Shiuli Season

 

When we moved into the ground floor apartment in Gurgaon, one of the first trees we planted was the Shiuli, more commonly known as the Harshingar or Parijat. Though my mother always had a shiuli plant in her well-maintained container garden, it had been a cherished wish of mine to have a shiuli tree of our own. Those lusciously fragrant dainty white flowers with their characteristic orange stems that fell as a carpet at the first touch of the sun tugged at my heartstrings. The sheer number of flowers laden on a tree planted directly in soil took the experience to another level. Those flowers and their heady fragrance held a lot of pleasant memories - of pujo, of the change of seasons and the onset of autumn, of my very identity as a Bengali. 

Shiuli flowers from our tree

The shiuli is a fairly large and tall tree, and an evergreen. It grows rapidly in the monsoon and requires a good pruning, so the flowers can come by autumn. But the flowering happens for only about a month in the entire year. And that month coincides with the peak festival season in most parts of India. Another reason why a glimpse of those flowers has happy associations.

Now the shiuli we planted in our front lawn started flowering right from the second year, giving us handfuls of white and orange every morning during season. As soon as the first rays of the sun touched the flowers, they would start dropping off, creating a fragrant carpet on the grass underneath. So we had a tradition of picking these flowers early morning, as soon as one was through with the morning ablution. Or sometimes between sips of hot tea. It was a revered tradition since the Bengali associate the shiuli flowering with the rise of the Divine Feminine.

Family tradition of Shiuli picking

But each morning as I plucked the shiuli, a few flowers invariably landed on the aloe vera shrub next to it. And aloe has thorns. Every attempt to reach the fragile shiuli flowers and brush them off the aloe reminded me of simple life lessons.

That much like life, the good and bad, the soft and the prickly, always show up together. And we have to navigate through the thorns to get to the beautiful flowers. Just like in life we have to wade through the unpleasant doggedly to get to enjoy a span of charming times. Then again, life is mostly mundane; the high points come only once in a while, like the festive season. And like the flowers of the shiuli. 

So enjoy the good while it lasts, like the month-long shiuli season.

Chorchori Chronicles

Traditionally the Bengali staple mixed veg preparation called chorchori is supposed to have potatoes and spinach along with any three seasonal vegetables. As my mother taught me, there are five main players, hence the alternate name paanch-mishuli. So in winters, veggies like radish and cauliflower routinely make it to the chorchori mix, while in summers one finds bitter gourds, brinjals and pumpkins getting added.

Now here I was cooking chorchori in the rains, so the essential spinach was missing. It is anyway advisable not to consume these greens during monsoon as they spoil faster and host a few creepy crawlies. So I decided to try leaves from my moringa tree instead. Totally not kosher, as any Bengali mashima would tell you! 

Moringa tree in the backyard 

But while being experimental I discovered that the moringa leaves added an interesting nutty flavour to the chorchori. Also since they grow high above the ground unlike spinach, their leaves do not get spoilt by the rain. And, their health benefits are many. 

A closer view of our moringa forest

Moringa is a hardy tree, pretty resistant to the vagaries of the weather. Then why not give a modern twist to the traditional chorchori and enjoy it every season. If the spinach is unable to pull through our current climate change, an alternative is on hand already.

Notes From The Backyard - II

 

The Sunbirds' Story

Our old friends - the Purple Sunbird couple - returned this year to raise their family in our home again. But this time they chose the backyard to expand their brood. And from all the options available to them in our rather expansive backyard (including a man-made hanger similar to last year's hen chime), the sunbirds chose the bare, flimsy-looking branches of the Laburnum for making their precious nest. The nest was so low that it was at my eye level, and we were scared of potential attacks by predators once the eggs hatched.

The original nest of the sunbirds

Well, nature has its own ways and who are we to question that! The bare branches of the Laburnum soon filled out with new leaves, providing the perfect coverage that was required for the nest. All was going well - the eggs were laid and hatched on time, and the nest was sturdy enough to withstand occasional gusts of wind. Till one afternoon the unthinkable happened.... the leaf to which the nest was tied dried up, shrivelling in the hot loo winds, and fell to the ground, taking the nest with it. But the sunbird babies were lucky and landed on one of our plant pots. All this while the parents were blissfully unawares!

The makeshift nest in a cardboard box 

With the diminishing evening light, we swung into action. A cardboard box was quickly procured to house the nest with the babies, a hole cut in the middle so the sunbird parents could safely latch on, and this makeshift nest promptly tied up at the same place as the original nest so the parents could easily find it.

Thankfully, the parents warmed up to the new arrangement soon and started feeding the startled babies in right earnest. 

But our joy was short-lived as the very next morning, one of the babies got impatient and in trying to chase its mother, fell out of the nest. As we ran inside to get something to pick it up from the hot floor, in all probability the garden gecko had a swift feast. Saddened by the loss we kept an eagle eye on the remaining two sunbird babies.

