This morning. 7am. City Market.

A morning with the dhobis

When we got a washing machine our neighbours asked why we didn’t get the household help to wash our clothes – or send them to the dhobi (washerman). While many households do have washing machines, some still use the services of the dhobi.

Dhobis used to go from door to door with a donkey, collecting dirty laundry from their customers and rolling it up in a huge bundle. With the donkey’s help, the bundle would then be carried to the nearest dhobi ghat. Here the clothes would be washed and ironed before being returned to their owners one or two days later.

Yesterday morning, with a few people from my photography class, I visited one of these dhobi ghats. Every neighbourhood has one. These open-air laundries have rows of sinks with stone slabs and long lines of clothing stretched on clotheslines to dry in the sun.

The dhobis were leaning over their sinks where they soaked the clothes, rubbed them with bars of soap, scrubbed them with a brush, and then whacked the laundry loudly against the stone slabs. Many were making a whistling sound as they slapped the clothes on the stone.

Considered to be a man's job, there were very few women here: only two or three.

This is very physical and tiring work. This may be a trade which is dying out but the dhobis seemed to have a lot of work. I noticed quite a few silk saris lying around, and telltale dry cleaning tags hanging from some hung up to dry – which makes me suspect that the dhobis get a lot of business from the city’s dry cleaners…

Ravi starts his work day at 5am and finishes by 1pm. He works every day, Sunday included. "Don't you have any time off?" I asked him. "I take a day off once in a while if I need to," was his reply.

At 9am, the chai wallah arrived. The dhobis took a short break. Just the time to drink their cup of tea.

Then it was back to work!

Bears being bears

As the jeep passed through the gates of the enclosure we were met by a whole gang of black sloth bears. They knew it was snack time. They bounded up to the jeep, following it. More and more bears appeared out of the forest and raced each other towards the jeep. It stopped suddenly and the two men in the back jumped out and distributed the morning snack: watermelons. I expected the bears to bite into the melons to get to the fruit inside but they used their long claws instead to claw open the fruit. In seconds they gobbled up the red juicy flesh leaving behind only the rinds.

As we drove along through the enclosure more bears happily bounced up to the jeep and each got a watermelon as a treat. Dr Arun told us their names. “This is Raju. He is very naughty!” Raju stood on his hind legs as if to get a better look into the vehicle to see who the visitors were.

I was at the Bear Rescue Centre at Bannerghatta National Park on the outskirts of Bangalore. This is the home to 90 sloth bears. Here the bears spend their days exploring the forest, playing on the swings and platforms specially built for them, hunting for the treats the bear keepers hide in the trees, sleeping and generally living a bear’s life. But these bears did not always live so carefree. The 90 bears at the rescue centre spent the first part of their lives working as dancing bears.

Dancing bears used to be a common sight in India, especially in popular tourist centres. As cubs the bears would be trained to dance and perform tricks. But first their canines would be smashed with hammers (that’s why they couldn’t bite into the watermelons!) and their muzzles would be pierced with a hot iron so that a rope could be passed through the hole. The life of a dancing bear was one of slavery and misery.

Dr Arun and his team of vets show us around the centre. There are a few holding cells for bears who are sick or under treatment. In one of the cells, Shankar sways back and forth from side to side. The vet explains that this is typical behaviour in caged animals. Shankar was locked up in a small cage for years. His owner had lost the key. He’s having a hard time readjusting to a life of freedom. He’s afraid of the other bears and can’t keep down food. The vets are trying different treatments to try to help him recover.

Bear kitchen schedule

Bear dancing is being eradicated thanks to organisations like Wildlife SOS, who run this bear rescue centre and three others across India. Their approach is not only to rescue and rehabilitate the bears but also provide assistance to their former owners. The Kalandar community have been making a living thanks to these bears for generations. When they agree to surrender their bears they get 50,000 rupees in compensation. They also receive training in a new trade and education is provided to their children.

