A spot of quiet

At Great Mount Resort

Great Mount Resort (GMR) is the sort of place that will make you fall in love with trees. Situated 11 km from Pollachi, along Meenkarai Road arched by branches of ancient trees, it is a weekend getaway hidden within coconut plantations. The driveway leads into seven acres offering cottages of varying luxury, two restaurants, an amphitheatre, recreational facilities and a wellness centre (in the making). I’m welcomed with pineapple juice and a rather sparse breakfast. But the view from The Palm Restaurant makes up for it. It overlooks a large pool that brims over into a pond, its calm waters rippled by a tall fountain.

Everything at GMR revolves around this pond. The spa opens into it, all cemented pathways lead to it, and all cottages, including my royal suite, have French windows with balconies leaning toward it. Each cottage, with its thatched roof and textured walls, stands on small landscaped mounds marked by two sets of stone steps. The higher one takes you to rooms with overhead views, and the lower one to rooms that open into tidy gardens with chairs carved from tree trunks.

There’s careful thought behind the interiors. In whites, creams and browns, the decor is gentle on the eye yet practical. Electronic safes, study tables, lounge sofas and mini bars are part of all rooms; switchboards are within stretching length, and beds are made to bounce on. And oh, check out the expansive oil painting above the bedpost.

For all its finery, GMR is still a resort in its teething phase. Open for guests from this January, its chief managers recently fell in place. Except during breakfast, orders arrive tailor-made, and room service is prompt, polite and helpful. The general ambience aids happy aimlessness. “Since the area is an industrial belt, it’s a good stopover for businessmen on tours. Its proximity to cities such as Pollachi, Coimbatore, Tirupur and Palakkad also makes it a quick holiday spot for city dwellers,” says Senthil Kumar S., resort manager.

For the adventurous, there are trips to Anamalai Tiger Reserve, Parambikulam Wildlife Sanctuary and the Grass Hills near Valparai. For the quieter sorts, there’s silence and a good view.

Name: Great Mount Resort Coco Lagoon

Address: Meenkarai Road, Vazhaikombu Nagoor Village, Pollachi. Phone: 04259-253405/505; website: www.greatmountresort.com

Tariff: Rates begin at Rs. 5,000 for a deluxe suite

We like:

The quiet, peaceful ambience

Efficient room service

We diss:

The incomplete spa and recreational area

Construction work on at the resort

August 9, 2013

(Written on request for the column “Stay and Tell” published in The Hindu’s Travel Pages. Disclaimer : I was at the resort on invitation. The story was filed when I was still in Coimbatore but published two months later.)

http://www.thehindu.com/features/metroplus/travel/a-spot-of-quiet/article5006790.ece

With strings attached

It is rare for a city to have an orchestra of just string instruments, but the Coimbatore String Ensemble completes 10 years with nation-wide concerts to its credit

Members of Coimbatore String Ensemble Photo: M. Periasamy. THE HINDU

The story of the Coimbatore String Ensemble (CSE) traverses three generations. It begins in the 1930s with three brothers — C.M. Jesudason, C. Solomon and C. Pagyanathan — all self-taught western classical musicians and music teachers. In their time, they were famous as the Classical Jazz Band and later as a larger troupe, the Immanuel String Band. The youngest of that group, violinist and pianist Sam Mathuranayagam, and director of the Coimbatore Men’s Chorus, Thambu Tharyan, got their students together to form an exclusive string ensemble: the CSE.

In August 2003, after six months of juggling work and music, with stolen rehearsals in a room behind the YMCA, CSE officially opened to Coimbatore’s audience. The concert was over an hour long with complex instrumental pieces including the magnificent Brandenburg Concertos by Bach. Today, CSE is a decade and several National concerts old — experienced enough to have placed Coimbatore firmly on the Indian map of western classical music.

The 2003 concert featured eight violinists, two violists and a guest cellist Cleophas Anthony, director of the Tirunelveli Chamber Orchestra. “Back then, we were bachelors in our college days so we spent all our free time getting better at music, despite being amateurs,” laughs Davis Eleazar. Motivated by the quality and competence CSE had, Cleophas pushed the group to perform with musicians from Delhi, Mumbai and Kolkata at a French opera staged with the Delhi Symphony Orchestra in 2005. “We had received the music earlier on and practised our parts here. We joined the professionals in Delhi just a few days before the concert. It boosted our confidence tremendously that we could match up to their standards,” says Faith Ragland.

Performance invites began coming in soon after, opportunities for collaboration opened up and in 2007, CSE completed a five-city tour with the Poona Musicale Choir. In 2012, they backed the Madras Musical Association and the Poona Musicale Choir, 165 voices in all, at the Museum theatre in Chennai. “Each new concert has helped us grow in some way. For instance, in Delhi we learnt the importance of having a concertmaster handle matters along with the conductor,” says John George who leads CSE now, with the assistance of others like Franklin Tony and Sujeev Das. All along, the ensemble played locally every year at the Christmas concert hosted by the YMCA choir headed by Joseph Kirubabalan. “We all held other jobs but we’d somehow meet once a week to practise together, and there’d be at least one performance each month,” says Joseph.

