A Playreading Group for Children, at Jagriti in Bangalore

Via e-mail:

 

This is open to children who would like to keep in touch with plays and drama. There will be one session at week—on Saturday at 4 pm—for three months. Through this time, the group will read plays, watch plays and meet with directors, actors and designers to understand the workings of a dramatic text.

This is not a class, where a syllabus is followed and a trainer is teaching. The course will be extremely rewarding for children interested in drama, and who will motivate themselves to work and bring something to the group.

To register for the program, do write to edu@jagrititheatre.com with the following details:

1. Name

2. Age

3. Name of school

4. Any previous theatre training - if yes, duration of course(s) attended

5. A few lines on why you want to take up the course

Please Note:

The programme will start on January 12, but children are welcome to join any time

There is no fee

The upper limit is 20 children, after which registrations will close

After School Care in Bangalore

I know day care is a big concern in Bangalore for those families in which both parents work and who don't have family there. A quick post to tell you about a new after school care center called Spectrum (via Sue). Here's their blurb and address:

Spectrum is an After School Care Centre where children nurtured through holistic development, leaving parents worry free to concentrate on their careers. Spectrum also has an Activity Centre and provision for academic support.

Location:
#213, 9th Main, HRBR Layout, Bangalore, India, 560043
Phone:
+919886320707

I don't have any personal experience with this center. I'm just passing this information on for those who are interested. Needless to say, please investigate the center and their services and make sure you are comfortable with them before signing up.

The Bangle Shop

Long, long ago, in villages and towns across India, the 'bangle man' roamed the streets. A cloth knapsack slung on his shoulders, he called out his wares - glass bangles in resplendent colors, some plain, some decorated with gold or silver paint - and made the rounds of his beat perhaps once a month, but more frequently during the marriage or festival seasons.

Inside the knapsack - fashioned out of a large cotton cloth whose four ends were knotted together - the bangles would be strung on long jute strings tied up at the ends to make a garland of the bangles. Many such colorful garlands nestled together in the knapsack.

The soles of his feet cracked from walking miles and miles on dry, dusty roads in worn out sandals or in bare feet, his head wrapped in a towel to ward off the heat of the sun, his teeth stained from years of chewing tobacco, the one-man, walking, talking bangle shop was a welcome sight nonetheless, his sing-song call a cause for great excitement especially if you'd been waiting for a delivery.

Women-folk (like my mom-in-law's mother, for example) hardly ever left the house, even to go to the market. They got their vegetables and grains from their farm and nearly everything else was home-delivered, including saris. Each family would have their favorite street hawker, one who knew the family's needs and would make special trips to his suppliers make sure he had what his customers needed. The same for bangles.

Most homes had a porch, screened with mesh or metal bars, where the bangle man and the women-folk would settle down to pore over the bangles, trying them on for size, flipping their wrists back and forth to check out the feel of the bangles, the clinking sounds providing a rhythm to their conversations. It was more than likely that neighbors would gather together on one porch, saving the bangle man from having to pack and unpack his knapsack over and over.

An old home with a screened porch
This little interlude was a welcome break for the women from their household chores and a welcome respite for the bangle man, a chance to rest his aching feet and take the load off his shoulders.

I wish I had a photo of one for myself and to show you because these days, the bangle man is a dead breed, especially in cities and the larger towns. Although street hawkers can still be found in the older residential neighborhoods, their wares are limited to vegetables in most cases.

The bangle shops have taken over. Even a small shop is able to carry a much larger variety than a hawker ever could. Street-side shops, such as the ones below, are quite popular in Bangalore.




And then there are ones like Bhavani Bangle Shop, which is a shop of the bone fida variety and is spread across four floors in Jayanagar, one of the busiest commercial areas of Bangalore. In all the years I lived in Bangalore, I dissed that shop. I grew up hating the thought of having to wear bangles or bracelets. Now it's a different story. Every time I've been back in the past few years, I've visited that shop, trying on and buying what a few years ago I thought was junk.

In the picture above, the owner receives boxes of new supplies for his shop.

The rows and rows of bangles and ear rings are mesmerizing. They are all costume jewellery, many of the designs (even those of the 'bindis' or the dots worn on the forehead) inspired by the heavily bejewelled heroines and vamps of the Indian soaps that rule the airwaves at all times of day and night.

Costume jewellery has caught on so well that this shop even offers to put together an entire set (bangles, necklaces, ear rings and other accessories) that will match your sari or other dress you might be planning to wear for a special event. I'd never heard of such a service before!



Most interesting of all, have you noticed something? The sales people are all men. A holdover from the bangle-man days, perhaps?

Memories of Deepavalis (Diwalis) Past

My brand new clothes that I will wear tomorrow sit neatly in a box in front of the altar (the mantapa) in the prayer room, as do my brother's and my parents'. The heady aroma of our favorite sweets that mom has made, Mysore Pak, Coconut Barfi, Besan Unde, has been taunting us all day long. The prayer room has been cleaned, the idols washed and the pooja (ritual) items readied for prayers tomorrow. Fresh flowers, coconuts and betel leaves are arranged neatly in two or three plates for the prayers and to give away to guests that will arrive all day long the next day.