Some of the members of the Kalandar community work at the rescue centre as bear keepers. We asked them how their families make a living. Many now work in agriculture, tailoring, handicrafts or have opened small shops. Their children have been able to access higher education. Two are studying engineering.

Bear food (not the cat)

What was touching was the affection that the vets and the bear keepers obviously have for the bears. They told us about their different personalities and the antics they get up to. I had never wanted to go to Banngerghatta National Park because I had only heard about the miserable zoo and the dreary safaris on tourist buses. But the Bear Rescue Centre was an inspiring place. No longer forced to dance or perform tricks for a few rupees, here the bears can finally be bears!

Dr Arun with two other vets and a volunteer

Photos courtesy of Anuj and Susmitha.

Monsoon romance

I noticed that Indians rarely talk about the weather… Not like they do in places like London or Brussels where this topic opens every conversation. This is usually a complaint about the rain. Here rain is very common and as a result, rainy weather is considered to be bad weather.

But everything is relative and on the other side of the world things are often reversed. I noticed that Indians only talk about the weather when it’s ‘good’. And here ‘good weather’ means rainy weather. Lately I’ve been hearing: “Pleasant weather we’re having!” on a daily basis. Cloudy skies and intermittent rain is not the idea of good weather I grew up with, but then again, everything is relative. After the four months of excessive heat we had from February to the end of May, I’m definitely not complaining about the cooler temperatures and sporadic showers. It’s nice to put the prickly heat powder away for a while and not rely on the ceiling fan to try to keep cool.

In India, the monsoon seems to be everyone’s favourite season. It’s also considered to be a very ‘romantic’ time. Again, rain is not high up on my list of most romantic things. Actually it doesn’t make the list at all. But judging by all the poems, songs and movie scenes dedicated to it, rain is very sexy in India.

Ask any Indian when’s the best time to travel to a certain place or city and they will inevitably answer: “During the monsoon.” Check any guidebook to India about the best time to visit and you’ll see that the period from June to September is not recommended and even strongly discouraged.

Indeed very few tourists come to India during the monsoon. But I have to agree that this is a great time to travel to India. First of all because they are few tourists. And as a result fewer crowds and more availability on buses and trains and at hotels. Banana pancakes disappear from menus and hotel rates become normal again.

Then there’s the beautiful lush green landscapes. The cool nights and freshness of early morning. The laughter of children playing in the rain. And that marvellous smell of fresh earth afterwards… Ah the romance of it all!

Channapatna toy village

If you've ever taken the road leading to Mysore from Bangalore, you would have probably noticed some roadside shops at some point along the way selling colourful wooden toys and rocking horses like the ones in the picture above. This means you were passing through Channapatna, the 'toy village'. I took a trip there last weekend and visited a toy-making factory where artisans continue this age-old handicraft tradition.

These colourful lacware toys are popular with tourists as well as parents who prefer natural, non-toxic toys for their children rather than the more common plastic ones. There are about 2500 artisans in Channapatna working in this handicraft industry which was in danger of dying out before being revived a few years ago.

Above the artisan's head is a small mirror. I noticed each 'work station' had one and asked what it was for. Someone explained that they use a mirror to help get bits of wood out of the eye... With wood flying everywhere I'm surprised they don't use protective glasses.

The colours are made with natural vegetable dyes like indigo for blue, turmeric for yellow, katakata for brown and annatto seeds for red. These are melted with lac and made into lac sticks. These coloured sticks are used to dye the wood once it has been sanded. While the wood turns on the lathe, the stick is pressed against it and the colour is transfered to the surface.

The artisans make traditional toys which have stood the test of time as well as newer designs which have been introduced more recently. A string with a little wooden ball is tied to the end of this toy. The game is to try to catch the ball into the receptacle!

This is an example of one of the older toys which used to be produced here. This piece is more than 40 years old is what the artisan explained to me.

I enjoyed capturing some of the details of the artisans' workspace. Here are some of the tools they use.