Playing with an ensemble requires a completely different skill set from being a soloist believes the group. It requires each performer to follow their section leader, stay alert to multiple musical motions simultaneously and tailor-make their personal playing styles to one group uniform. “I learnt so much just by watching the other group members says,” says Jeffri Joshua. “I was in school when I joined CSE two years ago, and everyone around me then thought engineering and medicine was the only future, but here, I found a group of people who took music as seriously as their regular professions,” says Andrea Iris, CSE’s youngest member.

The group’s older members though, believe fewer youngsters these days choose to learn string or wind instruments. “They’re temperamental instruments and they take time to get good at,” says Faith. Joseph adds that the advent of the electronic keyboard lowered incentive because at performances the keyboard can mimic all instruments thus discounting the musician. Even so, young pianist Lemuel Sujeev, has chosen to learn the cello to strengthen CSE’s instrument variety.

Like Lemuel, most of CSE’s members can lay their hands on multiple instruments with equal proficiency. “That’s because in their own churches or localities, they head smaller groups of musicians who meet regularly. So each member has learnt to set music for multiple instruments, harmonise and train each orchestral section to play its specific part,” says Sam. For John and Sujeev, the music goes beyond just a passion; it was what gave them their professions. The transport corporation recruited them to play for their orchestra.

But being a western classical musician is a tough choice in these times. Despite completing a decade in existence, CSE lacks sponsors for its events and still squeezes into each other’s drawing rooms for practice, for lack of an official rehearsal room. “Few cities in the country have the luxury of a full-fledged experienced string ensemble, so we’re glad to have been able to achieve that even as an amateur group,” says Faith. Adds Sujeev, “In the future, we want to keep playing just as much as we have in these last years. We hope more youngsters join us and together we can generate greater interest in classical music in Coimbatore.”

If you would like to know more about CSE, call 94430-16750, 99942-97350

June 07, 2013

http://www.thehindu.com/features/friday-review/music/with-strings-attached/article4787702.ece

Story behind the story

I first met CSE at the the Coimbatore Chamber Chorale’s rehearsal in late 2012. To imagine they’d been around for 10 years and not a word had been written of them in newsprint! I’d been sitting on the story for a while since then though, but when I knew I’d be leaving Coimbatore in a week’s time,  this was one story that had to be done. The first time I tried meeting the group, i got a call from the CMC Vellore ICU an hour before. The next thing I knew, I was on a bus headed there. So much for that. Returned some long days later with 72 hours left to uproot and relocate. In between shoving my life into cardboard boxes and writing thankyou/goodbye letters, I squeezed in an interview and two hours of writing time. I couldn’t be happier that my last interview in Coimbatore was in the open grounds of All Souls Church, with that warm chill blowing in the wind and some of the nicest people around for conversation. It’s everything I’ve known Coimbatore to be, and what I’ll always remember it by.

Together for green

Shaj Liberty Garden has brought its residents together for a common cause – raising trees

Trees grown by residents at a park in Shaj Liberty Garden. Photo: K.Ananthan THE HINDU

Shaj Liberty Garden in Edayarpalayam is the kind of housing colony picture books are made of. Homes sit pretty in neat rows and there’s not a street above which the trees don’t meet in a tight canopy. It’s the fruit of labour done 15 years ago when the colony’s promoter Mohd Ibrahim planted 130 trees, one at each plot, and marked the roadsides with avenue trees such as gulmohars. Down the years though, as more plots were occupied and new constructions arose, trees were cut down to make room for them. “We’d see an ancient tree today and tomorrow it would be gone — either chopped off or buried in a heap of sand and construction material,” says Hema Unni, a resident.

Three years ago, after a robbery which shook up the colony, the residents got together to clear the thorny brush which filled two common plots. “We wanted our colony to be such that houses could be seen clearly across crossroads, not hidden behind unruly growth,” says Balamathy Nehru. So for weeks every Sunday morning, the residents set out with aruvals and knives cutting through the mess with bare hands. “A JCB cleared the big growth but we had to pull out the smaller weeds physically,” says V. Srisathya.

Once done, they began planting 40 fruit and flowering saplings in the larger plot to develop a park for the area’s children. “Seeing our work, Ramya Nursery gifted us 50 more saplings, some of which we planted in the smaller plot. We also procured 100 neem saplings for free from the Mettupalayam Forest College and Research Institute. Organisations such as Siruthuli and RAAC gave us guidance and we began the project,” says Hema.

