CHANDAMAMA KATHALO CHADIVA

I grew up with a lot of books around me.  Books of all kinds.  I had rigid likes and dislikes even as a child and I was very selective in the books/stories I read.  Most of the stories I read as a child were from Chandamama. My Dad’s collection included Chandamama magazines from early sixties to late eighties.   Every summer, I read and reread the same stories.  Whatever little I have read has stayed with me forever and has been instrumental in shaping my character and behavior.

I have forgotten the titles of the stories, the characters’ names, the authors, the year of publication etc. But the gist is etched permanently in my mind.

I am sharing some of them;

THREE ADVICES

A poor farmer unable to make ends meet goes to a far off city, leaving his young wife behind.  He works for a rich man as domestic help, who promises to pay the farmer his remuneration at the time of returning to his village and provides him food, shelter and clothes.  The farmer works for the rich man for almost 20 years and decides to retire and conveys it to his master, who has incurred heavy losses in business and loses all the wealth.  Unable to pay the promised payment at the time of retirement, the master offers to give the farmer three advices in lieu of dues.  With no other option, the farmer agrees and collects three chits with advices and walks back to his village. After walking for a longtime, he rests for a while under the shade of a tree and reads the advices;

 Don’t be curious about others’ affairs and ask unnecessary questions.
 Don’t take shortcuts
 Suppress your anger till dawn

The farmer laughs at the advices and begins to walk again.  In a deserted place, he finds a strange looking man tying gold coins to branches of the trees and notices almost all trees around covered with gold coins.  He finds this amusing and almost asks the man with a strange appearance as to why he was doing it, but suddenly remembers his master’s advice and walks past the man.  The man calls the farmer and tells him that, he was tying gold coins to branches for a very long time and was looking for a person who would not question him the rationale behind his act.  To his disappointment all passersby had questioned him and so he killed them and hung to trees little far away and took all the gold they were carrying and tied them to the trees and the cycle continued. The farmer was the only one who had not questioned him and so he gladly gives all the gold he had accumulated over so many years and leaves.  The farmer realizes that by adhering to the master’s advice the farmer not only didn’t get killed, but also got all the gold.  Happily he collects all the gold in bags and starts walking towards his village.

Some more merchants join the farmer enroute, who after walking for a while, decide to take a shortcut to reach the destination faster and invite the farmer too to join them. The farmer is initially tempted, but suddenly remembers his master’s second advice and decides not to deviate.  All the other travelers take the shortcut.  After walking for a few days, the farmer meets his fellow-travelers who had taken the shortcut in a town.  He learns from them that they were robbed in the deserted route.  The farmer thanks his lucky stars and moves forward and reaches his village late in the evening.


He goes straight to his house.  His wife doesn’t recognize him and so he introduces himself as a merchant passing through their village and requests permission to stay in their house overnight.  The wife requests him to stay in the cowshed as the man of the house is away and so it is not appropriate to let a stranger into the house.  The farmer feels very proud of his wife and lies down in the cowshed.  He intends to surprise his wife, who is living in the dilapidated house the next morning. After a while, he sees a young man entering the house and lock it from inside.  He gets very angry, but as per the third advice, decides to question his wife the next morning and suppresses his anger.  Early in the morning, the young man walks out of the house and standing near the gate, shouts “Mother, I will go and get some food for us and also for the guest in the cowshed” and that’s when the farmer realizes that his wife was pregnant when he left the house.  He runs towards the young man, hugs him, introduces himself as the father and showers him with gold coins.

I follow all the three advises.  However curious I am, I refrain from asking unnecessary questions.  I don’t take shortcuts and I never express my anger spontaneously.


THE WAVERING MIND

This is my all time favourite and I have quoted it in another blog.

A rich man, who is also a connoisseur of art, organizes a Harikatha (a composite art form comprising storytelling, poetry, music, dance and philosophy) before an invited audience at his home.  Impressed with the performance, he decides to reward the
Performer, and gets into his room, opens the safe and brings out some gold coins and places them in the tray with the Tamboolam (Betel leaves with areca nuts given to a guest traditionally). Within a few minutes, the host changes his mind and replaces the gold with silver and again silver with a few currency notes.  Observing this and understanding the wavering mind of the host, the performer narrates an episode from the life of Karna, extempore.

