It's chickoo time in Hoskote

                           This year is a BUMPER crop!

As children there was a chickoo tree planted in the back of the property by my grand father. He was a great gardener as the garden boasted of every conceivable fruit tree our hearts desired. After Dad took over the house, he rented it to a jockey family, as we lived in New Delhi, since Dad was posted there as an aeronautical engineer. The woman of the house ran a dairy farm in the back of the property, making lakhs of rupees selling the milk to all the big hotels in the city. However the potent urine  of the cows disturbed the fruit trees and the chickoo tree in particular stopped fruiting.

Our 25 graft chickoo trees in Hoskote.

Then Dad was able to get them out of our home - ofcourse they did not want to leave since they were enjoying such a huge property for little or no 'çaretaker' rent. Finally with the help of lawyer Rego and several desperate appeals as a serving officer to  New -Delhi, Dad got our home back and we moved back in. As usual they were powerful people so kept us hanging, but finally truth won in the end, but it was a tough fight for Dad. 

A one year old graft is already fruiting!

So,  to go back to the chickoo tree that stopped fruiting in the garden -- my mother began a preschool in a building erected at the back of the house. The chickoo tree was saved and it stood there alongside the sandpit which my mother had made for the babies to play in. The babies played near it shouting and screaming aound the tree and the next thing we knew -- the barren tree was loaded with fruit! Dads stand about the trees being happy --seemed to come true. Even though we scoffed at his reason as kids.

The FIFTH picking this year from Hoskote!

Then came our farm our beautiful Bella Vista and I listened to Dad and bought ONLY grafts from Lalbagh of the cricket ball and oval varieties. We planted them and they grew over the years giving us just one or two maximum pickings. THEN we began our Sustainable Living classes for many schools for free in the farm 2 years ago. That brought in hundreds of kids who had never seen chickoos growing on trees. They screamed and played games around them and to my great surprise Dads words have come true in our farm-- the trees are happy with the sounds of kids around them. The branches are groaning with the weight of the fruit on every single tree!

 

                   Girls from Dream Foundation

Dads words are vindicated.  Yes truly the trees are happy with the kids around. The apples are fruiting, the star fruit are bigger, the tamarind had a huge crop, the Bangkok tamarind fruited and yes! they are sweet, the avocados are fruiting and the seetaphal and Ramphal too. Never mind the rash of jackfruit and the amlas both the native and domesticated. The star gooseberries and our mangoes - what Mallikas and Raspuris we get-- I feel sad Dad and Mum cant enjoy them.

The farm is happy and thrilled the kids have come and for the FIRST year I am selling my fruit on whatssapp and they are flying off to excited buyers via Dunzo. Thanks Dad and Mum. There is so much in my life I know thanks to the both of you. I wake every single day saying thank you for your inheritance which has changed my life. 

                  Girls playing inbetween the chickoo trees.

The astounding frescoes of St Aloysius Chapel

                          An astounding piece of art. Can out rival European churches.

I had heard stories about the beauty of St Aloysius Chapel from the Jesuit priests I had worked with in St Joseph's PG College, Bangalore. Truly you should write about it Marianne-- said Fr Praveen Martis who had been my principal and Fr Ambrose Pinto who poached me from the Deccan Herald to start the Media section. Both men said since I enjoy renaissance art and had written extensively about it for the newspapers while I did my Erasmus Mundus in Europe, I SHOULD take a trip.

                     The beauty of the frescoes across every wall and roof.

So telling Everest the driver to wait in the shade of the rain trees we slipped off our shoes and walked into the silent and cool church. How it can be called a chapel is beyond me. Its as big as the St Patricks Church in Bangalore, and much more colourful.  Reluctantly taking off my shoes, as I had just had a mandatory pedicure, I need not have worried as the floors were spotless.

                           Intricate frescoes on the roof!

