BLOG 3 First day of Pongal

Awake at six thirty to hear ghastly racket of Tamil singing and tinny music over a loud-speaker. Pongal has begun. Actually, Wendy tells me, that racket was audible at 4 this morning. Again so glad I inherited the sleeping gene as around here every effort is made to prevent folk from getting a night’s kip, what with roaring trains at all hours, deafening crows and howling dogs, before you even begin to take into account pillows of ancient rigid foam. Oh and mosquitos, cicadas and at least one dripping tap. I sound like an adult version of the children’s picture book ‘ Peace at last’
Anyway, today is Pongal, so we are bidden to visit Sekar’s home in Nagal for ritual stuffing of the English villagers. Since Selvi has lent us some pans and plates we can now have porridge for breakfast- oh joy, oh bliss. Not sure I ever will fancy rice and curry first thing in the morning. Imms rings us to say that ‘the rickshaw fellows are ready’, - Sekar has arranged it for us it seems. There is a worrying moment when it appears that the chap believes he really can push all five of us into one auto-rickshaw. Even post –Cambridge diet this is never going to be a goer. Then his fellow driver turns up and five into two will go, so off we putter with the usual racing between the two drivers, games of chicken on the wrong side of the road whilst over-loaded lorries bear down upon us.
Sekar is waiting for us with his baby granddaughter Bala in his arms. She is about 5 months old and a really perky little girl, full of interest in everything and very smiley. As usual we are invited to sit in the room inside which has one very large bed in it and a couple of chairs. Sekar stays with us whilst his wife and two daughters prepare food for us. We start with sweetened grain which I mistake for Pongal rice but is called kesari. Then we have payasam, which is sweetened vermicelli in a milky drink, with ‘woray’ ie lentil burgers- an odd combination I think, but ok. Then comes the sweetened Pongal rice and then a pause in the face-stuffing. We play pass the baby and coo a lot at Bala. Meanwhile Sekar is telling us all sorts of very interesting things about how life has changed in India recently. Encouraged by a government ( Tamil Nadu) grant of Rs 20.000 to girls if they pass matriculation at tenth standard, many families, even poor ones, have delayed marrying their daughters. Girls – as in England- are now out-performing boys in school. There are also attendant problems with more divorce and women expecting more of their men! Oh dear, what a Pandora’s Box it is to educate women!! They also have problems with more people feeding their families fast food, and with subsequent obesity. And they now have to have programmes to teach young mothers nursery rhymes as they are being forgotten. Sekar tells us about a programme they had in one local district which was Unicef funded, to encourage participation by fathers in the upbringing of children. It appears to have had considerable impact.
Forth then for a walk to the coconut plantation which was planted in Daleep’s time as Director of RUHSA, and used for some years as a training area for the work on agricultural development. This entails a walk through what Wendy christens Shit Avenue. I am at first mercifully oblivious of the use the entire village appears to put this lane to, until Pam draws our attention to it. I am torn between wanting not to look and fearing the consequences if I don’t. And then Pam sets up with a running commentary about what she is observing. I tell her I had no idea she was the Dr Gillian Mc Keith of our party and that if she will not shut up I will put her on my blog tonight. Aaaargh. The coconut grove is lovely and peaceful and there is an ambitious canal building project right nearby. We peer down a disused well and feel extremely poorly. Ooh-er. And more ooh-er when Wendy says she wouldn’t at all mind skipping down those open steps.
On the return trip down what Andy calls Cack Row, Sekar tells us that there are government grants to encourage people to put indoor sanitation in their houses but still many people ‘will not avail’. Too right I think. Back to Sekar’s house for seconds out, round two of the stuffing contest. Delicious green bean curry and other such.
Sekar calls us the auto rickshaws then and we make our way home. I sit under a tree and am able to access emails and post second blog, whilst a granny with a baby sits very close and – I suspect- is importuning me for money. I show her the picture of my son and his son which is my desktop and am able to tell her who they are in my small-small Tamil. Later back at the flat I discover that enough time has elapsed for some of our party to think they could face more food, so off we go to Paul’s, taking with us some of the bag of lemons Selvi gave us yesterday. Our luck is in! Paul is prepared to make us dosi, which serve us as pancakes, great to finish off a Pongal day of feasting, with lemon and sugar. East meets west, modern versus ancient, the mass of contrasts and contradictions in Indian life seem to have increased and become more pronounced in recent years. I suppose that technology has rushed India through the twentieth century and into the twenty-first, but some aspects and people and places remain almost untouched by the revolution.