Sorry, Dear Carrot!

I have no idea what all sorts of POVs and terrains this otherwise innocent research in Deep Ecology in Green Studies is taking me to😂

Setting the proverbial carrot and stick apart, I thought carrots were crunchy, juicy vegetables and didn't mind snacking on them, snatching one from the crate while my home minister is busy slicing one by one on a cutting board, mostly on autopilot, multitasking. Now I need to think twice before I stretch my hand for one quite habitually😜🏃🏽‍♂️🙏.

And this morning, I heard my wife chopping something. It is an easy guess to know as nothing else but carrot; my hand vicariously went down in defence of something so valuable. At a time of sensing danger, the quickest mode switch happens in favour of self-preservation; that is true for any animal, even plants too in their own ways, as famously as touch-me-not, and man is no exception.

That reminds me of an anecdote a doctor friend of mine once recounted from his student life. He was in an anatomy practical session; the cadaver was ready, covered, apparently a new one for the fresh batch. The professor entered the room assuming his busy ways and roles and asked to remove the covering sheet. He grabbed a surgical blade and cut off its cock (penile shaft). Everyone around set a few steps back quickly and instinctively held their package, bending down in self-protection, including the girls, with shuddering cries. Even after years, it pains somewhere every time he revisits this incident, probably for me too after listening to this story. Fear of losing the big card can cost us dear; therefore, vicariously reaching out for self-assurance.

In fact, every soundbite from the kitchen tells us something; the sound of a knife hitting the cutting board, downing across a veg, is a signature tune that we will have a homecooked meal today. The pace it hits tells us what is being victimised; the quick rhythm of onion slicing, slower frequency of carrot slicing and neither slow nor fast tuk tuk of cucumber slicing all have their own messages…here it is me now, and no, no, it is my turn to go ground, or we will have a salad along for the lunch. The metallic cooking sounds herald that mealtime is not far. A former colleague I shared my office with once told me he wouldn’t like a tea without hearing the chatter of the teaspoon with the glass as a title music for a television program…think of szhoo szhoo of DD news if you are a Gen Y. It perfects his craving and timing for a tea as the bell salivates Pavlova’s dog.

The given page shot is from page 231 of Garden Plots: The Canadian Women Writers and Their Literary Gardens by Shelly Boyd, and this poem is by Lorna Crozier, the gardener poet who wrote the poem "Carrots" as part of her "The Sex Lives of Vegetables" series in the book The Garden Going On Without Us.

All the spices of Arabia

I have lived in Saudi Arabia for 15 years. During this time, I haven’t seen them generally grow any perennial spices, though they do cultivate a few herbs for their culinary needs and home remedies. However, they do know and have all the condiments and spices they need in their traditional markets, let alone in modern-day department stores and shopping centers downtown, where they have all the fruits and vegetables from around the world. I have often spent time counting the variety and number of items offered at such spice stores. They just don’t sell the items for their Arabian coffee or ‘Qahva’ as they call it. They have everything, and many of them, interestingly, have their origin in India, but I haven’t seen them in India. I must keep my eyes open wide enough to see all that is there at home first. William Cowper knew that variety is the very spice of life. What is then the variety of spices?  

I can name a good number of them, but not all. If you would like to challenge yourselves, please zoom in and list them. If you get 90 out of 100, you are an expert. It includes many of the ones we used to grow at home in India when I was growing up. To my surprise, as we went shopping for a party, the shopkeeper I know showed me a sort of dried moss with feathery, exfoliated strips of bark from some plants. It is a sort of dried moss, and it comes from India. My mum has no idea of its culinary use; my grandmother probably didn't even care for it. But it adds flavor and fragrance to Kabsa. We tried it and loved what it added to the food we made with it. Much later, I realized that it is a lichen, often found on tree trunks, especially on areca nut and jack trees, where I come from. A modern art piece featuring symbiotic artwork with algae, moss, or cyanobacteria, with mysterious brushstrokes. Ms Mangala, a senior teacher I recently became acquainted with, told me that the absence of lichen is a key indicator of air pollution in the locality.

