Revolutionary Initiative

Revolutionary initiative (The Hindu, Aug 28th 2005)

SMITA JAIN

"THE solution for a major health hazard that afflicts our entire nation," says Anshu Gupta of Goonj, "is as simple as providing clean cloth." In his matter-of-fact manner, Anshu went on to explain the modus operandi behind Delhi-based Goonj's latest revolutionary cloth-recycling initiative: collecting donated cotton cloth to create sanitary napkins for millions of women across the country.

Unconventional

Goonj's history and programmes show that the organisationand its founder Anshu Gupta, are anything but ordinary. While many in the development sector tend to seek macro-solutions for social issues, Goonj was founded in 1999 with the simple goal of meeting the clothing needs of less-privileged people by utilising clothing donated by those more privileged. In this way, the organisation revolves around a widely known but seldom-implemented philosophy: one person's rags can indeed be someone else's riches, especially in context of India's gigantic urban-rural divide.

Cloth, Anshu stresses, is one of three basic necessities for humankind, yet few agencies give it much importance. "We document the number of people who die of floods and of earthquakes. Yet how often has the Government ever counted the numbers who die — mind you, preventable deaths — of the cold everyday during Delhi's winters?"

Goonj's School-to-School programme, which recently won the Changemaker's Innovation Award for its excellence, involves a partnership between a privileged urban school and a rural school, in which urban students from give their rural counterparts school paraphernalia that they would normally have discarded. Schools that wish to participate in the programme are given reading material — printed on one-side used paper — to distribute. Thus, children are sensitised on issues facing their less-privileged counterparts, and are encouraged to think about the value of their own education and the ways they can help children in less-fortunate circumstances.

Goonj's latest project to utilise donated cotton clothing for creating sanitary napkins is based on the knowledge that many women — and hence their families — suffer major health consequences on account of using unhygienic cloth during menstruating days. This can lead to infections, which can cause multi-organ failure, infertility, and in certain circumstances, even cervical cancer. The consequences can also be multi-fold, as an infection can have an effect not only on the woman, but on the lives of her children born and unborn. The situation in India is not one to be taken lightly; indeed, India has one of the highest infant and maternal mortality rates in the world.

Needless to say, few women and even fewer men would dare to address this issue, preferring instead to keep the "dirty laundry in the house". Therefore, it came as a surprise to hear this Ashoka Fellow nonchalantly discussing the motivations behind his latest endeavour. "I have travelled far and wide across India, and everywhere, the situation is the same. Since menstruation is considered to be `pollution', women use the dirtiest cloth in the house — cloth that has been used to clean the floors, the bathrooms. And because it is imperative that the cloth be hidden from the neighbours, it does not ever see the light of day.

First step

Furthermore, there are usually two or three women in a household all using the same cloth. "And in this context of shame, of extreme health-risks, we often overlook this reality and give them lectures on reproductive health and maternity care. We still have a long way to go, but providing some clean cloth is a good first step." In fact, the gravity of the situation struck Anshu most deeply when a village woman in Uttar Pradesh told him how her sister had died of tetanus acquired through a cloth she had used during her menstruating days. The cloth was from a sari blouse, on which the hooks had not been removed.

Goonj is seeking donations of clean cotton clothing and bed sheets, which can be donated at any of Goonj's collection centres. They are also looking for funds to purchase of a sterilising machine to clean the donated cloth. If you would like more information on Goonj's activities or would like to donate, contact Anshu at 98681-46978 or anshu_goonj1@yahoo.co.in, or access www.goonj.info

Read the article: http://www.hindu.com/mag/2005/08/28/stories/2005082800100400.htm

An Indian in Shanghai

The Hindu, April 10th 2005

Hesistant metropolis or a strange land of bicycle avalanches? SMITA JAIN discovers a brand new China.

AP

For peace of mind -- legendary Chinese figures representing (from left) prosperity, happiness, and career achievement.

I NEVER expected to live in China, so when I found myself heading to Shanghai last summer to work at a procurement firm, I wasn't sure what to expect. I'd met few who'd been to the country, and from second and third-hand reports I'd heard, I imagined a strange land of bicycle-avalanches and where vegetarians ate grass. From what I'd read about China's tumultuous history, I expected Shanghai to be a hesitant metropolis inching its way toward capitalist glory, somewhere on the brink between the Past and Present, and encumbered by a rebellious populace.

My arrival at the gigantic, glass-panelled, world-class Pudong Airport and my subsequent ride to the city on the Maglev (the fastest train in the world), were enough to shatter many of my misperceptions. Gigantic billboards flashed latest London-Paris fashions, while others glorified the latest Chinese icons. As I soaked in the innumerable skyscrapers, malls and modern cityscape, I realised that this was in fact a Brand New China that was unapologetically racing forward on the global superhighway.

The confluence of concrete with the teeming populace and street-vendors gave Shanghai a decidedly NYC-meets-Mumbai feel, but with a major difference: the absence of English. I'd visited parts of the world where English is not the vernacular, but the psychological impact of walking through streets with signs, street names, and general conversation solely in Mandarin, was unparalleled.