They were soon to discover however that while trees would root and spring up soon enough, man was sadistic enough to stall that growth. “It’s easier to raise a child, than grow a tree! Every time we’d plant, someone would come along and break off a branch or destroy it entirely,” says Srisathya. Water was hard to come by too. The area receives drinking water once a week and regular water once in 10 days. “So we’d fill up drums and carry the water to each plant in buckets every couple of days. In the beginning, we even used to buy water for the saplings,” says A. Viola. It takes over an hour of collective work each morning just watering, pruning, and hemming in the saplings in bamboo cases. The group also collects the previous day’s fallen leaves and piles them at the foot of each tree for it to turn into manure. For three years worth of work, the common plots now have fledgling trees, making cautious progress. In a few years, they should provide the shade and pleasure the fast-disappearing older trees now give.

The residents of Shaj Garden are also doing their bit for their private plots. Each home has at least two trees and several flowering potted plants and shrubs. A majority of these have come from the saplings Hema and Srisathya grow in their homes and distribute freely. Every spare inch of pedestrian space in Hema’s compound has a little plant sprouting in a plastic bag of soil. Between the two of them, they’ve gifted over 3,000 such saplings to NGOs in the city and residents in the colony. “Whatever fruit and vegetables we eat, we sow the seeds and they grow almost immediately. Practice will teach you the different care each plant requires,” says Hema. Their latest endeavour is a garbage segregation project which 10 families currently engage in.

Working with trees has changed them as people, says Srisathya. “We’ve learnt patience and perseverance, but when someone destroys a tree, it still feels like we’re being physically hit,” adds Hema. It’s also brought them together as a colony. “We’d have never gotten to know each other this well if it hadn’t been for the trees,” says Balamathy. But they believe that most importantly, they’ve learnt to work for society. That’s best exemplified in the mango and guava trees flourishing outside Veeran Kutty’s house. “It’s for anyone to pluck and enjoy,” he says.

June 1, 2013

http://www.thehindu.com/features/metroplus/together-for-green/article4769165.ece

The story was written as part of a weekly series the Coimbatore edition of MetroPlus has undertaken profiling the lung-spaces this city has. It is published every Saturday.

Mostly about books

Booklovers rejoice! An 8,000 square feet book shop makes its presence felt in the city

A wide range: At Sapna Book House. Photo: K. Ananthan THE HINDU

Somewhere in our lifetimes, we’ve all met one of them. That stranger who showed you the book you never knew you were interested in till you were; who dug out the first edition of a classic with worn edges and dog-eared pages; who found you just the right do-it-yourself book.

More often than not, they’ve been at bookshops — peering between rows of books for the one that fell in between and sneaking in quick sniffs of that fresh paper. You may find this kind at Sapna Book House in R.S. Puram. In an age where bookstores are glorified toy and stationery shops, here’s one that’s refreshingly, about books.

“I first saw a Sapna in Bangalore, where the chain began in 1967. It was later recognised as India’s largest book mall by Limca Book of Records. I wanted Coimbatore, being the educational hub that it is, to have one,” says V. Karthikeyan, chief executive of the Coimbatore branch, the first in Tamil Nadu. He found that students in the city often used old editions of reference books and study guides because the newest editions never reached the city. “Since Sapna is a large and established chain, publishers give us the latest. So you’ll find even the 2014 edition of some books here,” he says. Sapna’s patronage thus far has predominantly been colleges and schools looking for a wider range of study material, and they’ve returned pleased. Just the ‘Engineering’ section of the store takes a while to walk past. It has entire shelves devoted to ‘Mechanical’, ‘Electrical and electronic’, ‘Computers’ and ‘Civil’.

There are also well-stocked academic sections on language, history, biography and autobiography, self-help and religion, maps and geography. The collection on art is especially vast.

Books abound on the nature of different genres in art, life stories of renowned artists and of course, the how-to draw/paint/sculpt are a-plenty. The ‘Hobby’ section, just adjacent, has whole rows devoted to cooking, painting, gardening, food and wine, photography, home-decor, automobiles and music — replete with the teach-yourself-an-instrument instruction manuals. For sheer visual pleasure, do pull up a stool and unwind by at the extensive coffee table book section. There are gorgeous collections on the history of the Cholas, the changing landscapes of cities, photo essays on the Kumbh Mela sadhus and collector’s editions such as Raghu Rai’s The Indians: Portraits from My Album.

The literature and literary studies division opens with solemn volumes on the history of Indian literature and other such critical writing. It gives way to the less-daunting fiction and nonfiction segments with devoted space to Tamil literature and children’s fiction.

Sure, there are overflowing copies of the usual suspects — Chetan Bhagat, Agatha Christie, Dan Brown and Jeffrey Archer. But tucked away are slim paperback editions of gems such as Benyamin’s Goat Days and Jerry Pinto’s latest translation of Sachin Kundalkar’s Cobalt Blue. The ‘Classics’ category too leaves little to ask for with its complete collection from Plato down to T.S. Eliot.

