Tags:
Journalism of Courage
The Simple Life
has to cut, clean and sing for her supper on an organic farm in the Kutch,
Vijay Shah, a member farmer of the World-Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms WWOOF, an association that encourages organic farming, has opened up his 420-acre aloe vera farm to tourists who wish to pick up the basics of organic agriculture. He doesn8217;t charge a dime for the break. You go to the farm, and work for your bread, butter and shelter.
An eight-hour overnight journey, crumpled on a bus, and a two-hour car ride later, I was at the gates of Shah8217;s enterprise. It looked, well, pretty much the way a farm would look8212;lots of green aloe, dates, plus herbs like oregano and basil, the odd large machine and farm workers.
I was consigned almost immediately, and paired off with New Zealand-based Jennie French, here on an organic vacation.
The tasks on the farm were divided into seasonal phases of sowing, trimming, harvesting etc. In this late winter period, workers were devoted to cutting the patches of aloe vera, and making organic manure. Thankfully, I was enlisted for the relatively sedate cutting function.
I borrowed some old loose string pants from Jennie, managed a sip of tea, and got down to business, sickle in hand.
Two hours of trimming later, most of the aloe was still standing, while we were floundering. The sun8217;s rays burnt holes into my arms, legs and face, which was already nicked and bruised by the thorny plant.
Thankfully, lunch hour was upon us: Bajra rotli and buttermilk. After a quick gulp, we got back to work. The farm women gave instructions: Spread the dried aloe vera leaves for composting within 10 minutes. This bit was a little easier. I8217;m used to deadlines, after all. Then came the tedious bit: Washing. My nap suggestion ruled out, we washed the aloe leaves, each one at least seven times. Once cleaned, the pulp would be distilled and preserved, before being packed off to Mumbai.
Jennie, who8217;d been instructed to remove the thorns, looked at all the wounds we8217;d been inflicted with, and broke into song: Desert Rose. It was a surprising hit with the Kutchi women.
As the sun went down, it was finally time to leave. Hugs and kisses from my newfound farmer friend Jennie, an aaojo come again from the farmers, and the city girl was on her way back home. At the gate, Shah handed me a tin of fresh aloe vera juice8212;a bit of the country to take with me.
Song and Dance
goes on the Bollywood Tour, with folks who got only half the plot.
IF Karan Johar remade Sholay, Gabbar8217;s belt would have a silver lining, Thakur would get his hand sown back, it would be about loving your dacoits, and there would be a happy ending.8217;8217;
Even with the right audience, that8217;s a hard sell joke. But when you bung that sort of thing in front of 21 fresh-off-the-boat literally, mostly middle-aged Germans, expecting appreciation is like looking for gold in the Namib. Still, that was precisely what actor Suresh Menon, and Suniel Shetty8217;s Popcorn Entertainment were hoping to get last week during their Bollywood Tourism tour.
Some 40 people, made up of the bus load of tourists and locals such as myself, were part of a group that was to receive a quick class on the basics of film-making.
As a member of a rather conservative Mallu household, I wasn8217;t allowed to be a member of the Bollywood movie fan club, and as such, haven8217;t watched Sholay, Guide, and many other Hindi must-sees. And I8217;ve never been anywhere even remotely close to a film set. All the same, I had always assumed there was some sort of magic and glory that beckons lakhs of people to Mumbai to try their hand at stardom.
So when my day began on the decrepit Filmistan movie lot in suburban Mumbai, I thanked my mother I was never a fan. It was a slummy shed-infested place, with cheap hoardings, rotting buildings and stray dogs. There, opposite the Central Jail facade, was Popcorn8217;s oddly-christened set8212;the Bollywood Drome.
Inside, it was a styrofoam world of fake pillars and curtains, all in the hyper tones of Chandni Bar, and stinking of pancake make-up and second-hand ideas.
The Popcorn spin wanted to give foreign or NRI Hindi film fans a taste of Bollywood magic, plus lunch, for 100 Rs 4,380.
On a fake set, actors played out the drama of a film set, with everything from a demanding producer and irate director, to histrionic actors and actresses. There was to be an item number, a sad song sequence and, of course, the wedding song finale, with loads of humour and bits of acting. There was also the promise of a round of a 8216;real8217; set and meeting 8216;real8217; stars.
When the show began, with Menon playing the raucous, frisky producer, he had two audiences: The locals and the tourists. Most of our side got the jokes, while on their8217;s, folks were simply unimpressed.
Flaureun, a Berlin-based TV news editor, who was on a cruise, had decided to spend one out of his two-day layover, soaking in some Bollywood flavour.
But he clearly didn8217;t get what was going on. The gags were lost on him, and when Menon made a libellous joke about Karan Johar, poor Flaureun and co blankly stared ahead.
An hour later, while I was cackling away, the entire German contingent walked out.
The ugh quotient kicked in for me when the organisers8212;in an effort to pay homage to their filmi godfather8212;switched on an audio visual starring the forlorn Mr Shetty, spouting the recycled 8220;Bollywood isn8217;t just about glamour8217;8217; speech.
If that wasn8217;t bad enough, the Germans boycotted the planned walk through a 8216;real8217; set the only mildly unique event on the schedule. And there went my one chance to catch a whiff of Bollywood fever, because when the paying folks say no, there8217;s no chance in sight for a hack on a freebie to get what she wants.
At the end, I didn8217;t know who to feel sorry for: The people who8217;d shelled out 100 for gimmicks they couldn8217;t get, or the sorry cast. But maybe there8217;s an idea in there: Anyone for a Rs 100 Bollywood Tour? I think the locals would love it.