The night before Deepavali is a culmination of days of preparations for one of my favorite festivals of the year, and if you grew up in India, I suspect yours too. The bathroom has been washed down, the stone floors scrubbed clean with a heavy brush and every single utensil cleaned to a shine. A massive brass vat encased in stone and cement sits in one corner of the bathroom, with a medium-sized hole taking up one half of one of the two cement walls that has been cleared of all ash residue, wood pieces and coal. The brass vat is now filled with fresh bathwater and fresh firewood is at the ready to be lit the next morning for boiling it.

My brother and I and any of the assorted uncles, aunts, cousins and friends have already been to one of the massive outdoor fields that has been converted into a firecraker market. We have braved the crowds, shouted at the top of our lungs to make ourselves heard to the man or woman running a particular stall, hurried from one stall to the next to get our hands on the most popular firecrackers and come away with bags full of goodies for the next day.

When at last the last of the relatives have gone back home to finish up their own preparations and every little thing is in order in our home, we reluctantly get into bed, with the very firm resolve of waking up at 3 a.m. The goal, every year, is to be the very first in your neighborhood to burst a firecracker. Tradition demands that firecrakers be set off before sunrise so their light can chase away the darkness. Three a.m. is the goal so we have ample time to be properly oiled down, to have a bath and for a small ritual, where those sweets are the first thing we eat, before we are allowed out on to the street to light the firecrackers. We most certainly do not want a repeat of last year when someone else's firecrakers woke us up. Oh, the horror and the ignominy!

Groggy but excited we - all three of us, including dad - line up in front of the prayer room as mom pats some oil onto our heads and hands us our new clothes. It's a race to the bathroom to see who gets in first. In a matter of minutes, we are ready. It's barely even four. We tear into the firecraker boxes, pick the one that has the reputation for the loudest sound (aspiringly called the atom bomb), and head out into the street. Not a peep from anywhere else yet. Dad and mom walk out behind us with a matchbox and a box of incense sticks. We each hold the fuse of the atom bomb between two fingers and carefully snip off about an inch of the paper encasing the thread of the fuse. This, so that the fuse doesn't light as fast and gives us time to get away after lighting it.


A ten-thousand firecracker round

It unspooled to this length. At the far end, another family well into their celebrations.
Dad hands each of us one incense stick, we light them and with the firecracker in one hand and the incense stick in the other, both held far apart so they don't accidentally come together in our hands (that would not be funny), we approach the middle of the street. We stand a few feet apart from one another and light our respective fuses and run back towards our gate. We stand there, all four of us with our palms covering our ears. (We know it's loud, we chose the loudest firecraker, we want it to be loud. Pray, why then do we cover our ears? I look at photographs of Deepavali and the most I have are of a whole lot of us with palms, sometimes forearms because the palms are holding lit incense sticks, over our ears.)

Two loud booms and Deepavali has well and truly begun!

A few more varieties of firecrakers - a string of the longer ones, flower pots, sparklers - and we head back in. A couple of other early risers are already up and we hear sounds popping up from the homes around us, but content at being the first, we are ready to climb into bed again. The day has arrived but it's a long way to go before we'll allow ourselves any rest, so we might as well catch up on sleep before the house and the streets get too noisy.



Flower pots
A couple of hours later, it's breakfast time and then family starts arriving in drips and dribbles. By lunchtime we have a full complement of everyone in town. The more the merrier, especially at Deepavali. There's good-natured ribbing of the less brave among us, someone makes a loud noise just as your incense stick approaches the fuse making you jump, bravado and machismo are on full display as one or the other consistently picks the largest, loudest firecracker.

Soon this too gets tiring and it's on to a game of cards or carrom board. Bravado and machismo and teasing on full display here too. There is no space for everyone to sit down and eat together. But we've all been eating all day long and it continues well into the night when it's time for another session of firecrackers. This time around, the neighbors are also out in full force and somehow all the firecrackers get pooled and we're all into each other's stashes, laughing, running, hiding and covering our ears together.

Nighttime on Deepavali always has a different flavor. It's time for the more visually spectacular firecrakers to come out - the flower pots, the bhuchakras (they spin on the ground), the vishnu chakras (held in the hand), the rockets that shoot off into the sky (when they work as they're supposed to, or else they land on your neighbor's roof to be discovered months later). It's definitely time for the oohs and aaahs.

A rocket ready to be lit. It's in an empty bottle to coax it to shoot straight up.
Bhuchakra
The next two days of the festival are more religious, with the Lakshmi Puja (prayers to the goddess of prosperity) and Balipadyami. More visits from relatives and more visits to relatives' houses, but nothing compares to the pure fun of that one day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

My family and I wish you and your families a very happy Deepavali, and whether you celebrate it or not, no matter which corner of the world you live in, we wish you a very prosperous and healthy year ahead.

