by Aline Dobbie
CHAPTER
TWO
Tikli Bottom
We were up very early the next morning feeling refreshed and ready for the day. The whole household was bustling with young Yash dashing everywhere and insinuating herself into all the activity. Martin and Annie own the most beautiful house a little out of town called Tikli Bottom. Four years ago, they completed the building of a gracious new Lutyens’s style bungalow, which has now matured into a most elegant and comfortable home. Tikli Bottom is a fusion of east and west with large well proportioned public rooms and four bedroom suites all opening on to a veranda and courtyard. The entrance portico stands exactly opposite the big archway in the far side of the house so one is able to see the temptation of an elegant pool in green lawns and the vista spreading beyond. Every bit of the house has been designed and built with great attention to detail. Martin has a perfectionist’s eye for detail and Annie has a wonderful way with décor. Martin wanted the house to be like the old colonial bungalows that, of course, I grew up in and know to be cool in the great heat of the summer months. The ceilings are high and there are usually at least four skylights right at the top of the walls where they meet the flat roof, so that the hot air as it rises can be dispelled. There is no air conditioning deliberately but in the colossal heat of the Haryana summer one is able to ascend to the roof by a wide staircase and sleep on the roof on charpoys, a simple but comfortable Indian style bed, which, instead of springs or wooden slats, has an interwoven rope base on wooden legs, that makes for a very comfortable bed underneath the stars in the cool of the night – realistically under a mosquito net for obvious protection!
Tikli Bottom – A most gracious home
The courtyard has a charming fountain and pool adding that luxurious and practical touch of tinkling water that also helps to challenge the heat. Annie compliments Martin with all her little touches and thoughtful detail. Each bedroom suite has everything one could wish for in a five star establishment, except air conditioning and television. There are four gracious large bedrooms each with their dressing room and en suite full bathroom. Every room has a lovely view and of course being built in a large square no two have the same view. Weary travellers who have arrived to stay chez Howard at the beginning of a trip to India, or indeed at the end would find complete relaxation. There is a full household of servants, who are mainly Nepalese, and the management of the house is excellent with lovely food. People sit round the dining table or on the terrace and eat with Martin and Annie. Martin collects and delivers people to the international and domestic airports which are not far away.
Graham and I were enchanted. Tikli Bottom was not complete when we were last in Delhi but now sitting on the terrace of this serene country house, with its immense style, is sublime. The silence and tranquillity of the garden with its acacia trees, bougainvilleas, hibiscus, bauhinia, oleanders and other glories, and the charming half moon pool forming a serene focus with a backdrop of the Aravalli hills, all to the gentle sound of birdsong, immediately set my memory into action recalling similar beauty spots of my past. Again, one is reminded that India can appear frenetic to the newcomer but, given an opportunity to visit in the country, one can soon lose the sounds and cacophony of the multitudes and choking traffic.
Inside the house there was a great deal of activity preparing for a luncheon party under the capable direction of the housekeeper and cook, Muna and Gokal. One is again reminded how in India by maintaining such a property one can also sustain several retainers who all have their allotted responsibilities and work. The Howards have a small farm with buffalo, crops, and fruit trees including mangoes, papayas, and oranges. There is an ambition to branch out into keeping geese, but they are very vulnerable to the local jackal population however careful one is – realistically all the jackals may not have four legs!
They have also planted about 1000 teak trees all over the place. Martin reckons that, at least, he will rest in a better coffin as a result of his efforts! Hopefully, the land may soon be considered a plantation, which has wider implications for the future benefit of the local villagers.
Graham was taken on a tour of the whole place by Mahendra, who helps Martin administer the farm. Mahendra is charming and friendly and communicated in soft, slightly halting, or possibly carefully considered, English. Bolaram, an ex mali who had worked for Martin previously, joined them. Bolaram is so typical of a straightforward hardworking Indian who takes pride in his occupation – being a gardener. He was very proud of having worked for the British High Commission in his time, and now his ambition is to purchase some property which he will be able to leave to his family. He and I had talked in the jeep driving from Delhi. Our conversation ranged through my broken Hindi and his halting English, but we soon understood and appreciated each other. Fundamentally, we are both mature parents and have a great desire to see our various offspring happy and secure – the aspirations of parents the world over. Gardening was the second topic of conversation and then a careful polite exploration of my background and Indian credentials.