I walked literally with my mouth open. Such beauty I had seen only in Rome and  Milan, maybe Venice and Turin. None of the glitzy German churches could compare, infact our Portuguese legacy churches in Goa are far superior to the German churches or even Polish churches.

Every inch of the roof is adorned.

 But unlike the European churches there was no literature or any guide to explain the art we were gawping at. We just wandered around and stared and took pictures. All done in the renaissance styles we had seen on our several visits to Rome and other parts of Europe, especially Italy.

Br Antonio Moscheni the Italian  who was the artist.

Born near Bergamo in Italy, in 1854, Br Moscheni was apprenticed under the masters who worked in the Vatican and Fresco art became his passion. In 1889 he joined the Jesuits and painted several churches in Yugoslavia and Albania. He also painted several churches in India including a cathedral in Mumbai. Sadly in 1905 he fell ill and died after falling greviously ill. I personally wonder if the lead in the paint affected him and he finally passed away. We humans are stupid and do not check what can cause fatal illness in us by using different chemicals. Then we wonder how we got cancer.

                               Outstanding art

It was when Everest the driver told us to go to the museum that we went in and got a lot of information. The chapel is so famous because of its frescoes and for that visitors come from all over the world to see them. 

Always give a token gift of cash for the upkeep of the church. And dress with care!

A trip to Mangalore

                                             The Vista Dome train!

"You have to come and see me before I die!" How can anyone be more dramatic?

This was the phone call I received from Chandrahas Kutty a really old friend from my days in Sophia College , Mumbai. I was sent to study in Mums Alma Mater from New Delhi and one of those idiotic Jam Sessions the colleges did -- inviting other colleges to attend was where we met. A long haired hippe looking character in a jubba and Kholapuri chappals. I was just intrigued cause he was top of the class in Sydenham Collage of Commerce but beyond that -- his heathen status put me off.

His father was like mine -- a service man -- in the Army in Delhi. Col Kutty was a Malayali posing as a Mangalorean with his Mangalorean, Lobo wife. Throughout my life I stayed in touch all through the loss of his first wife to asthma in Costa Rica where they lived, to his remarriage a few years later to a Sri Lankan woman.

Bonny wanted his Gadbad and me being diabetic had no added sugar vanilla!

So Steve booked tickets for us on the Vista Dome -  a fancy train which allowed one to enjoy the greenery we passed. It was nothing to crow about -- imagine wasting a whole day in the train from 7am looking at stuff we saw, much better while going to Goa. Anyway the coffee bushes we passed were something different and once in a while a blazing Palash tree in the jungles lifted my spirits.

                                        Gadbad icecream!

 We went to the Summer Sands resort for lunch one day and ofcourse the St Aloysius College chapel and met my old St Joe's college principal Fr Praveen Martis who's the big man there. The chapel needs a whole story of its own it was so outstanding!

Sunbun left a car and driver at our disposal and we roamed wherever we wanted. I hate shopping so that was fine and our beaches in Goa are much nicer, so we avoided the beach. But he took us everywhere for sea food.

Ofcourse we lived in his brand new 15th floor apartment where he escapes to all the time from Delhi's pollution. I wont go back ever cause its still a small one hick town from the days we went with the boys for their Nationals.

Coming back to Bangalore, we took an over night sleeper which brought us straight to the Cantt Station. So much easier than Yeshwanthpur! We jumped into a three wheeler auto and we were home and dry.

Mums sweet and hot brinjal pickle

 

                                               Mums brinjal pickle

As kids, Mum never liked to cook. Anyway we always had a khansama ji who cooked the most divine food of the area. In Delhi we had stuffed mooli and potato parathas. I have NEVER tasted such luxury ever again. 

I too never liked to cook as my sister Christine was the best cook in the family. She still is and turns out ridiculous things like samosas and jalebis in Perth W Australia. Infact all her messages in those days were about her cooking and both Mum and me would grimace and glance them over. Never forget while I was doing my 2nd Masters In Aarhus or Amsterdam I had to make dessert for the pot luck we were having in the hostel and I wrote to her asking for something simple. She send me Cathedral Windows which was 3 or 4 types of coloured jellies cut up and placed together! Tons of work! 