A poor Brahmin visits Karna’s palace, seeking alms.  At that time, Karna, who is known for his generosity and righteousness, is massaging his body with oil from a silver bowl.  On seeing the poor man, Karna offers the silver bowl in his left hand, spontaneously.  The Brahmin objects to this and requests Karna to use his right hand for donating, as using the left hand is considered inauspicious.  Karna justifies his stance by stating that the human mind is always wavering and while he changes the bowl to his right hand, there are chances of him changing his mind and refrain from gifting such a precious bowl to a stranger and that gifting/donating should always be spontaneous.

The host having understood the hidden meaning in the story narrated out of context and rewards the performer with gold, as planned originally.

When I decide to gift/donate/ give away, I follow this principle.

WHAT YOU GIVE, YOU GET

I think this is a Jataka story.

The story goes like this; Two widows, live in the same neighbourhood.

One stormy night, a monk knocks at the door of both the ladies and tells them that the house of another lady in the locality is destroyed in lightening and requests help.  While one lady hands over rags, another lady generously gives warm clothes and bedding.

After several years, on a stormy night, the houses of both these widows are destroyed and they go and seek help in a nearby monastery.  As they stand drenched, a monk hands over to the generous widow warm clothes and bedding, where as he provides rags to the other widow.  When questioned, he says that’s what they had deposited for themselves.

Though this situation might sound irrational, this has gone deep into my mind and every time I am helping or giving to someone, I don’t think I am helping them, but I feel, I am doing it for myself.


NO ONE IS INDISPENSABLE

This story is about an old woman who owns the only rooster and fire in the village.  The entire village wakes up to the crowing of the rooster and borrows fire from her for cooking.  She is very proud of this fact and one fine day she leaves the village to the nearby hill with her rooster and fire and doesn’t return.  She does it to see how the villagers survive without her.  The biological clock wakes up the villagers as usual and when the old woman is not found, the villagers make fire with stone and continue with their lives.  The old woman feels very sad to note that she is not indispensable, as he has been thinking.

I have understood this truth very well and realize that life just goes on and no one is indispensable.

P.S. The title is borrowed from a song from the Telugu film EE Abbayi Chaala Manochodu, meaning I have read the story in Chandamama

CURTAINS UP

There is an article in today’s The Hindu, regarding bamboo and vettiver curtains.  The article, particularly the photograph, took me back to the early 90’s.

When I took up my first job in the early 90’s I walked past the corner of T.T.K. Road, where these curtains were (are) woven, every day - the junction of Sriman Sreenivasa Road and T.T.K. Road.  An old man and his wife were seen busy weaving bamboo curtains.  The man was very tall, dark and very weak.  He had difficulty in walking.  His fingers and toes were stiff and little deformed probably due to arthritis, but he was always active, either slicing bamboo or weaving.  The old lady was fair and weak too, but was very supportive.  They spoke the Madras dialect of Telugu.  The footpath was completely occupied by them.  Close to the compound wall in that corner, was a makeshift bench, with bricks and a slab that was wide enough to sit and probably five feet long. I always felt sad for that old couple who had to work so hard in that age. On a few occasions, a middle aged man, as tall as the old man and as fair as the old lady, probably their son and his wife were seen with the old couple, arguing, fighting and thrashing them.

After a few months, the old man became too old to work and probably was also sick.  It was raining on and off and there was no work for them.  Still, the old man lied on the makeshift platform, day and night, rain or shine, with a tarpaulin tied above.  The old lady brought food from home every day and left after he had eaten, leaving him alone.  I wondered why no other family member stayed with him and why the old man was not taken home.  Probably their house was small to accommodate him or probably, they didn’t want to lose this prime corner or the old man was adamant about it.  Whatever be the reason, the scene was very pathetic.  The old man was very tall and his legs were stretched beyond the platform.  The tarpaulin too didn’t provide adequate protection.  When none of his family members were around, the old man begged.  I felt very sad that a skilled artisan had to do this. I always gave him money. At times I gave him snacks.  Every Friday, I gave him the banana that was distributed in my office after the pooja.  My salary was just 800 rupees those days.  Though I had sympathy for the old man, I couldn’t do anything more.  During a weekend at the end of the monsoon, the old man died.  Immediately, the tarpaulin was removed; his old clothes thrown away and the place cleared and his son who was never seen working and only fighting with his parents started working very cheerfully in the same spot.