Piles of wood everywhere!

The wood used to make these toys is called Hale wood.

The floor of the workshop is covered in sawdust, bits of wood and splinters but work is worship so the artisans remove their footwear before entering their workspace.

Shiva and Parvati covered in sawdust and supervising operations.

Another corner of the workshop.

Some order in the chaos.

Waiting for the next tea break.

Use your head

Carrying things on your head seems like the natural thing to do in India. The fruit seller walks through the neighbour with a big bag on his head yelling “Mosambi!”. At railway stations, red-shirted porters easily negotiate the crowds while balancing several bags piled on top of their heads. In villages, straight-backed women with colourful water pots tottering on their heads make their way home from the well. Then there are the numerous city construction sites where you can see women effortlessly carrying plateloads of cement on their heads.

Recently I was reading about Bangalore’s city market area in the paper. There was an interesting feature on ‘carriers’ or ‘runners’ who ‘run for a living’, carrying huge bags of fruits and vegetables. There are about 400 men who make a living in this way at the wholesale fruit and vegetable market.

The article featured Muniswamy, a ‘runner’ from Tamil Nadu. He gets up every day at 3am and heads to the wholesale market in Kalasipalyam. His job is to deliver huge sacks of fruits and vegetables to the nearby KR market. To do his job, he needs to use his head. He carries loads weighing up to 60kg on his head, and sets off towards KR market at a quick, measured pace. He makes eight trips a day, taking short breaks in-between. Each trip takes him 15 minutes and he makes 20 rupees each way (0.35EUR/0.44CAD/0.43USD).

The people who hire these human carriers say that they are cheaper than using trucks or auto-rickshaws and that this transportation method results in less damage to the fruits and vegetables.

This seems like a tough job for someone who needs to use his head to make a living.

Tuesday holiday

The first day of June is an important day in South India. Traditionally it’s the first day of school after the two-month summer break. June 1st is also the day when the south-west monsoon is expected to set in over Kerala, bringing cool air and relief from the stifling heat as it travels northwards over much of the country.

This year the monsoon didn’t start on June 1st, and neither did school. The monsoon arrived in Kerala on May 31st: one day early. Schools however, opened one day late, on June 2nd.

While the monsoon’s arrival is affected by weather conditions and pressure systems, the first day of school was subject this year to the influence of the stars and planets.

Why did schools open one day later than usual? Because June 1st 2010 was a Tuesday. Tuesday is not considered to be an auspicious day in India. Tuesdays are associated with the planet Mars which is believed to have a negative influence. So Tuesday is not a good day to start new things, like a school year.

It’s also considered a bad day to get your hair cut. Some barber shops close on Tuesdays because they get few customers. If you’re not superstitious this could be the best day to get a haircut: you won’t have to wait! But if you’re not happy with the result the barber can say it’s not his fault; blame it on the stars!

I did a bit of web research on Vedic astrology and discovered that there are a host of other things you should or should not do according to the day of the week:

Sunday:
DO initiate discussions and negotiations with government officials.
DO eat mung dhal.
DON’T engage in commercial activities.
DON’T move into a new house.
DON’T do any strenuous activity or argue.

Monday:
DO move into a new house.
DO make marital arrangements.
DO go to the doctor.
DO engage in betting and sports-related activities.
DO wear white.

Wednesday:
DO engage in any activity requiring your intellectual faculties.
DO take an early morning journey.
DO plant trees.
DO wear green clothes.
DO eat beans.
DO NOT cause problems at work.
DO NOT start new ventures.

Thursday:
DO try to find anything you lost.
DO start new ventures or studies.
DO visit temples.
DO eat papaya.
DO NOT travel.

Friday:
DO buy a new car, jewellery or a new house.
DO start medical treatment.
DO start charitable work.
DO travel.

Saturday:
DO attempt to solve legal problems.
DO buy food staples or horses.
DO dig wells.
BONUS: Any work initiated in the morning carries a high possibility of success!