Bangalore Life: A Bus Ride and a Lingering Memory

In my memory the thick stone walls rise to the level of four floors. The walls are covered with ivy and punctuated neatly with brown-colored windows. A sprawling stage backs to about a third of the back wall of the school. A little distance away is another imposing building, one that houses the convent of the Sisters of Charity. Still beyond that, a massive playground with a basketball court and another concrete stage.

A large open space behind the building is filled with girls in light-blue pinafores, white shirts, blue ties, white socks and black Mary Jane shoes. Girls with long hair have braids neatly folded in half and kept in place with blue ribbons. They are chatting in groups, headed somewhere in groups, eating lunch out of their lunch boxes in groups. Loners are few and far between. There is lots of chatter, shrieking, laughter.

From Sankey Road, a busy thoroughfare at somewhat of a higher elevation than the school (you looked down at the school from the road), it looks positively idyllic, straight out of my rendering of Nancy Drew or Hardy Boys and so different from any other school I've seen so far. This is where I want to go to high school, I tell my parents.

Our home is at least two bus rides away and then a long walk from the last bus stop to the school. In terms of time, that's at least an hour door to door with a heavy back pack on my shoulders. In India, there is no school districting. You pick whatever school you want to go to, but you figure out how you're going to get there. Some private schools provide buses, but it's not always an option. We have no car. All we have is a scooter that my father rides to work in the opposite direction from the school. There is no one else that goes to the same school from my neighborhood.

There is no dissuading me, however. So off to Stella Maris High School I go. On all my note books and text books, I write my name, my grade and the name of my school - Stella Maris High. Note the missing 'School.' That's because Nancy Drew went to Riverdale High and Joe and Frank to Bayport High.

One day after school, I walk the 20-minute walk from the school to the bus terminus (many bus routes begin and end at this one bus stop) at 18th Cross in Malleswaram. Most of you will know how crowded the buses get in India. Bangalore is no exception. Riders will make the extra effort to trek to a terminus because there is at least half a chance that they might get to sit, rather than stand in the aisles (perfectly normal in India) or even on the steps leading into the bus (yours truly has ridden many times on the steps of a bus).

Once you get on the bus, you must purchase a ticket from the conductor (unlike in the US, the conductor is not the driver of the bus - this caused a whole lot of confusion when I first arrived in the US, I tell you). When every passenger purchases a ticket, the conductor blows a whistle strung around his neck and signals the driver to start driving.

This particular day, the bus is so crowded there is absolutely no space. The conductor is trying to finish up selling the tickets as fast as he can, but people are still arriving and trying to squeeze in. The exasperated conductor and driver hold a mini-conference. The situation is untenable, they concur, and agree they should execute a plan they've come up with for conditions such as this. They decide to start driving and stop about half a mile away but before the next scheduled bus stop on their route. That way the passengers already on the bus can finish buying the tickets but the driver and conductor wouldn't have to deal with new passengers constantly trying to get in.

A few seconds later, the driver hears the whistle and we're off! The bus stops at the agreed-upon place and we all wait for the conductor to make his rounds. It is stifling, to say the least, in the confines of the bus. The press of people, the still air and an immobile bus are not helping. Soon people start craning their necks to see how far the conductor has to go before the bus can move again. The people in the front crane their necks toward the back and the people in the back look toward the front of the bus.

The conductor is nowhere in sight.

Now the driver is impatient too. He has a schedule to keep if he wants to be home on time. He hollers, "ಎಲ್ಲಪ್ಪ ಇದ್ದೀಯ ನೀನು?" (where are you man?).

Silence. Then groans and clicking of the tongues.

Just as it dawns on everyone that we've managed to leave the conductor behind, an autorickshaw whizzes past and comes to a screeching halt in front of the bus. Out comes the conductor, shaking his fist at the driver in mock anger, unable to control his laughter at the turn of events.

Then a routine that would put the Three Stooges to shame: "I heard the whistle." "But I didn't blow the whistle." "But I heard the whistle. I thought you blew the whistle." "I'm telling you I didn't blow the whistle."

At every stop that day, the driver and the conductor proceed to enact an elaborate skit to make sure the conductor is safely on the bus before it starts to move again.

Complications during VBAC and a terrible tragedy

The Mad Momma has posted Rashmi and Vivek's horrifying story of the birth and death of their second child. Attempting a vaginal birth after caeserean (VBAC), the delivery ran into complications resulting in the baby's death. It is an excruciatingly painful story, their grief amplified by what they say was the hospital's negligence and uncaring attitude.