I went to TESCOs and bought a huge flan base of sponge and a carton of ready custard, some cherries and tins of peaches. My dessert was ready and I was hailed as a wonder cook.  Ridiculous really as all of it was ready made! But now as I age and am kind of semi -retired, I cook to relax and find it very cathartic. Pickles especially and Mums goan brinjal pickle is a favourite in the house and among my pals. Its easy, its quick and I have changed ingredients to suit what I like. Infact its in a recipe book written by an author friend with Mums name in print! She'd be chuffed!

                                Use only these fat fleshy brinjals

Here's the recipe which has gone round the world. I make 1 kg bottles

and freeze for my DIL's as they love it and enjoy with tortillas.

Here the men eat it with every meal.

I love it with a hot chappatie.

Only ONE very important point to remember ---

DO NOT use a dirty spoon. Since the oil component is

less and I dont use preservatives s its dangerous

for us humans, keep that STRONGLY in mind so

your pickle does not go off.

Sweet and hot Brinjal pickle.... 

RECIPE

1. Heat 3/4 cup of groundnut oil in a pan till quite hot.

2. Put in 2 tbsp ginger/garlic paste, 2 tbsp kashmiri chilli pwd, 2 tsp jeera,

1 tsp mustard pwd and 1 tsp haldi. Fry well till the raw smell disappears. 

3. Now put in 1 kg of chopped brinjal pieces with 2 tbsp salt and

3/4 cup brown sugar. Stir well. 

4. Add 1 cup brown vinegar and bring to the boil. Put in curry leaves and

20 pods of garlic sliced. Mix everything well.

5. Close the pan bring everything to the boil and cook on simmer

for around 45 minutes.

Check that the brinjal is soft. Cool pickle and fill in bottles.

Here is where I made variations: 1) I used Apple Cider vinegar ONLY

2)Used 1 tbspn of minced garlic rather than the 20 cloves

3) cut the sugar down to half the quantity

as I am diabetic. Now I use jaggery instead of sugar.

4) Used mustard paste in the US rather than powder.

In India the seeds lightly crushed are fine. 5) Used sunflower

oil rather than olive oil or peanut.

6) I put the pieces out in the sun for an hour or more

so the water comes out of the brinjal.

Pour the liquid to your plants!
Comes out really well with the fat purple brinjal.

Eat with chappaties!

All the Life that I have lived

All the Life that I have lived

 Six months ago or more I was asked by a Professor friend in Iowa, to do a story board for a film on a boy who came out of the slums of Chennai to become a magnate in the Paper Industry in the USA. The boy was his classmate in the IIT in Madras and wanted to tell his story. I just ignored it as I was too busy traveling to see my sons and their families and I was unsure of who the guy was, that I was to write about. I needed time to decide.

Alaina 10 years ago when I went to look after her for 6 months!

For me my family was much more important and we were all meeting up in Andy's and Annika's home to have 2 weeks together. Then as things often pan out in my life I opened the email from the Professor in London one morning and reading the mans story I was hooked.

Picking apples in David's home!

I immediately wrote to Professor Prabhu accepting the request to wrote the book. Lucky I discussed the project with David and he said -- "You always charge way below your worth Mum.Just think and charge as this is going to be a lot of work for you spread over months."

"So what do you think I should charge David I said? 50 thousand rupees?"

"More like XXXX $ Mum," he said.

My mind boggled and I wrote back saying I wanted XX $ upfront put into my grand daughter Alaina's College fund. The other half once I was done into Natalie's college fund.  And I began -- what a roller coaster ride it has been for me. 
The reason I did this was because when my son Andrew needed a 2 lakh bond to be furnished by St. John's Medical College incase he did not do his village service and my Dad who did not have the money at the time, did a quick calculation and invested an FD in his name which would finally mature into 2 lakhs. Andy has been forever grateful to his grandparents for that. We never had that kind of money as parents ever. The boys always earned their education seats on merit.