There’s even the latest edition of The Great Gatsby with Leonardo DiCaprio’s eyes piercing through the cover. “We’ve had a few customers ask us for lesser known fiction titles. If we don’t have them just yet, we procure them in a few days and inform the customer,” says Karthikeyan. As for me, I found everything I went looking for and returned several bucks lighter but satisfied for having well indulged guilty pleasures.

May 31, 2013

www.thehindu.com/books/mostly-about-books/article4765988.ece

Intensely Chettinad

Park Plaza provides a spread steeped in the rich history of the Chettiars

Karaikudi- Chettinad food festival at 24/7 bytes Restaurant at Park Plaza. Photo: R. Rathish THE HINDU

Chettiar history is the stuff of magnificent travels. Beginning from when they migrated to Karaikudi eight centuries ago, to their later explorations for trade across South East Asia, their lives have gathered a colourful narrative.

These journeys were reflected in their distinctive architecture marked by opulent homes with global influences, as well as in their rich and intense cuisine. Nanjappa Babu, executive sous chef at Park Plaza, recreates some of that grandeur at the hotel’s Karaikudi Chettinad food festival.

His spread is primarily an attempt at clarifying misconceptions. “People believe Chettinad cuisine is just very spicy food. But it’s actually a complex blend of many well-balanced flavours. Chilli is just one of those ingredients,” says Babu.

A mouthful of the naattu kozhi biryani proves that. The flavours have seeped into meat cooked soft enough to fall off the bone and mix with the rice. The kozhi palakottai perattel (chicken with jackfruit seeds) and the poricha kaadai (deep-fried quail) further his expert juggling of spices.

Babu ups the chilli quotient though with the fish curry in tamarind base, made the day before for the spices to soak in. To close the non-vegetarian section, it’s all out hell-fire on your tongue with the deadly crab masala.

Babu also turns on its head the popular belief that Chettinad cooking is partial to the non-vegetarian. There are far more vegetarian offerings at this buffet and they showcase not just the variety of cooking possibilities but also Babu’s knack with experimentation. The Chettiars were calorie and nutrition conscious in their vegetarian fare, he explains, and that’s evident in the modest manga sadham, red cabbage poriyal and vegetable stew with appam. The restraint is also visible in the healthy salads with the karamani sundal and carrot kosumalli. Don’t skip the maanga vella pachadi here; it’s the classic, cold burst of raw mango flavour.

An absolute must-have in the vegetarian section is the saiva eeral puli kozhambhu – essentially a vegetarian reincarnation of liver curry made from moong dal which is ground and textured to resemble chicken liver. For a little more of the whacky, try the pakoda kuruma (fried pakodas in yellow gravy), pudhina noodles and the chaat-like chicken salad with papad pieces. To keep traditionalists happy, there’s the staple Chettinad vazhapoo vadai and vatha kozhambhu.

Dining at this festival is a little like being at a hectic Chettiar wedding minus the thronging crowd. There’s temple music blaring from the speakers, kolam at the doorsteps and portraits of deep corridors with Burma teak pillars on the walls.

The piping hot sakkarai pongal and aval payasam make the experience all the more real. There’s also the powdery goodness of thenga barfi, pori urundai held together with jaggery and the live counters making fresh boli and suiyam. It’s all a little too oily for good health but we’ve learnt counting calories at dessert sections is truly a punishable offense!

May 30, 2013

http://www.thehindu.com/features/metroplus/Food/intensely-chettinad/article4765810.ece

A paisa for your thoughts

R. Perumalsamy uses his love for collecting coins to generate awareness about the blind and their special needs

Creating information and awareness: Perumalsamy and his collection of coins Photo: K. Ananthan THE HINDU

R. Perumalsamy was 10 when his vision began failing. He was 14 when he dropped out of school for he couldn’t see the blackboard anymore. Almost completely blind, he spent his days labouring at home until he went for a 20-day course for the blind at Ramakrishna Hospital. It taught him the basics of managing without sight. Thus equipped, he began a small job in Ooty cleaning and arranging chairs for a company which worked for hotels. Often, international tourists at these hotels tipped him short change in their foreign currencies and so began Perumalsamy’s interest in coins.

Over the years he collected 100 coins from different nations, telling them apart by texture and size. It was in 1998, that a free operation, through Aravind Eye Hospital’s outreach programme, gave back Perumalsamy almost 90 per cent of his vision. “I returned the ID card which said I was blind, began working as a watchman with a private security firm and starting collecting coins in even more earnest,” he says. He began by hunting down commemorative coins issued by the Government. “It helped me learn the history of India and soon I had the entire collection from 1964 to 2012,” he says. He bought books that listed important coins, their history and value, and tried to collect according to the various coin series they described. Among many such, is his favoured collection of all the Rs. 1 coins released from 1948 to 2013.