Witnessing the old age, sickness, poverty, loneliness, helplessness and finally the death from a close-up affected me a lot.  Every time I passed through that spot, I felt very depressed. I thought I should do something for the homeless and the less privileged.  Even after two decades, I am still thinking.

Even today, whenever I think of aging, loneliness or death, I think of that old man. This article has brought back his memory and the associated pain.

P.S. Link of the article

http://www.thehindu.com/society/bamboo-and-vetiver-curtains-come-to-the-rescue-of-chennaites-to-beat-the-summer-heat/article17556949.ece

DOWRY, THE H1 B OF INDIAN MARRIAGES

“After H1B news, Dowry rates in Andhra/Telangana crashed more than TCS/Infosys shares”

Social media was flooded with this joke, soon after the declaration by Trump.

Dowry has been in existence from time immemorial and across all continents.

I don’t know about other States, but in the South, particularly, Andhra, Telangana, Tamilnadu and Kerala, it is prevalent, but in different forms.

Dowry is given in various forms; as hard cash, fixed deposits, gold and diamond ornaments, silver articles, land and buildings, consumable durables and household articles.

While in Tamil Nadu and Kerala, it is mostly in the form of gold, in Andhra and Telengana, it is mostly cash and sometimes, land and buildings.

The reason why only those two States are included in the joke is mainly because of the fact that a significant number of H1 B Visa holders are IT professionals mainly from these two States and also their bragging about the dowry.

A friend of mine who had worked in Andhra & Telengana told me once that, every time he interviewed Telugu speaking candidates, he questioned them about dowry and he was shocked with their replies.

He said not even a single person spoke against it.  They justified it by stating that;

·         it was part of their culture,

·         they too pay dowry for their sisters

·         they have to take care of the expenses of their respective wives for a life time

·         that’s the best way to get a suitable partner

·         if they don’t take, they would be looked down upon

·         after all they have spent a fortune on their education and getting a job and its time they get back what they have invested

·         It is considered an elevator to success.

We are proud non-conformists.  My maternal uncle refused to accept dowry in 1950’s, the first among the clan to do so.  

Those were the days when dowry and bride price co-existed.  Depending on the law of demand and supply, either dowry or bride price, were decided.  People got married very early and grooms, whose marriage was delayed and those without regular income or assets and widowers, had to pay a bride price, which was known as “Kanya Sulkam” to marry.  Available brides were too young and so to have an adult partner, older men from Telugu speaking areas travelled down South and literally bought wives from Kerala and Tamil Nadu, where the gender ratio was different and also child marriage wasn’t prevalent.  

My uncle was a trendsetter of sorts.  My brothers and some of my cousins also refused to accept dowry. My uncle once even advised me to say “no” to dowry and also refuse to indulge in outdated rituals in wedding.  He died soon after I finished my studies.  I now think how proud he would have been to see an empowered “me” saying no to many things, average Indian women long for.

When my parents were looking for a “suitable boy” for me, we encountered several funny characters.

During our meeting sessions with the prospective grooms’ families, while the women folk were indulged in assessing my height, weight, behavior and attitude, the men, particularly the patriarch was busy making a valuation of our house and ascertaining 1/4^th of the share, I am likely to get.  My Dad was bombarded with questions like “what is the total area?; what is the buildup area?; what is the ongoing rate per sq.ft?” etc.  Many of our relatives suggested that, my parents declare to the world the approximate cost they intend spending on my wedding so as to attract good grooms. 