Martin is justifiably very proud of what he has achieved at Tikli. There are five buffalo, one of which was a recently acquired bull, which resulted in a even more recently born calf, and then all the females were pregnant. Buffalo apparently do not show the season of their breeding cycle easily and previous attempts at artificial insemination had not been successful. All the beasts were in excellent condition being fed on a mix of chopped wheat straw and alfalfa type lucerne sweetened by the croppings from the sugar cane.
Segregated from the buffalo were the cow and her two calves. This is no ordinary cow, being a cross between a buffalo and a Holstein. Thus, they all had the typical Holstein black and white markings and looked very familiar but with short tiny buffalo horns. Both the offspring were themselves pregnant. Typical of thoughtful Martin he had introduced a new feeding and management regime for the calves, which ensured they were allowed to suckle from day one after birth in the morning, but in the evening the milk is taken for human consumption in the household or sold. The results are larger and healthier calves which matched in size at one year those of two years of age but reared under the traditional harsh methods.
The papaya trees are planted in a two/three year rotation and in between were lime – nimbu – guava and mango. There was also an acre or so of sugar cane and several acres of gladioli. These bulbs cost one rupee each and, as several thousand are required, Martin grows on the little bulbs produced by the parent plant after flowering and, a year later, he has thousands of bulbs at a cost effective price. Gladioli are a supreme favourite of Indians and you will see bunches of them for sale at street vendors let alone in the established flower markets. He thinks everything out most carefully to see if his theories translate into practical farming or horticulture before he passes on his ideas to the local villagers where everything must be totally cost effective.
The beautiful and peaceful pool at Tikli Bottom
Martin is full of ideas and the local villagers of Tikli are so fortunate in having this pair living in their midst with their genuine and unpatronising determination to contribute to rural life not just for their own benefit but for all. Interestingly, in discussions, we heard how inevitably there are those locals who would attempt to exploit or feed on what they see as a benevolent outsider, but the local sarpanch – the village head man has great authority and is not wet behind the ears about some of his countrymen’s less attractive attempts to make a ‘quick buck’.
There is an ancient saying from the Parayana Vathugatha, “Wisdom makes light of the darkness of ignorance”. No-one is claiming, least of all me, that Indian villagers are ignorant, but all of us know that a pooling of knowledge contributes to a communal richness. Previous generations of my own family made their own contributions to their communities in India, now here is a satisfying example of coexistence between races in an ancient land in the twenty first century.
The luncheon party was excellent with a skilful mix of interesting people: ambassad
ors, high commissioners, authors and media personalities plus a number of charming guests who all had their respective talents when one talked and communicated. Many of the guests had brought their little children, who were immediately taken off by Yash to play and be amused in different ways. Annie had arranged for the jadu wallah, the local magician, to come and give us all a show of his excellent slight of hand. He brought with him the obligatory cobras with a mongoose. He seemed to be slightly amazed at our western anxiety for the mongoose and did not have a perception of the fact that generally we do not find animal exploitation attractive these days. Certainly the mongoose was a healthy agile little beast and the two cobras were what cobras always are – elegant serpents who performed their habitual ‘party piece’ and then slid noiselessly, and I suspect thankfully, back into their hessian sack! Anne Wright, Martin and Annie’s charming neighbour, who owns a wonderful stud, bought the mongoose to let it free.
As ever, there was a wonderfully eclectic mix of people eating delicious food in elegant surroundings. I was struck again at the way Indian society discusses a broad spectrum of subjects vigorously which makes for very worthwhile conversations, such as I had with a remarkable and charming clairvoyant, whom I found amazing. Shuba has a serious day job but has this interesting and accurate talent which she can put into effect at her own wish. She kindly chose to focus on me and was astonishingly accurate about my life, yet we had never met previously and she could not have known anything about me. I hope we meet again some day. She yearns to visit Scotland and I have urged her to be our guest. Barbara and Rob Hepworth, who have worked with the World Bank in various developing countries, are another interesting couple with whom one had an immediate rapport. Then, there was Raju, who is a talented yoga teacher, and so many others. I always find something very special about meeting strangers in a convivial atmosphere in a different land. Somehow one dispenses with all the superficial nonsense and finds topics of mutual interest and value. Occasionally, one meets someone silly and shallow, but that is the beauty of a large function – one can, with grace, just move on.