It was in 2009 though that Perumalsamy first saw a coin specifically designed for the blind. To commemorate the 200th birth anniversary of Louis Braille, India had created a Rs 2. coin with his name embossed in raised dots. “I was so excited about this that I bought 300 of these Rs. 2 coins! I also bought the Rs. 100 coin which India made in 2009 with Braille’s face on it. I decided I must put together an exhibition that would tell people about the blind in India,” says Perumalsamy.

The exhibition is a short introduction to the Braille system of reading and writing. With 10 paise coins, Perumalsamy shaped the entire Braille alphabet and numbering system onto placards labelled with their English equivalents. “I want people to know that the blind can read and write and work just like everybody else. So I also introduce them to the various equipment that blind people use on a daily basis,” he says.

There are different models of the stylus and board used to imprint Braille letters, ranging from the oldest form which was large and wooden, to the latest pocket-sized version. There’s also a Tamil edition of Braille letters, Braille dice and geometry kit, and even a Braille chess board.

Perumalsamy has taken this exhibition to schools in Coimbatore along with a blind friend who shares his personal challenges. He says, “When parents discover that their children are blind, they stop sending them to school and make them work at home. I faced that and I don’t want other children to do so. When you educate and empower one blind person, he will go on to do the same for many others. That will create a better future for all.”

May 21, 2013

http://www.thehindu.com/features/metroplus/society/a-paisa-for-your-thoughts/article4736079.ece

Story behind the story

Finding Perumalsamy is proof that waiting pays. Sometime in August last year, I’d been assigned to cover a flower show for which I showed up even before the organisers did. So there I sat before a closed shutter, twiddling my thumbs, waiting for their highnesses to arrive when a security guard came up and said hello. We cribbed about how no one cared about deadlines these days, how hot Coimbatore was becoming and that you’d have to be pretty dumb to display Ooty flowers in this sweltering heat in a non-airconditioned room. Our conversation veered to his life story, how he became a guard and out came his tiny camera with photographs of his various exhibits. I took his number down, covered the flower show, went back to office, filed the story and lost Perumalsamy’s number somewhere in between. It showed up eight months later, shoved into the corner of some reporting notebook somewhere. And there’s what came of it 🙂

Making room for reading

Coimbatore’s District Central Library is a fine institution that makes available its vast resources to the common man

A haven for students, senior citizens and booklovers The District Central Library. Photo: M. Periasamy THE HINDU

“No place affords a more striking conviction of the vanity of human hopes than a public library — Samuel Johnson.”

So reads a wooden panel at the reception of Coimbatore’s District Central Library. Shrouded in silence but for fans turning, pages rustling and the occasional horn outside, the library is home to two lakh books spread across three floors. If Johnson were to pay a visit, it would be proof enough to him not just of the vanity of human hope, but its variety.

Just off the reception, the library opens into a cavernous room with a large placard right upfront saying ‘Reference’. Smaller placards follow, labelled ‘Literature’, ‘Fine Arts’, ‘Zoology’ and so forth. “When people ask us for any book, we’re able to locate it just by the subject it comes under. The library has 12 staff and we know the ordering inside out. There’s also a computerised catalogue which readers can access,” says V. Sudha, office assistant.

As we speak, other assistants proceed through a vigorous dusting of the shelves and books, after which they spend their day working under Rama Kumari who spearheads the classification of new books that arrive on recommendation from Chennai. “Every book that comes here is sorted, labelled and our library stamp placed on every 50 pages so that the mark will remain even if it is stolen,” she says. Over 2,000 books were recently sent from here to the newly-opened Anna Centenary Library.

At the centre of the ‘Reference’ room stands a long wooden table which ends at the ‘New Arrivals’ section. A few early-morning walkers with jogging shoes still on, examine the latest books. Others march straight into the next room, floodlit through large windows, where over 10 newspapers and 50 periodicals are displayed. “Some visitors come every day the minute we open and stay till late afternoon,” says Sudha.

The library has over 600 visitors each day, with the numbers rising on weekends. On weekdays, college students spend 10-12 hours at a stretch in the ‘Exam’ section on the first floor. It contains both periodicals and textbooks for those preparing for entrance examinations, particularly engineering, management and Government services. “I come here daily with my own study material and use the library’s resources for extra reference,” says T. Raja who will give his IAS tests soon. This section is especially dear to him because other aspirants attending coaching classes share their material with him at the library. “We recently added a discussion room here for those who prefer group study. Some visitors are even tutors, who come after work hours and teach CA students here,” says Sudha.

The exam section leads up to the lending library on the third floor. One room contains only Tamil literature and another largely English with two shelves for Hindi and Malayalam. The library has over 52,000 members who utilise this department with 200-plus books being lent every day for a fortnight each. “For World Book Day, we ran a special membership drive and over 1,000 people joined us last month,” says Sudha. “This is one of the few places where we find Hindi books so I come often,” says A. Hema who is pursuing an MA in the subject. The lending library also has a well-stocked children’s section, again divided into Tamil and English, with low-lying tables, small yellow chairs and stuffed toys. Avantika, for instance, spends her holidays reading here every morning. “When I have school, I come on weekends and borrow for the week ahead.”

