We have been fortunate to be invited to live at a small ashram in the jungle of Coorg – the late Sri Swami Nayananaranda's Math in Coorg. A “math” (pronounced “matha”) is an old Indian expression for a school.
It is a place which is not normally open to the public.
The main house which we are staying in. It was built 41 years ago, in 1963.
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Our host, Biddu. 66 years old.
Biddu grew up in this village, had a career in the army which took him all over India, and now has settled here permanently.
He has a vast knowledge about how to use the many trees, flowers, fruits, roots and leaves in the area (and so many other things!), he is a skilled farmer, a hunter, a wonderful cook in the Indian cuisine, coffee-enthusiast, plays beautifully on the bamboo flute. Generous, hospitable, considerate, understanding, thoughtful, incredibly patient, and fun. In short, and in my opinion: truly a great man – out of this country of Ghandi.
Or like the advertisement said: “A fine type. A fine coffee. Both are Indian.”
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Biddu teaches me how to make chapatis. |
The place where Sri Swami Nayananaranda (1902–1988) used to sit and write. |
Sunday, December 26, 2004
When we are picked up at the busstation in Coorg we are met by Biddu and Durga – a Danish woman who has been visiting this area on a yearly basis during the past 11 years, and therefore is able to give us an excellent introduction to the customs, family names and networks, as well as the history of the area.
On the first night, were are invited out to Biddu's brother, Raju, who lives in the neightbouring house. Biddu's 93-year old mother who has given birth to nine children was very happy to see us and was singing for us.
Monday, December 27, 2004
What a wonderful evening. We were invited out to Biddu's younger brother, Arjuna, for dinner. A nice little family with mum, dad and two sons in the age of 11 and 13 who live in the village approximately two-three kilometers away. Biddu drove us there in his jeep.
It turns out we are invited on the occation of Satchin's 13-year birthday, and on arrival, candle lights on the birthday-cake are lit, and we are all given a piece of it – it is stuffed into our mouths by the happy birthday-boy as we are still standing in the doorway. (No way to refuse, even for an anti-sugar-freak like me). Then we sing “Happy Birthday” for him.
The boys are playing with Biddu's mobile phone, calling the landline-phone from a nearby hill where the net can be reached. Satchin's mother is enjoying watching them.
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Soon after, we are seated in the “reception room” where we are served a plate of nice – and very hot! – barbeque chicken, a little bottle of whisky (supposedly “honey”), and a bottle of beer... The beer and the whisky are supposed to be mixed, we learn. Actually not a bad combination!
The honey lifts things up, no way to deny that. In my case, I haven't had alcohol for more than a month – so: one glass, and “boum!”.
At 9:30, chicken and rice nuddle supper is served in the dining room – so hot that I am sweating and hardly able to talk – with nose and tears running.
After dinner, and rice dessert, Biddu starts dancing, Padma stands on her head, and things get incredibly amusing. What a fun birthday party!
We are somewhat nervous about Biddu's driving us back home, but... he insists that he can do it. And he does bring us back safely, though driving the whole stretch without light on the car, and too fast for our liking.
This evening was a very special experience for me that I will never forget. Watching the mother – thinking of Deb – and the father – thinking of myself – some 10 years from now... – and these two intelligent, beautiful sons, so full of life, humour, vitality. Beautiful! To me, at this point I am at, I find it truly inspiring and heartwarming to experience the essence of “family life” like that.
posted by Mik Aidt on Dec 28 at 07:54
Simply heavenly to be sitting at this porch, surrounded by the beautiful sounds of the rainforest, watching the fullmoon rise, while typing letters to the friends at home. Only one hinch about the letter project: There is no internet here, not even close. No mobile net either, so email and sms is out of the question while we are here.
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Biddu fetches a bucket of water at the well. |
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Padma carries it to the kitchen. |
Where honey is made. |
Tuesday afternoon – off for a walk in the rain forest. |
Biddu brings his gun along because there are wild elephants and tigers in the forest. In this part of India there is a very old warrior-tradition, and it is the only region of the country where people have a special dispensation (stemming from British times) allowing them to carry a gun. We see many traces of the elephants along the way. |
posted by Mik Aidt on Dec 28 at 18:50
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Monday night, the news reach us that Sunday morning a huge tsunami flood from an earthquake hit the shores of India. 500 people dead in Pondicherry – where we were sitting on the beach just four days earlier.