Curiosity about India

At work, I received an excited welcome. Most of my colleagues had never met any Indians before, and they were curious to learn about Indian culture. Some had seen Bollywood films during their childhood, and were enamoured by the joyful songs and dances. During lunch break on my first day, they crowded around me as I opened up my spartan lunch, and the questions came pouring out: Why was I vegetarian? Would I be able to bear children? What are Indian languages like? Why doesn't India institute a one-child policy like China? Could India "catch up" with China?

As I waded through the questions, peering at the bright-eyed, curious faces around me, it struck me that for the first time, I was in a country nearly-untouched by Indian culture. While they were proud of China's achievements, they had positive impressions about India. India, they believed, was culturally and economically similar to China, and was thus a key partner for China in its bid to offset Western domination. They believed they had much to learn from India in terms of IT and English-skills, but when it came to food ... Indians sure were missing out on some tasty eel meat and chicken feet.

Eating out

AFP

Growing economic prosperity -- a bird's eye view of Shanghai.

The few vegetarian restaurants in the city were undoubtedly the saving grace for my vegetarian taste buds. (I soon found that to expect vegetarian food in a local eatery without a basic command of Chinese bordered on the preposterous.) Shared meals at typical family-style restaurants provided interesting cuisine etiquette lessons. Dishes are served on a revolving plate in the centre of the table, and food is deftly picked up with chopsticks as it comes by. Admittedly, chopstick-consternation led me to the ingenious idea of putting servings directly on my plate, and a gentle nudge from a colleague brought home the lesson that it is considered "barbarous" to actually place a helping on your plate. Fortunately, I didn't have to resort to a grass-diet; my Chinese friends made sure that lip-smacking tofu and vegetable dishes were aplenty.

Aware of the difficulties of getting settled in Shanghai without any knowledge of Mandarin, my colleagues often went out of their way to make sure I had no problems. This warmth and hospitality was echoed throughout my further travels in China, and was accentuated after I began speaking basic Mandarin. I remember getting into a cab one afternoon, only to find the driver turning to look at me curiously. He said excitedly in Mandarin, "Indian films! Song, dance, very good!" after which he burst into Amitabh-esque dance gyrations. On a train to Erlian in Northern China, fellow passengers crowded around me to stare and listen to my broken Mandarin. They immediately broke out into smiles, shook my hands and graciously complimented me on my command of the language! Local people whom I came in contact with were extremely pleased at even meagre attempts to speak Mandarin, and asked many questions about my heritage.

Though Shanghai provides an interesting window into modern China, my travels outside highlighted diverse facets of Chinese culture. In the beautiful water-towns of Tong-Li and Hangzhou, I gained an insight into slower, more traditional patterns of life. A climb up the jagged, perilously steep pilgrimage mountains of Huangshan and Taishan to see the awesome ancient Buddhist at their peaks, gave me a glimpse of China's deeply religious past.

With its abundant natural beauty, world-class cities and hospitable people, China undoubtedly fulfils most travellers' aspirations. Probe a little deeper, however, and you'll probably find more than you bargained for.

Vishalla: A Museum and Restaurant

(Housecalls Magazine, December 2005)

Imagine a place that combines relaxation with rural charm and home-cooked food, yet is located within the confines of a city. Sound impossible? Not so in Ahmedabad, where designer Surendra Patel has inspired a new generation of ‘feel good’ restaurants with his brainchild Vishalla Restaurant. The restaurant, located on the Ahmedabad-Baroda highway, has become a must-visit for visitors to Ahmedabad not only on account of its lip-smacking (and healthful!) rendition of traditional Gujarati food served in a village-like setting, but also for its unique Utensil Museum. The museum, which houses over 4000 pieces of traditional Indian houseware, is the only one of its kind in the world and is worth a visit. Providing something for all, Vishaala Restaurant offers an exciting experience and a sumptuous feast, not only for the stomach.

The idea for Vishalla restaurant, says Surendra, came from observing the ever-growing presence of stress and tension in urban dwellers’ lives. “Over the years, I observed that city folk always were always seeking places go to after work in the evenings – maybe to a garden, a restaurant, a temple, or a pub – anywhere, just to relax. Yet even many of these places afforded little mental peace. I thought to myself, why not create a restaurant with an ambience of relaxation and a natural setting, for a tension-free night out, away from the clamor and clang of the city?” Thus, in 1978, he began Vishalla Restaurant with the intention of creating a place of village-like serenity, openness and close connection to nature, as a kind of ‘retreat’ for urban folk. “The restaurant aims to connect urban dwellers to nature in a meaningful way,” says Surendra. “We utilize natural elements as far as possible, and minimize use of artificial material like plastic and steel. The restaurant is open air. We even use a natural air freshener,” he says with a grin, referring to the use of loban, a tree extract that is used in villages to ward off insects and purify the air.