From 1987, the library has served the public from its present home. Earlier, it was housed in Gandhi Memorial Library Building at VOC Park, and prior to that in Victoria Town Hall from 1952. Of its vast patronage, Sudha says, “There are people who come here and tear out chapters from the reference books. But for every one of those, there are so many others who value the resources, return books promptly and even courier them back to us across states it they’ve left Coimbatore.”

QUICK FACTS

Where Cowley Brown Road, opposite Forest College’s main entrance

Timings 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. (IAS Section: 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. )

Holidays Friday, Second Saturdays

Membership Fee Rs. 60

 

May 16, 2013

http://www.thehindu.com/features/metroplus/making-room-for-reading/article4717794.ece

Story behind the story

Let’s face it. I’ve an obsession with libraries. In the last year, this has been the third story on libraries (here and here) in Coimbatore and I couldn’t be happier doing them. 🙂

 

Going solo

Seven soloists from Chennai with four accompanists performed western classical fare from the 17th and 18th Centuries

Soloist Anupa Paul performing Photo: M. Periasamy THE HINDU

It was an evening where Handel, Schubert, Mozart and Rossini rolled off Coimbatoreans’ tongues as seven accomplished soloists from Chennai brought their classics alive. At ‘Arias and Art Songs’ a concert by The Residency and Coimbatore Art and Theatrical Society, the music flowed unhindered, Italian, French and German poetry found new meaning, and the age of European opera was rejuvenated.

As a quick introduction to the young talent showcased for the evening, each of the soloists first performed one song, accompanied by the piano. All the soloists held certificates or diplomas from The Trinity College, London or The Royal Schools of Music, London. Some of the pieces had helpful English translations projected alongside and others had short descriptions of the stories behind their creation. From F. Conti’s melodious ‘Quella Fiama’ about the flame of love that never dies, to Durante’s light-hearted ‘Danza Danza’ and G. Puccini’s hopeful declaration of love in ‘Nesum Dorma’, the repertoire provided a glance at the variety fare to follow.

Nadisha Thomas, a powerful soprano, opened the second half of the evening with ‘Per Pieta’, a piece almost entirely in the higher octaves, her voice seamlessly transitioning in and out of falsettos. She followed up with ‘Ich Trage’ and closed with J. Haydn’s ‘On Mighty Pens’ which had impossibly fast runs, accurately traipsed through. Sixteen-year-old Sithara Santwan followed with ‘O Mio Babbino Caro’, a sorry tale of a girl pleading with her father for permission to marry her lover, even threatening suicide. The young singer also rendered two Mozart compositions, the second his famous ‘Lacrimosa Requiem Mass’ — a eulogy which Sithara sang earnestly with clasped hands.

Mozart was invoked again as Anupa Paul sang ‘Voi Ave-te’. As much a performer as a singer, Anupa leaned into the audience, enticing them along the cheeky and confident phrases the song veered through. She concluded with ‘Holy City’, Stephen Adam’s rousing anthem in praise of a new Jerusalem.

The only male singer in the troupe, Ebenezer Arunkumar took the stage next with G.F. Handel’s ‘How Vain is Man’ — an interesting play between the vocalist’s notes and the piano’s antics. He then recreated Mozart’s beautifully built crescendos in ‘Don Giovanni — Il Meo’ and showed off his tenor voice with its natural vibrato in G. Rossini’s ‘Cujus Animam — Staabat Mater’.

In contrast came Shilvy Sharon, her wisp of a frame disguising her strong, husky soprano. She began with the sweet and gentle ‘Come Ever Smiling Liberty’ which expanded a few lines of poetry with new dimensions in each repeat. ‘Mein Herr Marquis’ showed another side to Shilvy with its comical and taunting sung bits of laughter.

Kavita Poornima was the classic opera singer of the troupe for her voice threw across the hall dominantly enough to not require amplification. With raised eyebrows, an expressive face and articulately shaped lyrics, she sang from operas by Bizet and Rossinni accompanied by a full symphony playing on a pre-recorded track.

Roshni Sharon Raj, pianist, guitarist and singer with the Madras Musical Association, concluded the soloists’ section singing the soft and soothing ‘From Mighty Kings’ followed by a piece from Mozart’s most popular but almost-censored opera ‘Figaro’. To close an evening where each soloist painted in their individual singing styles, there couldn’t have been a better ending than Handel’s ‘See the Conq’ring Hero Comes’ where they blended together as one, led by Augustine Paul. The curtains came down as the voices chorused ‘Sound the trumpet; Beat the drum’.

May 6, 2013

http://www.thehindu.com/features/friday-review/music/going-solo/article4689252.ece

The religion of children

Former Assistant Secretary-General of the United Nations Kul Gautam says interfaith collaboration can work wonders for uplifting the lives of children.