My Dad once went to Gudiwada, a small town in Andhra, to meet a prospective groom’s family.  The groom was working as a clerk in a quasi Government co-operative society and was living with his widowed mother in a dilapidated old tiled house built by his grandfather or his great grandfather, along with his many uncles and cousins in different portions.  His share of the undivided property was a medium sized room in which he and his mother lived.  During the meeting, the broker had told my Dad that the groom’s family was expecting a dowry of 2 lakhs.  That was too much money in the mid 90’s when a sovereign of gold was approximately Rs.4,500/-.  The ongoing dowry rate for a clerk was about Rs.30,000/-./-.(Yes the grooms are categorized based on their net worth, education, income, family background, appearance and responsibilities)  My Dad was very curious to find out why an average looking guy with a very poor background wants such a huge dowry.   He was shocked when the broker told him that the groom had bought a life insurance policy and has been paying premium regularly.  If by chance the groom dies after marriage, the sum assured anyway would go to his wife and so, he has decided to collect that money in advance from the bride’s father.  Yes. You read it right. He had the audacity to say this. My Dad decided not to take it further.

Consumerism has spread into all areas including marriage market and prospective grooms wait to commit to the bride’s family hoping to get a better bid. A family known to ours was looking for a bride for their grandson.  The guy was working in US and was planning to visit India for a month and his family released an advertisement and shortlisted 3 girls.  The parents could not decide on which of them was best and have told all the three families that a decision would be taken only after the groom lands and if the groom says "yes", within a short period they would have to arrange for a wedding and believe it or not, all three families agreed to this and even booked halls and paid advance to service providers for a tentative date given by the groom’s family.  The guy landed and selected a girl and married her.  I don’t how the other two girls and their families felt about the whole thing.  It is certainly beyond my comprehension.

Where is love and divinity in all these transactions? 

It is not just Telugu families that are crazy about these issues.

A few years ago, a colleague of mine returned from a tour, depressed.  When we asked him the reason, he replied that during his return journey, members of a marriage troupe were his co-passengers and though the groom was a school dropout, his new bride was given a dowry of 50 sovereigns of gold by her parents and though my colleague was a graduate, his in-laws had only gifted his wife 20 sovereigns and also burdened him with marriage expenses. His self-esteem was very badly affected with this comparison. I and some of my other colleagues tried to pacify him stating that educated women hardly wear gold and even if they, the husbands should not value their “self-worth” based on how much gold their wives hold, but failed miserably.  None of the men around were convinced.  They justified that gifting of gold was directly proportionate to their worth.

We had a housekeeping person from Kerala, whose annual income was less than a lakh. He said he was lucky that he had a son and his friends who were in a similar stratum and had daughters, had already saved nothing less than 100 sovereigns for each of the daughters.  I wonder what all people forego to buy so much.

Education, exposure and even technology couldn’t bring about a change in the mindset of our people.  Very unfortunate.

THE LADY DETECTIVE – NO, AN ANALYST

My friends call me a CID. They do so because I am instrumental in finding many of our classmates after decades.  They call me so because of systematic recording and retrieval of information in mind and my analytical skills.  They call me CID Sakuntala and my friend P.E.Uma coined a new name; “Charukuntala”.

I didn’t get opportunity to use my analytical skills officially, except during my brief Auditing and Administrative assignments.

Jigarthanda as per Wikipedia is a cold beverage that originated in the South Indian city of Madurai in Tamil Nadu.  It translates to "cool heart" in English.

I have read about this in a few newspapers and magazines, but none of them could substantiate the meaning.

With my “CID” brain, I have analysed it and would like to share it with you.

One of the main ingredients of Jigarthanda is Almond gum.  Gum is called “Jiguru” in Telugu. For several years from 16th Century onwards, Telugu rulers ruled Madurai. Many people including Muslims from the Telugu speaking areas migrated to the South during their reign.  They were the ones, who introduced this drink. A cold beverage using edible gum would have become Jigarthanda.

Unfortunately, we don’t have a sense of history and have failed miserably in chronicling it.  