Comfortably ensconced in the new nest

And predictably in the next couple of weeks they jauntily flew out of the makeshift nest.

The last sunbird baby on our drying stand after flying out 

Another year, another happy ending!

Notes From The Backyard - I

Mango Out, Laburnum In

It is incredible how the passage of time brings about changes - in people and in places. Sometimes the change is quick and therefore more evident, and at other times it evolves at its own pace, slowly but surely, before one suddenly realises that things have changed. The same can be seen in our backyard.

As I wrote in some of my previous posts (that you can read here and here), the lush mango tree was the centrepiece of our backyard. Once that came down, the place looked a little barren, almost lacking character. But it also made the house feel much hotter, with no green canopy providing any shade. So last monsoon we decided to plant an amaltas or yellow laburnum tree in place of the mango.

Yellow Laburnum sapling - June 2023

Though many friends suggested we plant another fruit tree, but given the propensity for termite infestation in the area, we chose a flowering tree instead. Amaltas is also appropriate for the arid climate and clayey soil of Gurugram, and hence a locally viable species.

Yellow Laburnum in April 2024

Its abundant blossoms in summer, hanging merrily in bunches of bright yellow, look so beautiful as they spread a sweet scent in the air. So our vote went to the laburnum.

Purple sunbird nest hanging from a Laburnum branch 

Now barely a year old, the tree is already housing its first nest, all thanks to the sunbird family. Augurs well for the tree and the home, I hope! 🤞🏼🤞🏼

Celebrating April

 

April is always a busy and festive sort of month in our home. Sharing with you some glimpses of the month...

The first week we celebrate a birthday, and the next week we mark the anniversary of our move along with the start of the Bengali new year. 

This is also the month when the onset of summer becomes evident and the garden is full of the seasonal blossoms before the hot winds of May and June make everything barren. 

Our home has always been blessed with bowls full of sweet-smelling blossoms -- shiulis in autumn and bel or jasmine in summers. A tradition started by my mother and one that we happily continue.

For this year's new year celebration we served square rava idlis along with avocado on toast, a first for us. The avo guacamole turned out delicious and creamy and the idli-chutney combo made a hearty meal. Of course we prepared the traditional payesh too but forgot to click a picture.

Magical Milestone

Today we completed five years of living in our current abode. Five years that passed rather quickly, I must admit! 

Much water has flown under the bridge since we came in.... and nowhere is the growth more apparent than in the way we have settled into a routine about everything, despite the frequent changes that we seem to face here. And of course, the growth can be seen in the children - from gangly teenagers loathe to changing schools in their higher classes, they gracefully dealt with a pandemic, a few losses, and a plethora of life lessons. And have now transformed into beautiful young adults who make us both happy and proud. But I digress...

Us in 2019

Today, on the auspicious occasion of the harvest festival Baisakhi, we had moved in five years back with dreams in our eyes and excitement in our hearts. Many of those dreams materialised, while some surprises were sprung at us too. But then, such is life - a mix of sweet and sour! 

Us in 2024

As we stepped out on the front porch today to enjoy the rainy afternoon, an amazing experience unfolded. A large bunch of rosy starlings chose to present their magical dance in the sky right before our eyes. 

Watching their mystical murmuration right over our heads seemed like a divine gift to mark our milestone in this abode. And perhaps a portent of things to come... But we all were so absorbed in watching the spectacle unfold that we didn't realise the camera wasn't recording. Such divine experiences are meant to be remembered only by the mind's eye!

Another Kitchen Makeover

If you look back through this blog, I had shared a kitchen-related post way back in November 2020. Much has changed around the kitchen since then as it seems to be the one place in the house that requires constant work.

Kitchen in 2019

To start with, the house next door got sold a little over a year back. The new owners wanted to carry out renovations as per their taste. Since one of the kitchen walls is shared, their over-the-top tile work had immediate repercussions in ours. The dampness caused one wall to peel through the year, barely six months after I had a patchwork paint job done for the peeling in 2022.

Meanwhile the adjoining wall with a wooden cabinet fared worse. It suffered an acute termite infestation and the cabinet had to be discarded, leaving behind a marked wall.

Missing cabinet - 2023

We had to rearrange all the crockery and stocks that were in the discarded cabinet. We also got a made-to-order iron rack in the kitchen that could hold the essentials like flour and rice.

Kitchen in 2024

Earlier this month when a neighbour was getting a house-painting job done, we got our kitchen a fresh coat too. The slab is still crowded but at least everything looks spring-cleaned.

My learning from these repeated episodes of kitchen renovation: the modular style just does not work here for the long term. Local workmen fool residents into believing that the newest materials are superior and will make a difference but the reality is far from that. In a place prone to general dampness, termite attacks, and even flooding, the only viable option is a metal and stone kitchen. The kitchen in my parents' DDA apartment fared much better, lasting well over 35+ years!