I felt no urge whatsoever to push, yet was asked to do so. The stirrup on the delivery table kept breaking off – I was told that this is a recurring problem that “needed attention”. At 1.50 pm, the fetal heart rate dropped to 80 beats per minute. Dr. Prabha was called again. She checked the fetal heart rate on the CTG, explained that this was normal when the baby was passing through the birth canal, and asked me to hold my breath and push hard. I felt no sensation in my cervical area, but felt intense pain tearing my stomach apart. I felt like my baby had rolled into my stomach and could see its body pushing up against my ribcage. I was screaming, pointing at my stomach, and telling them that my stomach was hurting, and there was no urge to push. But she told me to “push, push harder”. I then heard Dr. Prabha saying “Get the OT ready”. She told my husband that she was going to attempt to deliver by forceps – if that was unsuccessful, she’d have to do a Caesarian.

The OT wasn’t on standby, wasn’t ready. I was numb with pain. They wanted me to get up and move to the operation table. I couldn’t move. They eventually slid something under my back and I pushed myself on to the OT table, as there was no transfer stretcher available. I complained of severe shoulder and chest pain. No one paid me any attention; everyone was busy preparing the OT, and the anesthetist was attempting to top up my epidural. The fetal heart rate was never monitored in the OT. Dr. Prabha unsuccessfully attempted a forceps delivery at 2.20 p.m., and then cut me open. I heard a deafening sucking sound, after which I must have passed out.

Later, I learnt that my uterus had ruptured along the scar of my previous Caeserian section. My baby was found floating in my abdomen. He had no heartbeat and he wasn’t breathing. He had been deprived of oxygen for a long time – 43 minutes. They “resuscitated” my son and put him on a ventilator.

When I opened my eyes I saw Dr. Latha leave, followed by Dr. Prabha. Dr. Shirley was suturing me while laughing and talking with another nurse. I felt reassured that my baby was okay, even though I had neither seen nor heard him.

After months of working with the hospital to find out exactly what when wrong, Rashmi and Vivek were met with stonewalling and assertions by the attending doctor that she would do the same thing over again in a similar case in the future. And that is exactly what Rashmi says she is looking to prevent.

Please do click the link above and read the entire post.

Wockhardt Bangalore, the hospital where Rashmi attempted to have her baby, is responding in the comments section to The Mad Momma's post. Girl on the Bridge linked to the post on her blog:

As someone who will be (hopefully) a mother soon, this story is my worst nightmare. Of course, my situation is not the same. This is my first child. What annoys me most is the hospital’s claim (Wockhardt has a long rebuttal in MM’s comments) that Rashmi chose Dr. Latha because she wanted a VBAC. This is conjecture and probably not useful to any lawyer fighting on facts but I know, I just KNOW that no matter how certain a woman is about how she wants her birth to be, no matter how much she is set on a certain type of experience she would not, would not put her child at risk.

I have said many times before on this blog that we need to be involved in the medical procedures that we go through, we need to ask questions, read on our own about the conditions and the procedures. Rashmi's story does not take away from any of that. If anything, it emphasizes the need to not only be aware of what's being done to us but also the need to be careful in choosing medical institutions and doctors.

Many times, in emergencies especially, we don't have a choice regarding what hospital we end up in or which doctor attends to us, but for the times we do, I wish there were some service that would rate the doctors on their competency and bedside manner and success in their field. I'm not saying that the tragedy that befell Rashmi and her family will never ever happen again, but it will arm people with the kind of information that I didn't have when I was getting ready to have my baby in Bangalore, the kind of information that parents-to-be come searching for to my blog (and I'm sure many others) on the backs of a google search.

I deeply admire Rashmi for what she is doing. She has lived through an experience so devastating that we would not wish it on our worst enemies and she is using her story to educate mothers-to-be. A story that, I'm sure, calls up her pain every time she recounts it, that reopens wounds that would heal faster if only they were allowed to stay closed. I do hope that her efforts result in a better experience with hospitals for anyone considering having a baby.

P.S. Thanks, Aaman, for alerting me to this story.

Confessions of a Newly Returned Indian

If you are considering returning to India and would like the viewpoint of someone who has returned recently, consider following the adventures of neoIndian (via DesiPundit). Commentary on social issues plus thoughts on schooling and such. From the About section:

While your overworked spouse screams at you to take the garbage out, Neo is calmly munching on Samosas prepared by a suspiciously good-looking maid.

While you are stuck in traffic, Neo has outsourced road-rage to his overpaid driver and is lounging in the back-seat of his car tweeting from his iPhone.

While you are busy trying to outsource everyone’s job except your own, Neo makes a shitload of money working for a software company in Bangalore where he manages a group of engineers who are smart, but not smarter than Neo. Not even close.

No harm in having a little fun while plotting your move back. No?