P.S. Images courtesy – The internet

LIFE AT A CALL (CON) CENTRE

Last week I received a call at around 5.00 p.m. The caller identified himself as Rajendra Prasad, Asshishtant (Assistant) Manager from HO of the Bank and with a lot of excitement said that my account and debit card are blocked and he has called to help me reset it. I have read a lot about calls from persons from fake call centres of Banks, who try to transfer money from accounts of gullible customers.  This was the first time I experienced it. When I asked him from which Bank he was calling, he replied “Ishtate Bank” (State Bank). I coincidentally have an account with that Bank and I told him I would visit my branch the next day and sort out the issue. He then warned me; “today is the cutoff date for rectifying this problem.  Do you want your money or not?” sounding very unprofessional.  I again repeated that I would visit the branch and sort out the issue if any and then he disconnected.  My “true caller” app on the phone indicated the call as one from “Bihar”.

I shared this information with my family and friends and after a day, there was news in the newspapers about a retired banker being conned by someone from Noida to the tune of 3 Lakhs.  The conversation reported was similar to the one that caller had with me.  But the innocent senior citizen had revealed his debit card details with cvv number and also the OTP received on his mobile, to facilitate the person on the other end to get the amount transferred to his account, unknowingly.

Crime is as old as civilization.  What is alarming is the organized crime that is happening.

Earlier this month, around 500 employees of a call centre in Thane were arrested for duping US Citizens.

While the whole world sympathizes with the victims, I feel the employees at such call centres too are victims.

I have never worked in a call centre, but I have had a very bitter experience in my career, which has made me sympathize with these employees.

A few years ago, I briefly worked for an organization, whose business though was not unethical, but the management’s approach certainly was.  The organization had incurred a lot of losses and there were no funds for operations.  Many payments were outstanding and the pressure was mounting from all sides.  Employees were not paid regularly.  Salaries were paid once in a while, just enough to sustain.  Suppliers stopped supplies and all employees had to handle both their personal creditors and the respective official creditors too.  The top management was not reachable.  In addition to the usual work, every individual was forced to bring in new vendors viz., those in purchase department had to find new suppliers who would offer their products on credit, the finance team had to bring in more investments and credit, the HR team had to put a brave face and recruit people.  I had to find new travel agents, printers, hoteliers and service providers when the existing ones refused to serve unless their old dues were paid.  It was a very different game.  On one hand, we had to plead with the existing creditors and reply to them convincingly and on the other had to solicit new ones to associate with us, though we knew very well that we would not be able to pay them also in future.  Life was very tough and depressing.  The employees after a while stopped meeting the creditors, who visited the office.   Many seniors stopped using cars as creditors waited for them in the parking area too. But the creditors were intelligent too.  They waited at the lift, the staircase, the emergency exit (which we used most of the times) and also in the toilets.  The problem was multifold.  Personal reserves of all employees vanished.  Many pledged or sold their jewels and personal belongings.  They borrowed at heavy interest rates. There was no sense of security.  The future of the organization was very bleak.  There were not many openings in the job market.  Even if there was an opportunity, the organization didn’t let people to leave.  They were harassed and intimidated.    Almost all employees had school going children.  While all this was happening, a colleague got married and his wife and in-laws felt they were being conned, as he did not receive any salary after wedding.  They were very suspicious about him and there was marital discord.  It was very scary.  It was a nightmare and nobody could dream of a future.  Employees continued to work there for three main reasons; 1) the organization owed them several months’ salaries and were waiting to get the arrears to resign. (The employer too knew this and had no intention to pay) 2) they were too scared to leave knowing the employer’s harassment tactics and 3) they did not get any opportunities.   When one of the travel agent’s employees called me at an odd hour and threatened to commit suicide, if I didn’t take measures to clear her bills, I decided, I would quit irrespective of receipt of the pending salary and a new job.  I thought I would start something on my own, if I didn’t get a job.  I am lucky. With support from my family, I could get out and also find another job.

When I read about the news of arrest of call centre employees, I remembered my short stint in that place and could imagine the plight of all those employees who are stuck in such organizations.

Unless the Government is sincere about preventing crimes, such organizations would continue to function.  The entire Government machinery should work together in eliminating them; the Labour Inspectors, the Registrar of Companies, the Revenue and Income tax departments, the Police, the Judiciary, the bankers and last but not the least, the media.  They should stop turning a Nelson’s eye towards these organizations.

THE FIRST TIME I FELL IN LOVE

When I was studying LKG, my teachers took us on an excursion to the famous snake park.   No, please don’t jump into any conclusions.  I haven’t fallen in love with snakes. In fact I have Ophidiophobia.  I wondered why they took us there in a bus.  There were so many in our school and neighbourhood!