One of Davids apple trees loaded with fruit.

So inbetween gardening in his beautiful garden I started writing in the room Rashme set up for me with a desk that looked out onto the woods beyond the house. I cannot go anywhere without my DELL laptop which Andy bought me. Light and easy to carry and probably is the 4th laptop I have had. A Toshiba was my first -- solid and dependable.

So, I work by writing down the contents and chapters first and then flesh out each chapter and maybe shift them around. The shifting and changing names of chapters is a continuous process as I work.

 

Andy and family all set for a Triathlon in S Carolina.

I was relaxed after spending time with all the kids and was glad to get my teeth into a project which I would enjoy working. The very first chapter leapt out and grabbed me with the fact that the boy had gone to Loyola College, Madras in the '60's for the job of a peon and the principal just by chance saw his marks card and said two words -- "Admit Him!" Loyola had been Dads pre-university college too.

I have always believed education plays a huge role in anyone's life and here was a story that I was going to write about a poor boy who hardly had proper food to eat, educates himself out of the slum into the highest echelons of the IIT Madras and onwards and upwards into the US. My Dad always said, God helps those who help themselves and here was an inspirational story which I immersed myself into -- writing it into 28 chapters in flat TWO months!

The Asian Paradise Flycatcher that visits every winter!
 

Like the Flycatcher that visits every winter, I put on my writing cap and wrote and wrote, pounding away at the chapters and was done with all 28 chapters including the synopsis and the Afterword. The flycatcher has come and gone back to the Himalayas and I feel vindicated that whoever talks about getting a writers block is someone who cannot write. Thats it!

Baking Coconut Bhaat inbetween writing!

I am a professional editor but I still believe I need a peer review done on my work. So my  sweet and generous friend Sheila Kumar will definitely professionally review my work before it goes to the publishers.  Sheila and Keerti Ramachandra will have a glance too and then armed with my two girl friends views the publishers shall publish.

Lets travel the length and breadth of the US to launch my book. Really?? I start receding into my computer, as I am more attached to my desk today. Travel for me today is just visiting my boys and ofcourse to Goa to check on the old homestead. Thats it. I have traveled all over the world for conferences and have exhausted my travelling trainers forever.

 My bird clock with its bird calls kept me company while I wrote!

Now I will be glad if this mans story goes out across the world telling people that it is ONLY with education you can change your life. What a guy, I really admire his grit and determination even with being so ill now.
 He echoes what my parents drilled into us and we drilled into the boys and now they are drilling into their kids. While I feel happy that I could contribute to their University fund.

Apple picking in Jetta Farms, S Carolina

 

The orchards stretch out behind us!

Let's go apple picking this weekend”!”said Annika. “Jetta Farms is a great place to go to and they have 23 varieties of apples to pick.

So we piled into the huge Pilot Andy has especially bought to ferry a crowd of family members. 

Seven of us fitted perfectly well into it and were off after lathering ourselves with sunscreen and bug spray. The bug bites are not funny and rather than suffer I quietly listen to my Doc son and DIL to spray on the bug repellent.

                                              The apple trees are just 8 years old!

Off we went on the 1 ½ hour drive to Hendersonville with the winding roads once we were climbing in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Jetta Mountain Farm grows apples, peaches, blue and black berries, & more in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains. But as we drove in we were shocked to see the number of visitors and cars at the venue. Getting a parking space for these huge American cars is tough. But being a 400 acre farm we quickly found a spot to park.

Inside we picked up baskets to pick our blueberries, blackberries and apples in. One has to pay for each basket so we went armed with 4 baskets for us. Not cheap judging by Indian conversion rates!

                      Rose Gala were all ripe and ready for picking!