Bangalore: Theaterscience at Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan

Via e-mail from Jagriti:

Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan
&

Theatrescience UK and JAGRITI
cordially invites you to the

H.N. Dwarakanath Endowment Programme

Two thought provoking dramatic pieces -

one aimed at young minds andthe other for adults

followed by discussions with the authors, directors, performers
and scientists from NCBS

on Sunday, 8th February 2009

at 5.00 p.m.

at Khincha Auditorium,

Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan,

Race Course Road,

Bangalore 560 001

************

with compliments from

JAGRITI

Ramagondanahalli, Varthur Road,

Whitefield

Bangalore 560 066 INDIA

T: +91 80 2847 5373,

M: +91 97406 57191

E: operations@jagrititheatre.com, W: www.jagrititheatre.com

Bangalore: Seminar on Modern British Theater Practice

Via e-mail, this announcement:

British Library 10.00 A.M. to 1.00 P.M. on Saturday, 24 January

A life on the stage is many a life's dream. A show on London's WestEnd is many a tourist's dream destination. But what is the real substance of these dreams? What are the possibilities, the entry requirements? The career prospects? The working conditions? Ask these and any other questions and get the answers from professionals in British theatre on Saturday, 24 January, 10.00 to 1.00 at the BritishLibrary, 23 Kasturba Road Cross.

All are welcome but there is room for only 30 of you, so rush your registrations to art@jagrititheatre.com with MODERN BRITISH THEATRE in the subject line. Be there!

Bangalore: From Outsourcing Heaven to Hotbed of Innovation

But Jain's zest eventually fizzled under the repetitive rigors of the Indian back office. So he did what a parade of burned-out functionaries in Bangalore have begun doing: He quit outsourcing to create his own start-up - in his case, designing cellphone software that blocks calls from telemarketers.

Like Jain, some of the best minds in India, trained by leading global companies like Oracle, Yahoo and Microsoft, are slipping out of the back office to build start-ups. And Bangalore, the outsourcing capital, now looks like an incipient Silicon Valley of the East.

Anand Giriharadas in today's IHT.

~~

A Love Letter to Bangalore

Aaman sent me this link via e-mail. I'd read bikerdude before, but not in a while. Anyway, this post is hilarious and I want to go to a donut angadi. Like now.

The shop assistants, imported as always from a different planet, nodded and shook their heads for everything. Several sweet delights later, I waddled back to work and realized my wallet was gone. "Aiyo!" I screamed, and huff-puffed back to the donut shop. "Did you see my wallet?" Nod, shake. "Wallet, purse. Left here. Anybody saw?" Nod shake. "No?" Nod shake. "Yes?" Nod shake. I gave up, wrote my name and number on a paper and told them to call me if it turned up. Nod shake.

.

The Chronicle of One Family's Decision to Return to India

Writer and journalist Shoba Narayan painstakingly chronicles her family's decision to return to India. The words jump off the page as she describes her longing, confusion, determination and excitement.

It was after I had a child that I first entertained the previously heretical possibility that, perhaps, America wasn’t home for me. I was tired, sleep deprived and encumbered, and the “land of the free” no longer seemed so to me. I was saddled with a toddler and missed parents, relatives and other potential babysitters. I missed the respite that came from dropping off a child with a trusted aunt for a few hours.

India’s social fabric seemed more conducive to raising a family. There, I could call a neighbor, any neighbor, at a moment’s notice and ask her to watch my child while I ran out for some milk. I missed the septuagenarian grandfathers who patrolled my neighborhood and reported back all naughtiness and babysitter negligence. I had hated their interfering as a child; now, as a mother, I viewed them as allies. I missed the whole village of people who had raised me, who would help me raise my child.

The whole thing is here (via SAJA).

Updated to add links to previous posts on this topic:

Where is Home?

What Makes a Community?

Parenting from an Immigrant Perspective

Identity - The Quest for Comfort Within our Skins

Bangalore: The Insider/Outsider Debate

Happy Deepavali!

We were very lucky to have celebrated Deepavali the last two years with our families and friends in India. It was childhood all over again - braving the crowds at the firecracker stands, having to make choices between equally enticing flowerpots, rockets, Lakshmi patakis, vishnu chakras and bhuchakras, splurging on the garland of 10,000 crackers, running through the entire flowerpot stash in ten minutes, and then running to the shop to splurge some more, the endless cups of tea and carrom board games, the family jokes, the teasing and the gossip, and the FOOD!

Two years ago, apart from two cousins, the entire set from my mom's side was in attendance and it was great to hang out with them - babies when I left but now all grown up.

Pictures from Deepavalis past are all we have this year and the hope that we can meet up with some friends this weekend and recreate the magic.

Swim Teams in Bangalore

For those who are looking for information on swim teams in Bangalore:

The pool in Basavanagudi has very good coaches and the swimmers there regularly compete in state and national competitions. You should be able to obtain their mumber by calling directory assistance in Bangalore at 23333333.

Good luck.

Life in Palm Meadows, Bangalore: A View From the Inside

On the day we headed back to the US, we had lived in Palm Meadows exactly one year. For a year and a half before that, we lived in one of Adarsh's other developments, Adarsh Palace, an apartment community in Jayanagar. We had heard a lot of good things about Palm Meadows and the quality of life and amenities, but the biggest attraction for us was that it would be close to our son's new school, Greenwood High.