In the late afternoon sunshine, Graham and Annie and Yash and Raju swam. The rest of us, remaining quietly on the terrace, drank some tea and chatted and just absorbed the tranquillity. I asked where Bolaram had gone as I knew he would like to see the photographs I had brought of our developed garden. Everyone was interested, Bolaram wondering how we managed the whole thing by ourselves, to which the response was we work hard and are passionate about what we have created – an oasis of Scottish tranquillity.
The Indian dusk arrived suddenly and we all piled back into the jeeps for the return journey to Delhi. Mahendra was coming with us to help him on his way to his own village to celebrate Diwali the following day. He and I talked quietly in the back of the vehicle. He had first learnt English at the age of eleven, but, as no-one else in the family spoke it, he found it difficult to practise the language, nevertheless he spoke well once he relaxed, and our conversation roamed over India’s strengths and challenges as a food producer – he was trained in agriculture. He has a gentle humour and made the point that British people say thank you 10,000 times a day but Indians do not. They only actually say thank you for really important things – so, in his opinion, an Indian thank you is heartfelt. I had never really thought of it that way. In our society, we have a culture of acknowledging someone or something by saying thank you but India has other ways of being respectful that are not catered for in our language. It made me more aware of the whole business of courtesy for the following month of my travels, but I still consider it a good thing to show gratitude by saying thank you in either English or Hindi. However, thereafter, I watched more carefully for the response and realised sometimes how surprised some were, i.e., people who serve and are taken for granted by the large majority.
Back in Delhi, Yash could not wait to put on her Diwali attire; she looked adorable in a sort of burgundy outfit of chiffon salwar chameeze with sparkling shoes. We adults duly changed and set off for yet another sparkling party, this time at the gracious home of Kamal and Anita Meattle. They have a son called Saumya who is charming and the same age as our youngest son Stewart. Both our sons Hamish and Stewart work in information technology at a specialised level as does Saumya, so he and I found all sorts of topics of mutual interest. Their huge garden was festooned with twinkling lights, streamers of marigolds hanging down from the branches of trees, and candles; the mellow background music was a contrast to the ever rising noise of animated party chatter. Bearers, with trays of drinks, pressed amazing cocktail eats on the guests and this was followed by a delicious buffet dinner. This was Delhi en fete, truly as I remembered Diwali just exactly forty years ago! It seemed that the whole diplomatic community had been invited and had come – but with the obvious absence of the American ambassador. Our own British High Commissioner, Sir Rob Young, and his talented wife Catherine, who was also launching a book, were there. I spotted the Belgians, the Mexicans, the Austrians, who had been at Tikli, and the Finnish and Irish who we had seen earlier as well. It was an excellent evening rounded off with some delicious masala chai, which was welcome as the dew was falling quite heavily towards the end of the evening.
Martin decided to do a quick chukka, i.e., tour, round the gracious monuments and buildings of Delhi which are well lit. India Gate looks particularly fine these days with some sensible improvements to its lighting arrangements. Everywhere we drove however I noticed pretty heavy security. The tragedy of terrorism has left its mark widely in India but of course the increased security is reassuring to the visitor. It was interesting, however, to be peremptorily stopped on a main road and required to wait, for what? Yes, as ever, a politician making his way, presumably from a Diwali party, to his home. I counted the number of vehicles in his entourage; there were five. It was not someone important like the President of India or the Prime Minister, just one of the many ministers, but India has this curious capacity to puff up even the most insignificant of her politicians, which to western eyes seems foolish and so shallow and unworthy of this great democracy.
Martin was becoming impatient and Annie chided him to be careful – none of us wanted an officious policeman interfering with our return home.
Again, bed was a most welcome retreat after such a full day of pleasurable activity.
CHAPTER
THREE
Happy Diwali
Hinduism someone once said is ‘a museum of religions’. No other religious tradition is so eclectic, so diversified in its theoretical premises as well as its practical expressions. It is the only major religion that has not been traced to a specific founder.
