorate their Christmas trees with spider webs to recreate a myth that talks about a poor woman who couldn't afford decorations. On Christmas Eve, a spider wove a web on it, which began to glitter like gold and diamonds when the morning rays fell on it. In the Czech Republic, unmarried women perform a very unusual ritual on Christmas Eve. With their backs to the house door, they throw one of their shoes over their shoulder. If they fall with the toe pointed to the door, it means they'll get married in the coming year and leave their parents' house.

Children in the Netherlands are most excited on December 5 because of Sinterklaas. Sinterklaas is another red-suited, white-bearded man who gives gifts like Santa Claus, but who is somber, not jolly. He is surrounded by his helpers, Zwarte Pieten (Blacks Petes). Sinterklaas is purported to live in Madrid, Spain, and arrives by boat from Spain in mid-November. He comes to different ports in the Netherlands each time, so that more children have an opportunity to get gifts.

Another unique Dutch tradition is the mid-winter horn blowing. Every morning at dawn from Advent (the fourth Sunday before Christmas), farmers blow long horns made from the wood of elder trees while standing over a well, to announce the arrival of Christmas.

In Austria, children are extra good at this time because of the Christmas devil, Krampus, who is said to beat naughty children.

Strangely, the Catalonian (Spanish) nativity scene consists not only of baby Jesus in a manger and the three wise men, but also the figure of a shitting man, called El Caganer, squatting with a bare butt and pants around his knees in a corner.

A Japanese Christmas is very commercial, being that only a half of 1% of Japanese are Christians. It is also regarded as a very romantic time. But thanks to great marketing, the popular Christmas feast is the Chicken Dinner at KFC. It is so popular that you have to make reservations way ahead of time!

If you go to Greenland for Christmas dinner, expect to be served delicacies like mattak, whale skin with some blubber attached, or kiviak, which is raw flesh of 500 auk (small sea birds) wrapped in a sealskin and decomposed under a rock for seven months. Yum-yum!

In Caracas, Venezuela, people go to Mass in churches, on roller skates. So all roads are closed to cars on Christmas.

And of course, in the land down under, Australia, Christmas is bound to be very different because it occurs in the middle of their summer. Here beach time barbecues and outdoor concerts are the norm.

Christmas traditions vary not only from one country to another, but also from one home to another. In my home, Christmas tradition is a small reusable plastic tree with a few ornaments and a feast that always features rasam, rice, payasa and cake. What is yours?

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

As we welcome a new year, let's look back on the year gone by. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, with sensations, surprises and shrill reactions being the norm. We hope that in the new year, these storms, too, shall pass, and more positive things will happen.

The Rio Olympics, the US presidential elections, and Pokémon GO, the new real world mobile game, got the whole world, or at least the world of Twitter, most excited in 2016. At Rio Olympics, records were broken and new sport stars emerged. India's women athletes' stellar performances did the country proud. American swimming legend Michael Phelps won his 23rd gold medal and a career total of 28 medals to retire as the world's most decorated Olympian.

Ultimate stunner

Defying widespread expectations, Donald Trump was elected president of the United States, defeating Democrat candidate Hillary Clinton. The US saw protests and talks of a rigged election, while several expressed loss of faith in America's political system. Donald Trump is expected to withdraw military support to countries in Europe and Asia, unless adequate compensation is provided.

Trump has indicated a desire to ease tensions with Russia, praising President Putin's leadership, Trump has threatened to scrap several existing free trade agreements with other countries, which he blames for American job losses. Trump has said that he will "cancel" the Paris Climate Agreement within 100 days of taking office, and will strive to reverse climate change regulations introduced by President Obama. On December 8, Trump sent a sealed letter to Prime Minister Narendra Modi, through the US Secretary of Defence. The significance of this gesture will emerge in the days to come.

On June 23, the United Kingdom voted to leave the European Union in their 'Brexit' referendum. Prime Minister David Cameron resigned immediately, and Conservative Party MPs elected Theresa May as prime minister.

Prime Minister Modi dominated the news by boldly ordering cross-border surgical strikes against terror camps in Pakistan. On January 2, seven bravehearts died thwarting a terrorist infiltration into Pathankot Air Force station. In June, a CRPF convoy was attacked in Pampore, killing eight Indian officers. In a dastardly attack in Uri on September 18, militants threw grenades on a brigade of sleeping Indian soldiers, killing 19. Pakistan faced international censure. Eleven days later, Indian forces carried out 'surgical strikes' on terrorist camps across the border. They worked on intelligence that these camps were planning terror attacks in Indian metros.

The strikes drew unequivocal public support. Even staunch detractors, the Rahul Gandhi-led Congress and Arvind Kejriwal, calmed down after demanding "proof" of the strikes. Modi dedicated Diwali to the Indian soldier, whose courage and sacrifice allowed the country to celebrate the festival in security and peace.