Palm Meadows is on Airport-Varthur Road close to Whitefield and Sarjapur, about 45 minutes away from MG Road and Jayanagar, and about 20 minutes away from The International School of Bangalore, Indus International School, Inventure Academy and Greenwood High. It is also close to Ryan International, Gopalan International School, Deccan International, GEAR Academy and India International.

It is a gated community of about 600 single family homes, with 10 or more security guards manning the gates at any given time. Some houses are big and some are small, but most houses have at least three bedrooms each. Residents of Palm Meadows are a mix of original owners, returning Indians and expats.

In terms of amenities, it has a club house (with three swimming pools including an indoor pool and a kiddie pool, two restaurants, a full-size gym, sauna, spa, salon, library, and indoor and outdoor children's play areas), three grocery stores (a convenience store and 24-Letter Mantra and Namdhari's, two organic food stores), two gift shops and a tea/coffee/juice shop. The community has 24-hour water and electricity supply.

The layout is beautifully conceived, each house has its own lawn areas, the roads are neatly paved with footpaths, landscaping in the common areas is lovely and the residents' association has hired a veritable army of gardeners and landscapers who painstakingly work every day to preserve the vibrant trees, flowers and plants that are local to the area. There are at least 12 varieties of palm trees within the community and the lawns are manicured - literally - at the hands of day laborers wielding scissors and squatting on their haunches on the grass.



The clubhouse is a hub of activity in the community. There are swimming coaches on staff, tennis lessons, aerobics classes and Bollywood dance lessons are available. The community also has an arts center run by one of the residents that offers Indian classical dance lessons, piano/keyboard lessons and lessons in various other Indian musical instruments.

The streets within the community are filled with kids playing cricket or biking in the evening, mothers going for a walk with babies in strollers and with people walking or jogging in the early morning hours.

The main issues about life in Palm Meadows have to do with the rents and home prices, and cost and difficulty of hiring and retaining reliable, trustworthy domestic help.

When the community was first built close to 10 years ago, the original owners apparently bought the houses for around 80 lakhs. A few months before we left one of the houses had an asking price of 4.5 crores. Although there are many communities now coming up that are similar to Palm Meadows (Prestige Developers' Ozone, about five minutes away is one), the demand for housing and for the lifestyle Palm Meadows promises is mind-boggling.

The rents are not very far behind in terms of the shock factor. There are three resident real estate agents that have all the houses sewn up between them and manage to jack up rents to stratospheric levels. The rents are totally arbitrary (whatever the agent feels like quoting at that moment based on how desperate he or she thinks the renter is). The quote for the same house may have gone up by a few thousand rupees within a span of a few days. Most of their clients are expats, some of whom have no clue as to what is reasonable and what's not and will shell out whatever rent is demanded because they are in India for only a few days before they have to settle housing, schools, work-related issues, etc.

In fact, the situation is so good for home owners that many of them rent their houses out and they themselves go rent a house somewhere else in Bangalore because they make more money that way.

This air of a feeding frenzy pervades the domestic help market as well. The average drivers make is about Rs. 7,000/month. Some drivers make as much as Rs. 10,000/month, mostly working for expat employers. The situation is similar with the ladies that help with household chores. The minimum salary is about Rs. 2,000/month and sometimes as much as Rs. 6,000/month. It is not uncommon to find groups of drivers and other domestic helpers standing around discussing who's paying what and who's looking for helpers.

The section of the Palm Meadows population that is at the raw end of the deal is the group of returning Indians, most of them having purchased a house in Palm Meadows years ago and now are returning to an untenable situation.

Most residents feel that the problem is not with paying the domestic help the money (the economy is rewarding the high-tech sector, so why should the prosperity not trickle down?), but the fact that there is no assurance that you are getting reliable help. We discovered that our driver was making money on the side by using our car as a taxi service whenever the car was empty. And the way we discovered it was the police caught him and impounded the car for using a private car as a taxi. We also discovered later that he had come to us asking for a job although he was employed by one of the other residents. One day he just decided he wanted to make more money and started asking around and ditched his previous employer. They kept calling him for a week, they told me later, before one of their friends saw him at our house and they figured out what happened.

There are scores of similar stories. The issue is that there is a limited pool of helpers and now with Ozone already open for occupation, the situation is only going to get worse.

If you are aware of this issue and are prepared to stand your ground and deal with it and you are prepared to deal with traffic (especially over the Marathahalli Bridge, the only viable entrance to the Whitefield area from the rest of the city), Palm Meadows is a great place to live. It's a breath of fresh air, literally. I like to call it the bubble because it's so different from the rest of the city, but it's a very nice bubble.

Update:

1. Boo's comment to this post reminded me that I'd forgotten all about the service apartments and rooms in the clubhouse. Many companies have rented rooms (of which more were being built as we left) in the clubhouse for employees who transfer into their Bangalore offices for the short term.