In India, mythology has always been very close to the actual life of the people. There are hundreds of myths about gods, goddesses, heroes, sages, demons, and natural phenomena like the sun and the moon, lakes, rivers, mountains, trees, flowers and animals. These myths are absorbed and remembered by the people even if they have no formal education. They are kept alive by fairs and festivals, and the daily round of religious ritual, during which myths are celebrated in folk songs, folk plays and dances. In classical Indian music too, mythology provides the main subjects.
Vishnu is, in the belief of his particular followers, the highest of the gods. When he is asleep, the universe is in a state of dissolution. When he wakes up, the universe evolves. The cycle continues. Periodically, however, Vishnu descends to earth to protect truth and virtue and to destroy evil. His earlier avatars (descents) were in animal forms. In his seventh, eighth and ninth incarnations or descents, Vishnu appeared as Rama, Krishna and the Buddha, respectively. Vishnu’s wife is Lakshmi, the goddess of prosperity.
It is important to note that the personality and teachings of the Buddha have illuminated the lives of millions in Asia, but it was in India that the light was first kindled. The Buddha was born in India, and he lived and died there. His philosophy and teachings should be seen in the light of his Indian heritage. A thousand years after his death he was a
ccepted as another incarnation of Vishnu, one of the three highest gods in the Hindu pantheon.
Diwali or Dipawali (literally a row of lights) is celebrated 20 days after the Dussera festival. Dussera is, essentially, the commemoration of the victory of the warrior-goddess Durga who has other names confusingly such as Sati, Parvati and Kali; she is also thought of as Devi, or Mahadevi – great goddess – the consort of Shiva, who is himself one of the three great principal gods, together with Vishnu and Brahma, the trimurthi or supreme trio in the Hindu belief. She had won a huge victory after a 10 day battle against the buffalo- demon Mahishasura and she is worshipped together with Rama – a god king – an incarnation of Vishnu, who had won an epic battle over Ravana, the ten- headed king of Lanka, who had abducted Rama’s wife, Sita. Rama and Sita are in popular terms the ideal heavenly couple, to which ordinary mortals may aspire. Dussera lasts for ten days, culminating in an evening spectacle commemorating Rama’s victory symbolising the triumph of good over evil in his ten-day battle against Ravana. On the nine previous evenings, the epic story the Ramalila has been narrated or presented in some form of drama, and the climax is on the tenth night when colourful effigies of Ravana, complete with curling moustaches, and princely ornaments, his son and his brother are burnt, setting off a fusillade of fireworks and, thus, goodwill again prevails for another year!
Continuing the story of Rama (Vishnu in an incarnation you may remember!), Diwali commemorates the hero-king’s return from voluntary exile. Twinkling oil lamps, divas, replaced latterly by candles, or even electric bulbs, light up every home, symbolising the lifting of spiritual darkness. Fireworks explode, there is great rejoicing and the ritual focuses on the worship of Lakshmi (wife of Vishnu, who is the goddess of wealth and prosperity) of whom Sita (who was rescued) was an incarnation! Diwali is the beginning of the new financial year and is particularly significant for traders and businessmen. Old books are closed, new accounts opened, and there is a general emphasis on a fresh beginning. Lakshmi also symbolises purity and cleanliness and homes are cleaned and freshened to ensure her favour. Women, be they in the North or the South are renowned for their artistic skills in decorating the walls and doors and entrances of their homes. Diwali is the most important festival at which they paint the ground in front of the entrances. These drawings are meant to draw Lakshmi’s attention and she, being the goddess of wealth, likes drawings of certain themes in certain colours that praise her. Very often, there is a simple and a quick mixing of white paste made from ground rice and water which is used to draw elephants and other designs on the walls and rangolis on the ground. The rangolis can be done with coloured powders or with flowers. It is a time of family gathering and fellowship with a warm welcome to visitors. Good food, particularly sweets, mitthai, are consumed in large quantities and the whole of India settles down to celebrate and enjoy the festivity. Indeed, on our flight, which was fully booked, it was obvious that a great many of our fellow passengers, from the evidence of their hand luggage, were returning to spend Diwali with their respective families. For us it was so special to be with Martin and Annie, and to participate in the rituals in their household, plus of course be warmly welcomed at the various parties.