On November 8, Modi made a surprise announcement demonetising existing 500 and 1,000 rupee notes in a bid to remove black money and counterfeit cash for funding terrorists. But even after a month, many ATMs and banks didn't have adequate cash. Long queues were frequent, and people were disappointed with packets of 10 rupee coins or 2,000 rupee notes, when they wanted some other denomination. The general public and daily business suffered. When the RBI is supplying over thrice the normal amount of cash, how could this happen? Hoarders diverting cash with the connivance of corrupt officials and money launderers, are a key. Such a tremendous exercise has never been undertaken anywhere.

With no past guideposts, the government is tackling difficulties as they arise. The planning is imperfect. At this stage, we cannot condemn demonetisation as an utter failure. Nor can we expect a magic wand to instantly end all corruption. Nobody doubts the good intentions of this measure. Let us pray that issues are soon sorted out, and that demonetisation, combined with other measures like tracking gold and real estate, yields the desired long-term dividends in the war against corruption.

Demonetisation has brought more money transactions under the scanner, and huge cases are already being investigated. The Income Tax Department has seized crores of rupees and bars of gold across the country. The Enforcement Directorate has also raided more than 50 banks across India over suspicions of hawala transactions and laundering money. And the list of post demonetisation seizures is growing.

Meanwhile, 7,900 tribals of Attapady Hills in Kerala and residents of Ibrahimpur village, Siddipet Dist, Telangana, are among the success stories of cashless transactions.

Are these news items evidence of a larger plan to effectively battle corruption and black money? Are we ourselves ready to change our time-honoured corruption-tolerant ways, and accept that we are the ultimate sufferers? Will our elected representatives heed President Pranab Mukherjee's call and work constructively? "Disruption is totally unacceptable in Parliamentary system," the President said. "For God's sake, do your job," he added, upbraiding the Opposition, and telling them that their disruptive strategy amounted to "gagging of the majority" by the minority.

Corruption is deeply ingrained in India. The high and mighty set an example with mega scams through the years, inspiring ordinary people to resort to bribery and cheating wherever possible. It's smart to flout rules. Indians proved their ingenuity in a multi-million dollar scam relating to India-based call centres that cheated thousands of American citizens. Unfortunately, their party ended in October when several Indians were charged by the US Department of Justice for it. Will our own lawmakers and enforcers have the same will and the public support to ensure justice?

War & peace

On December 9, the CBI arrested former Air Force chief S P Tyagi and two others for alleged corruption in the Rs 3,600 crore Augusta Westland VVIP chopper deal, which was scrapped on January 1, 2014, over charges of kickbacks of Rs 423 crore. We hope the truth will come out, and justice will prevail in this, and other past mega-scams.

In 2016, war and terrorism continued to trouble our planet. On March 5, a US air strike killed 150 Al-Shabaab militants near Mogadishu, Somalia. As refugees continued to pour out from war-torn West Asia, Macedonia, Slovenia and Croatia closed their borders from March 9. ISIS suicide bombings in Brussels killed nearly 30 and injured over 200. Taliban-connected Jamaat-ul-Ahrar suicide bombers killed over 70 in a park in Lahore on March 27. ISIS-backed suicide bombings at Brussels killed 28 and injured 260.

April brought hope when a UN-backed ceasefire eased conflict in Yemen between government forces and Houthis rebels supported by Iran. However, in May, three ships carrying refugees across the Mediterranean sank, killing over 700. On June 12, a gunman claiming loyalty to the Islamic State went on a rampage at a gay nightclub in Orlando, Florida. Nearly 50 people were killed and an equal number wounded.

In June, suicide bombers and gunmen attacked Istanbul's Ataturk Airport. A total of 42 people were killed and over 200 wounded. In July, Islamic militants attacked a cafe in Dhaka, Bangladesh. About 20 hostages and two police officials were killed. In July, a lorry bomb killed over 125 and wounded 150 in Baghdad. Islamic State claimed responsibility.

The year 2016 saw welcome strides in gender parity. Indian women excelled in Rio Olympics. Sakshi Malik fought valiantly for a bronze medal in wrestling. P V Sindhu earned a sparkling badminton silver. Dipa Karmakar won the nation's heart by finishing 4th, missing a medal by a whisker. She became the first Indian female gymnast, and the first Indian in 52 years, to compete in the Olympics. Woman wrestler Vinesh Phogat reached the quarterfinals, but an injury made her miss a medal.