In such shops, seasoned masterminds know each of their long-term customers' tastes and preferences. They prepare the ready-mix powder for any dish on demand, measure, add more or less of their chosen ingredients, sift and grind, and then pack it airtight, with special instructions for use and storage, all the while exchanging news from their villages and towns. Customization is not a new marketing gimmick in those traditional markets. It is a lifelong bond, and they are a family.

Saudis may be using it to add spice to their lives in the desert, where they live by rearing sheep and camels in otherwise hostile climatic conditions, with the weather becoming extreme for most of the year. Dried ginger, sesame seeds, cinnamon, coffee husks, turmeric, cardamom, dried limes, mahlab, mastic, nutmeg, rosewater, shaybah, blackseed, black pepper, dried rose petals, dried onion, saffron, flake seeds, sumac, tamarind, zatar, cloves, cumin, mint and nigella seed make up that long list. You may buy most of them either ground or unground. 

They know the friends and foes of their catch, so they do not even carry them home all in the same package. The same rule applies in use, too. Certain combinations are not supposed to go down together through the throat. Don't go and quiz them on amensalism, incompatible food (virudha ahaara), or food taboos, though. As the popular saying goes, the spices are the poetry of the kitchen, and the same spices help us decode the history of our civilization. The Nutmeg’s Curse by Amitav Ghosh is just one case in point to explore in this regard.

"Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened"

      "Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened"  Anatole France, the Nobel Laureate in literature in 1921, cannot be wrong. I have no idea whether he has kept an animal, but I firmly believe what he said is true. As we moved to a new house not far from where I was born and brought up, I took many things with me that I held dear. It includes various collections, such as books, stamps, coins, letters, tools, plants, and the like. However, it was not easy to leave behind many of the domestic animals we grew up with, like goats, rabbits, chickens, cats, a dog, and countless wild ones.

However, it has been a rustic idea to introduce chickens, ducks, or rabbits to our backyard in a newly settled neighbourhood. There was no proper fencing in place to enjoy the status of a nice neighbour. Nor did we like the idea of raising them in confinement. But the idea that there must be some animals living around us, sharing our yard, began to knock inside me to an irresistible frequency. Without thinking much, we tried our luck with ducks in 2021 with a small flock of two drakes and four hens, as I was forced to enjoy a longer vacation at home due to the COVID-19 lockdown and couldn't fly back to work.

         It was a beautiful scene, they forage for grains and insects with their extended bills across the yard. Quick were they in sensing both prey and predators. They were profuse layers, and my kids enjoyed their wacky ways and chased them from a makeshift, pond-like water hole, fluttering both their wings, holding them straight up, standing vertically to shake off the water droplets, easing them from the weight of the drench, and grooming themselves perched over a boulder, log of wood or a raised veg patch. One among the flock was a Vigova, the big, white, muscular beauty among ducks from Vietnam. Interestingly, Vigova was bred by interbreeding to meet the needs of war-torn Vietnam. They made the best use of deserted waterlogged trenches dug during the war and thankfully fed the people back to health. He commanded the flock

    We had one to five eggs almost daily, even to share with neighbours, unless it rained incessantly. That was an educational experience for kids. Kids became curious and looked up more about their newfound winged friends, and came up with wide eyes full of new knowledge: that ducks have a field of vision of up to 340 degrees and a blind spot of 20 degrees behind their heads. However, that love affair didn't last long. The authorities eased the regulations, and the airports reopened for international air travel. We packed up, gave the ducks away to one of the neighbours, and flew back.

    As I settled back home again, the same thoughts revisited, and this time, we started with rabbit. The first batch came with a New Zealand white mom and her six adorable kittens with snowy white coats and bright pinkish eyes. Neighbors came to visit as if we had a new born, some came with carrots as treats to the hutch. Ansu later found out that it is only a popular myth that carrots are the natural diet of rabbit planted by cartoons and that is not true. When I was a child, our rabbits never knew what carrot was. That rabbit too didn't last long, as the rabbit hutch smelled foul and attracted rat snakes driving my wife crazy and kids were terrified to see rat snakes tattling trapped in the safety net. Having learned the lesson hard way, that nothing works without family support. That left with  me with one option to give them a farewell. The pet shop was happy to receive them back but my eyes caught hold of another one across the cages on display. I will be back soon for you.