Kul Chandra Gautam, Former Assistant Secretary-General, United Nations in Coimbatore,Tamil Nadu, on Friday. Photo: K.Ananthan THE HINDU

Kul Gautam is Chair of the Council of the World Day of Prayer and Action for Children (DPAC). He was formerly Deputy Executive Director of UNICEF. In Coimbatore with DPAC’s council to participate in Shanti Ashram’s Interfaith Round Table 2013, Kul shares his thoughts on the role religious organisations can play to help children.

What is the World Day of Prayer and Action for Children and what inspired its model?

November 20 is Universal Children’s Day and everybody celebrates it differently — doctors through health initiative and teachers through schools — but many religious organisations wanted to know how exactly they could contribute. Since all religions prioritise prayer, we suggested that they spend the day in prayer for children and take those prayers forward through action. That’s how, in 2009 after a meeting in Hiroshima, November 20 also became the DPAC.

Religious organisations can initiate much change because they influence society’s behaviour. For instance, in the 90s, Latin America, despite being a middle-income region, had lower child immunisation rates than many poor nations. While the Ministries of Health acknowledged the problem, they said they didn’t have medical personnel to cover every place. That’s when the UNICEF suggested immunising children through churches because Catholicism was powerful in Latin America. Every single village, however far-flung, had a church whose pastor the village respected. Immunisation could be done by them with just basic training. We soon saw rates rise very fast. So partnering with religious organisations does work.

In India, where conflict between religious communities has often been an undeniable part of our history, how do you see this approach panning out?

This model is especially appropriate for multi-religious, multi-cultural societies like India because it encourages interfaith cooperation to overcome misunderstanding and unjustified hatred.

While religious communities may argue on issues of politics and theology, they can come together for the cause of children, because at its core every religion wants the best for its children. There are superficial and misinterpreted teachings from religious texts which are used to exploit children by keeping them from schools, marrying them young, etc. But it takes a diamond to cut another diamond. So for every one of these misinterpretations, progressive religious leaders can show the positive, enlightened path that highlights the well-being of children.

What are DPAC’s key focus areas in India and how does partnering work on the ground?

In India, we realised that while education and health for children were being addressed, movements against violence towards children needed working on. Reports of girls being sexually molested and exploited, child abuse at home and in schools, child marriages and child labour were common. On the ground, DPAC has a triumvirate partnership between religious organisations, secular bodies such as UNICEF and Save the children Fund, and sometimes local governments too because while they pass good laws, implementation can be helped by others. In India, we’ve partnered with the Ramakrishna Mission Vivekananda University in West Bengal and Shanti Ashram in Tamil Nadu to work for emphasis on positive parenting. Discipline can be implemented without violence, and through love. We also focus on making children aware that India is a signatory to the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child, and that therefore they can demand their rights. But those come with responsibilities which they must fulfil too.

Nepal is your country of birth and upbringing, and you’ve spearheaded the Rollback Violence Campaign (RVC) there. What are the similarities you find between India and Nepal in the challenges that face children?

Nepal and India have similar traditions, history, culture and religion. Even in politics, you have had a Maoist/Naxalite Movement, as have we. And while its goals were to achieve justice for people, violence was an accepted means. That’s where the RVC stepped in and upheld Gandhi’s principle of non-violent means towards justice. Just as in India, DPAC in Nepal works against child marriage by partnering with religious organisations. Traditions such as these have been ingrained for centuries and justified by religion. Priests conduct these marriages! So we need to work against it from within the religious framework.

How have your years with the UN influenced the vision that DPAC has?

Parallel to the 2002 UN General Assembly Special Session for Children, there was a meeting of the world’s top religious leaders who pledged to support the summit’s commitment to ‘A World Fit for Children’. So DPAC’s vision was sown then. I was also instrumental in drafting many of the summit’s goals towards child survival which we continue to strive for today. Having worked with UNICEF for 35 years, I’m a child of the UN and my philosophy of life is influenced by the UN, so I know its many positives. But as an insider, I also know its shortcomings which we now try to overcome.

April 6, 2013

http://www.thehindu.com/features/metroplus/the-religion-of-children/article4688772.ece

Story behind the story

Coimbatore is not exactly the place where the high and mighty are traipsing through with 15 minutes squeezed into their mad schedules for journalists. This was the first time I’d gotten to interview such a high-profile person and the last thing he was was high and mighty, and he had way more than 15 minutes for me. What an amazing person to meet; what a vast, global perspective he had and what a pleasure it was to listen to his voice of reason.