In another first, the CRPF deployed a team of 135 women commandos to tackle Naxalite insurgents in Jharkhand. Meanwhile, the BMJ Open Report tracking four million people around the world, for over a century, showed that women were now almost as likely to drink alcohol as men. In June, US Defence Secretary Ashton B Carter lifted the ban on transgendered people serving in the US military.

Technology continued to amaze. The first flower in space, a zinnia, was grown aboard the International Space Station using NASA Veggie system. In April, the first baby with DNA from three parents was born in Mexico, facilitated by mitochondrial transfer. In October, researchers in Madrid developed a robot teacher that can sense when children are distracted in class, and respond by encouraging them. A driverless truck built by Uber's unit Otto used cameras, radars and sensors to travel 200 km in the USA with a cargo of beer. Will humans be outsmarted and rendered obsolete by superior machines? That possibility loomed as Google's DeepMind artificial intelligence won Go challenge against Lee Se-dol.

Environmental degradation remained a burning issue. Climate change and increased acidity in the oceans has brought the 25-million-year-old Great Barrier Reef in the Pacific Ocean on the brink of extinction. This UNESCO-designated World Heritage site is the world's oldest and largest living structure, and the only one visible from space. Much of the corals forming the reef are now dead or dying. UNESCO has listed 55 of the world's 1,052 heritage sites as under risk from wars, natural disasters, poaching, pollution and uncontrolled tourism.

A report by World Wide Fund and other organisations indicate that half of India's wildlife is on the verge of extinction. The Living Planet Index shows a dramatic decline of 58% between 1970 and 2012. The big picture, pieced together from small news items, is chilling. In August, Anthrax, caused by global warming, broke out in Siberia killing one person and infecting several others. 2,300 reindeer also died. The Royal Society Open Science journal published the chilling findings of 15 top conservational scientists. 300-odd wild mammal species in Asia, Africa and Latin America are dying out, thanks to humanity's greed for bush meat.

Closer home, our government declared the unprecedented levels of air pollution in Delhi an emergency situation in November. Schools and construction sites were temporarily shut down. The dramatic increase in toxic particles in the air was due to the increase in construction, toxic fume-emitting vehicles, noisy and polluting crackers during Diwali, and burning of leaves and crop wastes.

As individuals, we can make a difference by switching to public transport or car pools. Composting and reducing non-bio-degradable wastes will definitely help. Let's strive to use less plastic and generate less waste during all celebrations. On April 10, firecrackers caused a deadly explosion at Puttingal Temple in Kerala. In memory of the over-100 who died, and the 400 injured in this tragedy, we hope firecrackers will be banned.

Eminent theoretical physicist Stephen Hawking rightly observed that this is the most dangerous time for our planet. We cannot go on ignoring inequality, because we have the means to destroy our world, but not to escape it. Technology is making many labour-intensive jobs, and even some traditional industries, obsolete. This will increase the rich-poor divide, as large populations migrate to other cities and countries to eke out a living.

In the year gone by, astronomers announced the discovery of an earth-like planet named Proxima B, orbiting star Proxima Centauri. An eminent group of international scientists and entrepreneurs, including Stephen Hawking and Mark Zuckerburg, announced a project to send robot spacecraft to our nearest star, Alpha Centauri. If we insist upon fighting among ourselves and destroying our planet, at least the survivors can hope to find and reach new worlds to exploit and lay waste.

Gone, not forgotten

Leaders

J Jayalalithaa, chief
minister of Tamil Nadu.
Fidel Castro, founder of the Western hemisphere's first communist state in Cuba.
Bhumibol Adulyadej, king of Thailand.
Shimon Peres, former prime
minister of Israel, and a Nobel Peace Prize winner.

Science, Arts, Literature, Sports

George Michael, singer- songwriter.
Leonard Cohen, American music icon.
Prince, pop music megastar.
David Bowie, British rock superstar.
Balamuralikrishna, veteran Carnatic
music exponent.
Mahasweta Devi, eminent author,
social activist, and winner of
several awards.
Alvin Toffler, writer and futurist.
Muhammad Ali, former heavyweight world champion.
Manohar Aich, India's first Mr Universe.
Ray Tomlinson, American computer
scientist, and the inventor of e-mail.
Harper Lee, Pulitzer Prize-winning author.
Carrie Fisher, actor; best known for playing Princess Leia in the 'Star Wars' franchise.

Quietly flows the yarn

Quick take with Jaya Jaitly

The journey of biryani

Along linguistic lines...

Laugh away

Share your photos on the theme 'Piles of Things'

The matchmakers

Watch me as I grow

Best buddy ever

My Take

The narrative of lit fests

On a hot, hot day...

Man & the mountains

My Take

Move for the remedy

In dreamers' paradise

The strength of start-ups

Share your photos on the theme 'Pictures within pictures '

Xmas comes a-calling

One last look...