2. One of the cons of living in a gated community like Palm Meadows, as a chat with Firang Squirrel, a friend and an expat from the US, reminded me, you totally miss out on the quintessential Bangalore - street hawkers selling fruits and veggies, kadle puri, the umbrella repair man and the knife grinder selling their services, etc. Of course, you also miss out on power cuts and water shortages. For now. Even Palm Meadows and other gated communities might not be able to avoid these in the near future if the expansion of the city keeps going at the current rate.

Homeschooling in Bangalore

Su, in response to a query regarding homeschooling via the comments on one of my posts on schools in Bangalore, has this to say:

There are lots of families in Bangalore who are homeschooling their kids even in higher classes, so you're [not] alone. There is a yahoogroup for people who are interested in alternative education in India and the group has quite a few homeschoolers, most are from Bangalore, Mumbai and Pune. The group is http://groups.yahoo.com/group/alt-ed-india/

So if you are interested in homeschooling, check out the yahoo group by clicking on the link or by copying and pasting the url at the end of the response into your browser. Good luck.

Grasshopper Restaurant, Bangalore

I don't remember a single conversation from all the times I've been to the Grasshopper, but my memories are all of good times spent with good friends enjoying good food in a lovely ambience.

Grasshopper is housed in a farm on the outskirts of Bangalore off of Bannerghatta Road just past the Meenakshi temple (it's about a 30-minute drive from Jayanagar). The surroundings are beautiful with large, mature trees, some of them mango and sapota (chikoo), and a vegetable garden out in the front. A gravelled pathway laid with stones takes you past an industrial looking building on the right and a small pond on the left.



The path leads to a long, wide corridor on your right supported by beams and looking out on to a wide expanse of gravelly ground set with stone benches and more trees.



The corridor is the main seating space for the patrons with the gravelly yard serving as overflow space.



As you can imagine, space is tight and reservations are a must and at least a day before. The restaurant does not cater to walk-in patrons.

The first time we visited Grasshopper we did not know what to expect. One of our friends had heard about it, knew they served salads (after months of Indian food, one thing I positively crave is a salad fix) and that was good enough reason to go check it out.



We called for reservations and the owner, Sonali, asked details about who would eat what - if there were vegetarians in the group, if everyone would eat sea food, whether there were any dietary restrictions and so on. What we found when we went there the next day is the equivalent of a gastronomic oasis of understated continental cuisine in a spice-mad country. The menu is set (eliminating the bother of the menu-perusing and dish-choosing ritual) and the dishes in the seven-course meal are brought out one by one at an unhurried pace.

Since then we've gone back a few times, some times with children, other times not. Children love the space to run around in and to explore the various nooks and crannies on the farm. There are a few beautiful dogs on the farm that become instant friends with the children.

The food is excellent. The combination of the fresh raw materials and the flavors brought together with the minimum of interference in the kitchen is truly a delight to savor. I suddenly realized the last time we were there that the warm breads served right at the beginning to get you started are the only carbohydrates you will get during the entire meal.

The combination of the unhurried service, the quiet surroundings, the uncrowded atmosphere (at the most you can expect one other group to be seated next to you during your entire stay there), the homely feel all combine to relax your senses and let loose. Conversation flows easily and a general feeling of bonhomie envelopes you by the time desert and coffee roll around at the end of about the three or four hours.

All this comes at a price, as you might have guessed. Lunch and dinner are priced at around Rs. 1,500 per person (drinks not included). I understand Grasshopper serves a shorter version during weekdays at lunchtime.

Grasshopper also houses a fashion boutique with designer clothes, sandals and jewellery for sale.

Reservations tel. no.: 98454 52646.

Bangalore Children's Theater Workshops

The Bangalore theater scene has always been vibrant, but the buzz has steadily increased over the last few years with the opening of Rangashankara, Arundhati Nag's theater space in South Bangalore and with the impending opening of Jagriti, an enterprise of Jagdish and Arundhati Raja in Whitefield.

Along with these increase in theater activity also comes a myriad opportunities for children to learn basic drama skills. In some of the camps, the training culminates in a production to be put up by the children and directed by the workshop organizers.

If your child is interested in theater, then do investigate these four options I've come across. One of them might be right for your child.

I. Logos Theater:

What: Logos Theatre's "Let's Play," a theatre workshop
Children's Age Limit: Eight to thirteen years
Where: Pitter Patter Preschool, 9th Main, 3rd Cross, Koramangala 3rd Block
When: From 16 April to 30 April, between four and six in the evening

An e-mail from Logos Theater says that the workshop "will explore and foster creativity through playful means such as gestures, movement, voice-work, mime, working with objects, etc. It is aimed at improving the child's narrative, communication and interpersonal skills."

For more information, and registration, you can contact Logos Theatre at No. 126, 3rd Main Road, Jayamahal Extension, Bangalore - 560046. Tel: 9880966313, or e-mail: logos.theword@gmail.com.