It wasn’t snakes, but the snacks our teachers distributed in small packs during our visit that day that I fell for.  Plastic covers were unheard of those days and the food was wrapped in butter paper.  The pack contained some food, as big as my palm.  It was orange in colour and due to the oil, the butter paper became all the more transparent and the beautiful design was visible.  I just fell for it.  I didn’t know what it was.  The colour, the spiral design and the aroma were very appealing.  From my childhood, I don’t relish sweets.  But that day, knowing fully well that it was some kind of sweet, I decided to taste it.  The taste too was heavenly.  I learnt from my friends, that it was called “jangri”. (It is called Imarti in North India). 

The excitement, the image and the taste remained with me ever after. 

I always wondered how it was made!  My mother too didn’t know what it was made of.  My parents never liked getting cooked or processed food from outside.  On a few occasions, when my dad’s friends gifted assorted sweets during festivals, I tasted the jangri alone. 

We had a huge grinder stone at home and many of our neighbours used it to grind batter from lentils and rice, whenever huge quantities were required and during one such occasion in a neighbour’s house, a cook came and manually ground the batter for making jangris.  That was the first time I learnt about the main ingredient.  Till then, I didn’t know what it was made of.  The cook used our grinding stone to grind batter from Urad Dal (Black gram). He did the grinding without adding any additional water to the soaked lentils. He did it pretty fast and he made huge balls with the batter and put them in a tub of water.  The batter balls floated and then once it was finely ground, he took them again out of the tub and after straining the water put them back on the stone and added food colour and mixed it thoroughly.  He did not add anything else to it. He took the batter with him to my neighbour’s house.  I was very curious to see him cook, but I didn’t dare to ask my mother to permit me to go and watch the work. 

From the day I saw the cook prepare the batter, I wanted to try to make jangris at home.  My mother was very strict (Oh she is still very strict) and didn’t allow me to experiment in the kitchen.  (In fact, I first cooked in my neighbour’s house. I boiled rice on firewood and made chutney with curry leaves).

Years passed and I continued to dream, dream to make jangris. 

After I started working, most of my colleagues came to know of my love for jangris.  Whenever they made and bought jangris at their homes, they shared it with me.  Two of my colleagues’ mothers made them very regularly at homes and they discussed the recipe with me.  Gathering a lot of courage, I declared to my mother that I would make jangris at home.  Though she didn’t like me doing it, she permitted.  It was for a Deepavali.  Most of the times, it rains heavily in Chennai during Deepavali and that particular year, there was a cyclone and many trees fell down and there was a power cut.  I had soaked the urad dal and waited for the power to resume, to grind it.  I wasn’t fortunate that day and had to manually grind it.  It was very tough and somehow I managed.  But the batter consistency was not up to the mark.  I took a piece of cloth, made a buttonhole and took the batter into the cloth and tried to squeeze it into the oil.  Oh my God! I just could not do it at all.  The batter was leaking from all sides and the batter that was squeezed into the oil was going out of shape and were no where near the size, shape and colour of the jangris.  I some home finished frying them and soaked them in sugar syrup.  My mother loves feeding us, more particularly my brothers and soon after they step into the house, she would appear with a plate of snacks every time.  On that day, my second brother came and as usual, she filled a plate with my jangris (I actually have to give them a new name) and handed it to him without mentioning what it was. He started eating them and asked, why I had added colour to garelu and soaked them in sugar syrup.  (Garelu is donut shaped snack made with urad dal. It is also known as Vada).  After that episode, my mother categorically told me that I should stop my experiments in her kitchen.

I refrained from that activity for a while, but the desire has always been bothering me.  Recently, a friend of mine had shared a video of making jangris on Facebook and it looked so simple.  Today, unannounced, I tried making it and it has come out reasonably well. It took more than four decades for me to try out something I wanted to successfully.  I am happy.  My mother too is happy.  Soon after I finished making them, my brother visited us with his friends and my mother enthusiastically offered them jangris.  Success!  They have eaten and have recognised them as jangris!