Second-hand sandhai

N.H. Road comes alive every Sunday with hagglers, bargain hunters and compulsive buyers as they go shopping for second-hand electronic goods

Pieces from the past at the sandhai. Photos: M. Periasamy THE HINDU

Every Sunday for nine years now, Shahul Ameen arrives at 8 a.m. on N.H. Road with cardboard boxes too full to tape shut. He spreads a tarpaulin sheet by the pavement outside a shuttered shop, hoists two poles on the road, throws another tarpaulin sheet over them and settles down in this makeshift shanty to unpack his wares. Out come worn DVD players, Japanese headphones, mobile phone covers, chargers, ancient tape recorders, rusted sound mixers, dismantled mixies and second-hand CDs. Along the length of N.H. Road, others like Shahul slowly begin setting up the Sunday-only sandhai of second-hand electrical and electronics goods. With his products now neatly ordered and his morning chai downed, Shahul plonks cross-legged on a cane charpai, almost to say, “Let the haggling begin.”

“1,500!” says Babu. “800,” says the customer. “1,300!” snaps Babu. “1,000,” begs the customer. They meet at Rs. 1,100 and the customer walks off with a massive set of boombox speakers, its cloth covering bearing tell-tale holes. “People come here from all over Coimbatore every Sunday because there are at least 20 stalls to choose almost anything electronic from,” says Babu, who’s been a part of the sandhai for five years. While most other sellers stay on till 8 p.m. when the market officially closes, Babu packs up once he’s made a decent sale. Babu spends his week going house to house in colonies across Coimbatore buying old electronic goods by weight. “Sometimes we buy from kabadi-wallas as well,” he says. Shahul finds his wares through similar methods but frequents exchange melas across the city and outside as well.

Unlike these two, Babu, owner of an electronics service unit just off N.H. Road sells at the sandhai the leftovers from his centre. “I have products which are too old to be fixed, so I bring them here and mechanics and other electricians buy them for the spare parts,” he says. Another hot product is mobile phones and their accessories, both new and second-hand. “Many sellers have small cellphone outlets elsewhere. When they accumulate models which are no longer manufactured or sold by mobile brands, they bring them here and sell it for half-price without guarantee cards,” explains Shahul. “They get rid of their stock and we get mobiles that work,” says Shashidharan, a regular customer at the sandhai for the last five years.

It’s a hit-and-miss affair with products here, adds Shashidharan. He once bought a second-hand remote that claimed to work on any television set but didn’t do so. His spoil for today is a clock backlit by fluorescent lights shining through water with floating plastic fish in it. Through the years he’s frequented the sandhai, Shashidharan says he’s seen it expand to include stalls that sell more than just electronics. Some electronic stalls now stock new film DVDs and music CDs; others have cardboard boxes full of old cassettes with Tamil songs and well-used VCD tapes. Those like Pandian have set up stalls selling rubber chappals for Rs. 20, feeding off the sandhai’s constant crowd. “Through the week we sell at Race Course and we bring the excess here on Sundays,” he says. He is accompanied by a chat-walla, mosambi-juice seller and others peddling clothes.

The sandhai gets most of its footfall thanks to the buses that stop on N.H. Road and make their way to the heart of Town Hall. “Each of us gets 90 to 100 customers and altogether at least a 1,000 people come through each Sunday,” says Shahul. Each stall usually has a huge crowd milling around it, few among them buying though, most just looking to replicate the bargains others make. Eavesdrop on a few conversations and you’ll hear a fair smattering of Hindi, for many migrant labourers from North India come to the sandhai for second-hand products that could make their short stay here more comfortable. Besides those buying, there are those looking to sell old goods too. As we speak, a man offers Shahul a walkman from the 90s. “Not interested,” says Shahul pointing to the walkmans he’s already got to sell. As others stand in the unforgiving heat, peering over Shahul’s wares, he gets himself a lime juice to last him through the second half of this sandhai Sunday.

April 30, 2013

http://www.thehindu.com/features/metroplus/secondhand-sandhai/article4670481.ece

This article was written as part of a fortnightly series The Hindu MetroPlus Coimbatore has undertaken profiling the weekly local markets in the city. The earlier pieces in the series can be found here and here

Story behind the story

The last eleven months have been a conscious, continuous exercise in conquering fear. This Sandhai stands right where Coimbatore’s bomb blasts took place and the Hindu-Muslim conflicts have still not eased. In fact, the first time I tried to do this story, the sandhai had completely disappeared, for conflict had arisen again near Ukkadam. All but for Shahul’s stall though. He’d been coming here for too long to be forced to stay away by people’s misunderstandings. I returned the next Sunday and things were in full flow but I was still afraid for I was the only woman in the vicinity and no one appeared particularly friendly. When in fear, walk hard. So I did..across the entire market a couple of times over till Babu asked me what I wanted. We got talking and my fears eased. One down, talking to the second Babu came easier. By the time I reached Shahul, I’d forgotten that I was scared to begin with. After a good chat, he sat me down by the pavement and ran away to get me chai. He came back with lime juice and soon enough, Shashidharan came by to listen in on our conversation. Clearly my broken Tamil had given me away for his first question was, “Malayali?”  “You bet,” I replied. And thus was born another friend in Town Hall. By the time I leave this city, there’ll be a long list of people to thank for sharing their time and stories with me.