The next evening, we go over to a neightbouring house to watch the news on tv. But as we do not understand the local language, they explain us only a little of the sad news. But the few pictures look tragic!
Wednesday morning we go to town in order to link up with people at home, and now we begin to realise the extent of the catastrophe. In the mailbox there are already lots of emails and sms'es from Denmark and Australia: “Are you ok?”, “Is there life?”
“Well, yep, we are more than okay!,” I reply. We are so far away from everything here – in our own little secluded paradise-world of singing birds, pleasant and sunny weather, healthy food, walks in nature, and so on. In the light of the tsunami wave which is on the tv news constantly all over the world, it apparently appears to our friends and family in Denmark to be rather irresponsible of us to be so ignorant of the extent of the catastrophe that we haven't instantly rushed to a town to let them know we are okay, the minute that we heard about it.
I don't think they realise what it means to be staying somewhere where there is no tv, no radio, no newspaper, no telephone, no mobile, no sms, and no internet. Hey! We are not connected here. Is that now all of sudden such a crime? It took us until Tuesday night before we realised that this particular earthquake was different than so many other earthquakes that happen here and there. Every DAY there is an earthquake somewhere on this planet.
India is the size of Europe. When an earthquake happens in Italy, should that cause panic in Denmark, and stop people from travelling to Denmark all of a sudden? Should the Italian catastrophe make every Dane rush to their telephones in order to ensure their relatives that they are okay and that the earthquake didn't hit Denmark?
No? Why not? Because of the distance between Italy and Denmark?
I don't think our family and friends realise the geography and the distances of India. An Eastern coastline is hit by a tsunami wave, but that doesn't mean that all of India is suddenly to be declared “catastrophe zone”.
I feel urged to go back to Chennai and Pondicherry with my camera to report from the catastrophe zones there. But I refrain from doing it, knowing the responsibilities I have ahead of me. I honestly feel it is unfair and a wrong judgement that we are now all of a sudden to be labeled as being “irresponsible” or “ignorant” or “lost to the world”.
Just like the Danes go on celebrating their New Year with parties, dancing and drinking, I also believe I can allow myself to be enjoying my stay in this heavenly spot here for a little while. Tsunami or no tsunami.
One of the worst catastrophes ever, according to Indian newspapers. The 9.0 magnitude earthquake that unleashed deadly tidal waves over India and many other parts of Asia was so powerful it made the earth wobble on its axis and permanently altered the regional map, according to US geophysicists. Small islands may have moved as much as 20 metres. More than five million people are affected by the tsunami catastrophe, and hundreds of thousands of people have been killed by the gigantic waves. |
Chennai's beach, an hour after the wave had hit. |
Two photographs from an India magazine which shows what the wave actually looked like, in Indonesia. It didn't state the names of the photographers. |
A nightmare! |
We didn't hear or see any of all this up in the mountains of Coorg.
On New Year's day we went for a jungle picnic... |
...with stunning views (difficult to pass on the experience by showing a photograph). |
Fresh papayas in the garden... |
...and pineapples in the backyard. |
And bananas, ready to be cut down. Everything we eat here is not only home made, it is also home grown, and organic.
Papaya, pineapple, coffee, pepper... It all grows on the hills right outside the house. |
Coffee. Also soon ready to pick... |
Drying the coffee beans. |
Between the coffee trees grows the pepper. |
Afternoon at a water fall nearby |
posted by Mik Aidt on Dec 29 at 19:14
New Year's puja (pronounced “pu-dja”) in the morning on January 1. |
Offerings to Ganesha. |
Morning coffee with the temple family. |
posted by Mik Aidt on Jan 1, 2005, at 11:11
Biddu's family, gathered for New Year's. His 93-year old mother is in the front in the middle. |
The new family tractor. |
posted by Mik Aidt on Jan 01 at 14:12
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