P.S.  Sorry for the deceptive title

NOT A CHILD’S PLAY

A few years ago, Anuja, my friend, attended a wedding in her extended family.  The bridegroom’s mother gifted to the bride a pair of dolls decked up in wedding attire instead of the usual dolls bought from the shop.  (As per Tamil Brahmin traditions, the bridegroom’s mother and sisters shower the bride with many gifts like dresses, accessories, cosmetics, jewels etc. on the day of the wedding and since till a few decades ago, child marriages were still prevalent, the gift hamper includes a few dolls and board games.) She was very much attracted to the “couple dolls” and requested me to make a pair for her to be displayed during Navaratri at her home.  I too promised.

When I and my sister were young, we had two dolls at home. We called them Remy and Shamy.  One had blonde hair.  My brother once soaked the blonde one in water, as a result of which, the hair was lost and the doll became bald.  As my sister was very upset, my brother, who too was quite young had stitched hair for the doll with black thread within a few days.  We stitched many clothes for both the dolls with leftover cloths. My mother stitched most of our clothes and our dolls too had frocks and skirts matching with our dresses. We tried making jewels also for them. We often performed wedding for the dolls. 

Coming to the present, ever since I promised to Anuja to gift her the dolls, I started searching for them.  When I was young, every fancy shop in T.Nagar had this kind of dolls.  But unfortunately, I could not find any.  I told my sister, my sister-in-law and all my friends to look for this kind of dolls.  After a long wait, my sister could get me a pair from either Bangalore or Mysore.  But, the quality is horrible.  Honestly, I was not impressed with the dolls.  I was very busy with life and I could not spend time on this work.  I have been seeing similar dolls on “hobby ideas group” on facebook and was getting great ideas for it.  So a week ago, I decided, I will use the same dolls and transform them into a “bride and groom”.

Since Anuja is an Iyengar, I decided, the dolls too would be Iyengars.  I googled to observe their way of dressing.  I saw videos on the net to learn to drape the sari and dhoti in Iyengar style.  My mother still stitches her clothes and so she always has pieces of extra cloth in all colours.  I initially thought, I will borrow some from her.  But suddenly I felt, using sari falls would be a good idea.  So I bought maroon and white colour sari falls.  I used the maroon for stitching the blouse and the sari and the white for the dhoti and the angavastram.  For the golden border in the sari, I used gold colour fabric paint.  Similarly, for the dhoti, I used green on one side and maroon on the other and painted gold over them.  Dhotis with green and maroon on either side are called “Mayilkan veshtis” in Tamil and are used in weddings.  Also, maroon is the most popular colour for “madisar” in weddings.

When I opened the dolls from the sealed transparent cover, I found that their clothes were either stapled or pinned.  Also, one doll’s head was covered with a scarf and the other with a turban.  When I removed the turban, I was shocked.  The doll was bald.  I recollected my brother stitching hair to our doll and thought I could do something similar.  Unfortunately, this doll is too small and also the head was not detachable.  So, I stuck black embroidery thread on the bald head of one of the dolls.  After the job was over, I saw there was gap between the threads and the scalp was very visible.  So I decided that this doll would be the bridegroom and cropped the hair. For the other doll, I first painted the scalp black and then stuck the threads and it looked natural.  I plaited the hair and also using the same thread made a tiny bun and affixed on the right.  It is called Andal Kondai. 

Jewels and accessories and make up: 

For poonal, I used thick white thread.

I made Thali (Mangalasutra) with a golden colour foam pad and thick yellow thread.

Golden beads for a chain and gold colour chamkis strung to gold colour thin metal rods to make a necklace and bangles. 

White chamkis used for making nethi chutti and rakodi made with foam pad, colour stone and chamkis. 

Floral plait made with paper flowers and stuck to a pad which is then tied to the hair.

I used nail polish for nalangu.

I made garlands with paper, but were not very attractive.  So used some shiny craft material (honestly I don’t know the name) and twisted them to look like garlands.

  

I have borrowed most of the craft material from my sister Vijayalakshmi and my nephew Atul. 

This is the most boring blog, I have written till date.  But I enjoyed making the dolls so much, I thought, I should document the process.