Vishalla -- which means vast in Hindi – stands true to its name; there are no physical barriers in the form of doors or walls. This architectural peculiarity accentuates the feeling of vastness and openness, Surendra says, “and signifies the freedom of the mind”. The entire complex is situated out-of-doors, yet the artful use of bamboo, dirt lanes and the natural cover of dense foliage leaves one with the sense that is one is in a space in between the indoors and outdoors. A diya-lit entrance way beckons one to the interiors; traditionally-clad Gujarati men, replete with colorful dhotis and turbans, offer hearty greetings and provide a brief introduction on the gastronomic delights to come. The ambience created by the bamboo, low-lighting and greenery set an ambience that is at once peaceful and ethereal.

The Museum is housed in a partially-covered bamboo construction; its natural elements-inspired décor makes it seem as though it has just sprung up from the earth. A Shivaji temple surrounded by a pool of water sits majestically at its interior, heightening the aura of antiquity that envelops the place. The utensils, astonishing in their number and variety, line the four walls of the museum. The collection began as a hobby of Surendra’s; it was a striking incident that sparked off the idea for the creation of a museum. Soon after Vishalla was opened, Surendra went to a village in Rajasthan to collect a few ornamental vessels. There, he found the antique seller melting most of his collection for sale of the metal. Further travels showed the same thing happening in other parts of the country, and he was saddened that artifacts of such cultural and aesthetic value were being lost purely for monetary reasons. His designer-instincts overcame him, and he decided that he would begin a museum for traditional houseware from across the nation. In this way, he believed that he could not only showcase the fine craftsmanship of the utensils, but also lay the foundation for their preservation and appreciation for generations to come.

The collection - containing pieces as diverse as jewelry cases, dowry boxes, cauldrons, ancient idli makers, betel-nut crackers, treasures of maharajahs and camel saddles - is also diverse in terms of its geographical representation and antiquity. For one who might think that pieces from Gujarat might dominate the collection, it is not so; nearly 60% are from southern regions of India. The utensils range from 75 years to 1000 years in antiquity with the bulk being 150-200 years old. The oldest piece in the collection, a large copper pot, has been shown to be over 1000 years old. The well-informed guide, Mr. D. B. Patel, explains that Brahmi inscriptions – an Indian language that died not less than 1100 years ago – engraved in the interiors of the pot, are testament to its antiquity.

Not only are the pieces qualitatively diverse, Mr. Patel informs me, each is also exceptional in its own way. By way of explanation, he picks up what looks like an aging bell, and demonstrates that it is actually a ‘picnic-cup’ of yesteryears: a cup that contains 12 other cups of varying sizes, perfect for a family outing. Upon learning more about the pieces, one realizes that they are also unique repositories of information about lives of our ancestors. The guide points to a delicately carved brass opium-inhaler whose one end has the face of a snake, while the opposite end is engraved the head of a sheep. “The message is that the opium is equivalent to snake poison. Yet if one does not drink the opium,” he smiles, “one’s head becomes as hard as that of a sheep’s.”

After feasting on the cultural richness, it is time to experience some culinary delights. I am seated cross-legged in front of a low rising table, “which is the proper way according to Ayurveda, as this position keeps the stomach tension-free,” says Surendra. Accentuating the rustic feel, waiters in colorful garb spread leaf-plates and leaf-bowls on the table. I learn that even the food is designed to be calming for the body, being prepared with reduced ghee, oil, chili and salt. “We serve traditional Gujarati food, but as far as possible, we avoid deep-fried foods, preferring our items to be roasted or baked. We make sure to include lots of greens as well as sprouted salads. As far as possible, we also use organic ingredients,” Surendra informs me.

True to his words, a large assortment of vegetables, sprouts, condiments, achaar and chutney arrive as starters. The shaaks (vegetable dishes), made of vegetables often to be found in Gujarati homes – aaloo, channa, parval - arrive next, along with the Gujarati staple of kadhi. Those unfamiliar with Gujarati cooking might be surprised at the light sweetness of each dish; addition of gor (unrefined sugar) is typical of Gujarati cooking. Waiters quickly bring different kinds of roti - roasted thepla, rotlo and bhakra, and urge the abstemious to eat more. The snack dish of sandwich dhokro, a steamed bread-like item layered with chutney, arrives next. For the brave-hearted await the tasty Gujarati sweets of jalebi and dudhi halwa (milk halwa). And to top it all off, there remains the trademark chaas – a thin buttermilk that is lightly salted, served in a terracotta cup.

For those who enjoy a pleasant evening stroll after a satiating meal, the cultural activities spread across the ground are entertaining detours before heading home. Music performances, puppet shows and an art shop offer an interesting look at different facets of Gujarati culture. Those wary of raucous urban tunes dampening the bucolic charm need not worry; only bhajans or folk songs are used, with film songs – and speakers and microphones -- being steadfastly avoided.

While walking out and marveling at the meticulous planning and thinking involved in Vishalla’s setup, I learn that even the exit has been carefully planned. “According to Ayurveda, one should walk 100 steps after a meal. Whether you are a governor or an ordinary person, the exit is designed such that everyone has to walk at least 100 steps to reach it!” Surendra tells me with a twinkle in his eye. If you’re looking to come to Vishalla for a rejuvenating experience in food, nature and culture, it’s definitely bang for the buck. But most of all, it’s worth coming to Vishalla for food for the soul.