II. Artistes' Repertory Theatre (ART):

ART's Jagriti-Kids and Jagriti-Youth are conducting two separate summer workshops in the theater arts in April and May this year.

What: Jagriti Kids
Children's Age Limit: Seven to twelve years;
Where: Neev Playschool, Whitefield Main Road
When: 16 April to 01 May (excluding Sundays)
Fee: Rs. 1,200

What: Jagriti Youth
Children's Age Limit: Thirteen to eighteen years
Where: Neev Playschool, Whitefield Main Road
When: 14 May to 29 May (excluding Sundays)
Fee: Rs. 1,500

For more information, visit ART's blog or e-mail edu@jagrititheatre.com for a registration form.

III. Benaka Makkala Nataka Kendra:

Mrs. Prema Karanth, a well-known theater artiste, will conduct a month and a half-long theater workshop for children that will put up a Kannada musical based on The Merchant of Venice with elements drawn from Nagananda and Jimutha Vahana among others.

Children's Age Limit: Ten to eighteen years
When: 20 April to 08 June
Fee: Rs. 500
Register by: April 15

For further information and for registering, you can contact Mrs. Karanth on 26720672.

IV. Rangashankara:

Rangashankara's worshop has already begun! Hurry up if you are interested and give them a call at 2659 2777.

Children's Age Limit: Nine to twelve years (as of 1 April 2007)
When: 02 April to 11 April (both days inclusive); two batches - 8:30 am to 10:30 am and 11:30 am to 1:30 pm
Where: Rangashankara, J.P. Nagar
Fee: Rs. 1,000

If there are other summer theater workshops you know about in Bangalore, please do leave a comment and I'll update this post to include that information.

Bangalore Restaurant Saigon

My husband and I were running some errands a couple of weekends ago (read loitering) and found ourselves on Church Street around lunchtime. None of the usual suspects - Mainland China, Sunny's, Ruby Tuesday's - sounded appetizing. We were walking back to the car parked near Amoeba when we spied a restaurant nameplate that said Saigon. We did not remember ever having seen it before and went closer to investigate. The menu exhibited outside advertized pan Asian cuisine with Thai, Vietnamese, Indonesian, Singaporean, Malaysian, Philippino and Chinese dishes.

With nothing to lose (well, hopefully our hunger), we decided to go in. The entrance to the restaurant is to the left side of Amoeba through a corridor, up three flights of stairs (or the elevator) to a cozy space with a bar in front and the restaurant at the back.

We walked in and saw one empty table. The restaurant was packed. There were about 15 tables laid out in the horizontal space and the place was hopping with couples, groups of friends and about three or four families, some with young children. The decor was pleasing and not too loud with muted lighting and a subdued color scheme; the music seemed to lull and rise with the pitch of the myriad conversations around us.

It was Sunday brunch and there was a buffet, but we decided to stick with the menu. Buffets are great when you are with a large group - it's a pain to order for that many people. Moreover, even if you ordered from the menu, it becomes like a buffet anyway, with each person getting only a taste of a myriad dishes. With fewer people, we like ordering from the menu mainly because we end up eating less than we would at the buffet and we don't have to keep getting up from the table.

OK, let's cut to the chase. The food was excellent. We ordered Thai crispy fried prawns with golden fried garlic, chicken marinated and wrapped in Pandan leaves and deep fried, Thai vegetables stir fried with chilli, garlic and basil and Thai chicken stir fried with bell peppers and cashew nuts. All the dishes came in the right portion sizes, tasted wonderful and were beautifully presented (the dishes range from about Rs. 85 to Rs. 400). And my mojito was cool, refreshing and delicious.

The service was even better, though the waiters were a tad over zealous in clearing the plates or piling on second servings. The waiters actually waited on us rather than us having to flag one down every time we needed something. The manager, Tony, even offered to "outsource" some mango ice cream for us which was not on the menu.

Saigon is a new restaurant and the people operating it seemed genuinely excited about being there. We got a tour of their party hall downstairs which had a view of Church Street through wall-length windows. It seemed like a good space to entertain a reasonable sized crowd.

All in all it was a very good experience and we promised ourselves we would be back.

Saigon
Pan Asian Cuisine
#20, Church Street, Bangalore
Tel: 4112 2855

ART's Theater Workshops for Children

Jagriti-Kids and Jagriti-Youth are conducting summer workshops in the theater arts in April and May this year.

Here are some details:

Jagriti Kids (7 to 12 years)

Dates: 16 April to 01 May (excluding Sundays)
Fee: Rs. 1,200
Venue: Neev Playschool, Whitefield Main Road

Jagriti Youth (13 to 18 years)

Dates: 14 May to 29 May (excluding Sundays)
Fee: Rs. 1,500
Venue: Neev Playschool, Whitefield Main Road

E-mail edu@jagrititheatre.com for a registration form.

For more information visit ART's blog.