The bushes were a little while away from the large club house with tables and food to be bought. We wanted to pick fruit rather than eat first. I was sure I would fill my stomach with fruit as we were allowed to eat as much as we wanted. But we could take only what fitted in our baskets home. Can't imagine such honesty in India. 

We waited in a que till a wagon rolled up with a typical hill-billy long bearded guy driving it to our destination. They had a large number of hired help which is quite strange for the US guiding us and making sure we were helped to find what we wanted. 

The black berry bushes were all planted to one side with the bushes very professionally tied upwards with stakes for us pickers to get at easily. At first we felt –”Ooh! There are no berries to pick, they have all been picked by others who came in early.”But after searching in the lower rows we got enough to eat as well as to pick and fill our two baskets.

The wagons which ferried us from the club house to the fruit picking areas!

The blueberry bushes were easy to pick from as not many people liked blueberries.We had such a good time picking them and stuffing our faces at the same time. They are tiny and blue and delicious! To our luck there were lots of fruit unlike the blackberries and so we had a great time filling our baskets with them. Of course after the black berries most of the gang headed for the main area to order food and drink.

The bushes were laid out professionally and landscaped.

The apples were close to the black berry bushes and so we collected apples on our way out. Only the Gala and the Honey Crisp were ripe and ready for picking.  All the other trees were cordoned off with board sayings “Do Not pick – unripe! Which made complete sense to us Mango and chickoo farmers back home in India. 

Hundreds of black berries all getting ripe in the sun

It was hot and sticky by the time we headed back in a wagon. Many fellow wagon riders had carried flower bouquets which they had picked. There was no way I was going to do that as the flowers were zinnias and Cosmos. Not my favourite choice of flower.

Apple Cider donuts were popular and were on sale everywhere. Sadly being diabetic I cannot touch any of the sweet stuff including the cider. But then the hot dogs and pulled pork are in plenty and I love the sweet potato chips and fried okra (lady finger) to go with it or the sweet kale salad.

We headed home, hot and  tired and ready for a nap before we headed out for dinner to the neighbours.

 

 

 

 

It's exciting apple time

 

The first apple blooms in Hoskote

The excitement in the whole village of Kuruballahalli was palpable. Apple trees growing and fruiting in the deep South of India? That can't be! But it CAN! So let me go bak to where it all began!

Another species flowering as well.

The door bell rang one day and there was a DHL guy with a large package. One of my sons usual buys I thought as I carried the unwieldly package in.  Tearing it open Steve yelled out -- Ma I think this is something for you, not me!

We stood speechless looking at a dozen or more bare root saplings minus any leaves. I wondered what they were but looking at the tags on them I realised they were apple graft saplings and probably sent by someone who knows what an avid gardener I am.

Literally just bare sticks with bare roots packed and sent in their dormant state

They were literally sticks with no leaves and bare rooted. I had learned all about bare root saplings in the UK  with my son David as there you can buy bare root fruit tree saplings even in the super market. And here was a huge bag full of both apples as well as figs sent to me by a really generous friend.

Apples begin to appear in 6 months.

The bare rooted sticks which we planted with much trepidation and doubt suddenly began to get an abundance of leaves and shot up way over my head and even my husbands tall 6 ft. it was thrilling to see that and by then had found out that it was a Colonel in the army from Calangute, Goa who belonged to my Gardening group of which I was admin who decided to generously gift them to me. Colonel D'Silva who hails from Calangute and owns family property there took a chance and wanted to see how they would fare in Bangalore.

  Bunches of apples appear!

He is a skilled grafter and so every one of the grafts he sent me has taken. Here I want to add that I gave one to a chef friend and it died. I gave another to a tenant and it died and the third I planted on the terrace and it died! But every single one we planted in Hoskote, just took to the red soil of the farm and flourished and grew and are fruiting happily.

Now we are waiting to see if they turn red and remain true to type. Cant wait to get my teeth into them!