Jane's chocolate factory

Auroville, the international township near Pondicherry, is a special place for many reasons. One of the fascinating things about it is the many creative, ecological, and entrepreneurial projects that its residents bring into being. Here, you meet many people who have left their conventional lives and careers far behind, and have created a completely different life for themselves by contributing their skills, creativity and talents in new ways.

Auroville has a growing food scene based on authentic, artisanal products. The story of Jane's chocolate factory is not unusual for Auroville. This is the story of Jane, a lawyer from Australia who started an artisanal chocolate business in South India. I tell her story and explain her bean-to-bar chocolate-making process in an article I wrote for Chickpea, my favourite vegan magazine. You can read it here.

You can read some of my other published articles on India here.

After the storm

Driving down the East Coast Road from Chennai to Pondicherry, it wasn’t until I was 30 kilometres away that I started to notice the scars of the cyclone that hit on December 29^th. From the road I saw fallen trees, damaged houses, and palm trees leaning over at 90 degrees.

In the city the destruction was visible everywhere. Dead tree branches littered the sidewalks, many new stumps marked where trees used to be, compound walls and fences were broken, many roof tiles missing and thatched roofs completely gone. Bharathi Park was closed: many trees were uprooted and the paths obstructed with fallen branches.

In nearby Auroville, there was still no electricity or water supply in some parts two weeks after the storm. Electrical wires lay on the ground while the sounds of generators, chain saws and earth movers resonated in the air. It’s estimated that Auroville lost more than half of its trees. Many houses were damaged and the windmills which were used to harness wind energy were destroyed.

Having experienced violent storms in the past, many people told me that they knew a cyclone was on its way but underestimated its violence. It will take several more weeks to clear the debris and repair roofs, buildings and windmills. But apart from these reminders of the ferocity that was cyclone Thane, life seems to go on as usual with no damage to people’s spirits.

Pondy in the rain

I knew it was raining in Pondy. I was forewarned. So I took my raincoat and my most beat-up pair of sandals.

It didn’t rain. It poured. It was like someone suddenly turned on the power shower full blast.

I got stuck in the rain many times. The first time I was climbing the old Auroville Road on a rickety bicycle. A few large drops announced what was coming. Three guys in lungis riding ‘triple’ on a motorcycle quickly parked by the side of the road and ran for shelter under the parapet of a building in construction. I abandoned the bicycle and followed them. They stepped aside giving me some space under the parapet. The four of us watched the rain in an awed silence. Then one of them lit a cigarette and they had a discussion in Tamil. I understood ‘taani’ and ‘maale’. They were talking about the rain. Quickly, small red streams of water tainted by the dark red earth formed and ran down the slope. The man with the cigarette threw the butt into one of these mini-rivers and I watched it being swept away. After ten minutes the rain stopped almost as suddenly as it had began. I waded through the red mud back to the bicycle. The air was warm and pleasant.

The second time I was in Pondicherry at the INTACH office on Sri Aurobindo Street. The sound of the rain beating against the roof and the window was very loud. But I was comfortable and dry inside and was enjoying reading up on the city’s heritage conservation project and browsing through before and after pictures of the many heritage properties which have been lovingly restored. It was still raining when I had finished my research. I spent some time looking out the window. The rain was pouring in streams off the roofs. Once in a while a motorcycle or bicycle whizzed by. I observed how people protected themselves from the rain: raincoat and umbrellas of course, but also plastic bags rolled into improvised hats. On motorcycles the passenger seated behind the driver would hold up an umbrella, protecting both passengers. But it was raining too hard to not get wet. Quickly the street became a small river. A rubber flip-flop floated downstream. A woman in a soaked sari waded through the water, carrying her footwear in her hands. A motorcycle sped by and she cursed loudly as water sprayed out in all directions, soaking her further. It was showing no sign of letting up so I decided I had to brave the rain. I rolled up my pants up to my knees and was grateful I had decided against wearing a churidar that morning. I zipped up my raincoat and put on the hood. I took my sandals in my hand and stepped into the calf-deep water. It was warm.

The third time I got stuck was at the Subramania Bharathi museum. It is closed. Indefinitely. Reason unknown. This is the information I gleaned from three men taking shelter with their bicycles on the veranda. While sitting out the rain, I took a few pictures:

Pondicherry had a sweet smell. It was because of all the Canaga trees which were in bloom. Their Ylang Ylang flowers lay in wet, scented carpets.

So I admit it: yes, the rains are romantic! In Pondicherry anyway.

Auroville daze

The smell of flowers everywhere.
Waking to the sound of birds.
The bliss of riding through the red dusty roads on a bicycle.
Organic food, baguettes and croissants.
Where the sign at the State Bank of India also says: Banque de l'Etat de l'Inde.
Being randomly addressed in Russian and Italian!?
Peacocks at the doorstep!

Where else but in Auroville? It’s nice to be back.

Auroville: the macro view

The pink roads of Auroville...

The Matramandir: the spiritual centre of Auroville.

A view of Auroville beach.

Cooling off...!

For more glimpses of Auroville, I found this video on YouTube:

A micro view of Auroville

Classes have been interrupted by the summer holidays so I thought I would go somewhere and do something. My silence lately has been due to the fact that I'm in Auroville keeping busy with some volunteer work.

I took a train to Chennai Central. I know this 5-hour trip well by now. I was still on the train when I got a call from someone speaking hurried Tamil. 'English?' I asked. 'Taxi Pondicherry!' was the response. The taxi I had booked was waiting for me. 'White shirt. Entrance!', he told me before hanging up. When I stepped into the heat and humidity outside Chennai Central I was faced with many white shirts who all wanted my business. 'Taxi Madam?' 'Where do you want to go?' 'Mamallapuram?' 'Pondicherry?' 'Guesthouse, Madam?' 'Auto-rickshaw?' 'Where do you want to go?'

Soon I was in a white Ambassador hurtling past Marina Beach and then we were heading down the East Coast Road towards Pondicherry, with the breeze from the Bay of Bengal coming through the open windows. 3 hours later, after a stop for some coconut water, we took a right turn onto a road that headed towards Auroville. We passed a foreigner on a motorcycle wearing a blue turban and I thought this must be the right place. We passed many other foreigners on motorcycles with their children propped in front on the gas tank, Indian style, or clutching their parents' shoulders from behind.

Auroville is an interesting experiment in international living. It recently celebrated its 40th anniversary, commemorating the day when people from 124 nations mixed soil from each of their countries in a large urn by the banyan tree, giving birth to Auroville. Today 2000 people from 44 nations live here. The idea was to create a self-sustained eco-village. What's amazing is that this land was completely arid 40 years ago with no green cover. It was the pioneers of Auroville who had planted the many trees and shrubs which cover the township today.

It's nice to get away from the city for a while. On my bicycle I pass Tamil villages with women busy drawing water from wells, children playing ball, cows and goats wandering down the road, bullocks pulling a cart loaded down with hay. I'm in India. Then I pass a gate crowned with bougainvillea, with a sign that says 'Boulangerie'. Inside, I find croissants and pains au chocolat. I'm in Europe. Around me people are speaking French, Italian, German, Russian, Tamil... Where am I? Tea stalls rub shoulders with organic food shops. The residential communities are called 'Aspiration', Repos', Verité', 'Recueillement'. Everything closes at 5pm sharp. I'm in another world.

I'm posting a few pictures I've taken here but I realize they don't really reveal what Auroville looks like. That's why I'll call this a 'micro' view of Auroville. Hopefully I can post a more 'macro' view soon.