Thursday, August 14, 2014

Finding Watson's Hotel in a sleepy Cumbrian village

- By Deepa Krishnan

Anyone who has been to Kala Ghoda knows the decrepit Esplanade Mansions, popularly called Watsons Hotel.

But not many know what the architects originally envisaged, or how the hotel looked in its heyday. Fewer still know the story of how the hotel was built - a story that begins in a small village in the north-west of England.

Here's the building today: you can easily spot the famous cast iron frame structure, still standing strong. But the building itself is in ruins. This is the side-view of the building:
Here is what this building was originally meant to be. See how gorgeous it looks in this painting! (If you click on the picture, you'll get a bigger view). 
Photo credit: Castle Carrock
If you want to see this painting for real, you have to travel to Cumbria, to a little green village called Castle Carrock. The painting of Esplanade Mansions is hanging in their town hall. Here's what the village of Castle Carrock looks like; it has less than 500 people living in it.
Photo credit: Castle Carrock
The story of Esplanade Mansions actually begins in this little village. Like many good stories, this one also begins with a farmer :) His name was Watson.

The farmer had three sons, but two of them, John and William Watson, left Castle Carrock in the 1840's to start a drapery business in London, dealing in silks and other textiles.

From London, the two brothers migrated to Bombay in 1853. Bombay had developed into a major trading centre by that time; shipping was thriving, land had been reclaimed to expand the city, and links to the Deccan hinterland had been opened to facilitate trade. Perhaps the Watsons thought it made excellent business sense to relocate. I also have another pet theory about this migration to Bombay. Perhaps the Watson brothers attended the Great Exhibition of 1851 in London, at the Crystal Palace? Perhaps they were enchanted with the Indian textiles they saw? Surely the Indian Pavillion was a vision to delight any silk mercer and draper!
Whatever the reason for migration - the two brothers arrived in Bombay in 1853, and set up shop here. They must have struck gold in Bombay - because they soon had three shops here, at Churchgate Street, Hamam Street and Meadow Street. Apparently it still wasn't enough. Within just ten years of arriving in Bombay, the Watson brothers made a grand bid for yet another building site. The original plans submitted for the building included a shop front on the ground floor, offices on the first and second floors, and residences (for themselves, I presume) on the third floor. 

The plans the Watsons submitted conceived of a bold new design - a cast iron frame that was modelled on the Crystal Palace, where the London exhibion was held. Nothing like it had been seen in India before. By 1865, the initial plans for a shop changed; and the Watsons decided to build a grand new 200-room hotel instead. But the cast iron girders remained in the plan. Although there were problems with having the designs approved, the Watsons persevered, and pushed through with their plan.

The design involved the import of hundred of cast iron girders. Arranged from top to bottom, these girders formed a sort of grand metal bird-cage. This sort of design actually exposed bare metal. It was in fact, the first multi-storey habitable building in the world in which all loads, including those of the brick walls, were carried on an iron frame. In that sense, it is the earliest pre-cursor to the modern-day skyscraper.
The crowning glory of the building design was a mansard - a type of roof that actually doubles up as a floor. The architects apparently wanted to cover the top with glass. It would have made a fantastic salon, eh? Or a really fancy penthouse suite for the who's who of Bombay's visitors.
The Watson brothers began to ship materials for the new building into Mumbai. By 1867, many of the materials had arrived; and assembly of the iron framework began on site. By 1869, the hotel was complete - BUT - that beautiful (and impractical) mansard was abandoned along the way. Maybe they ran out of money - or time.

Still, just look at this hotel below! What views of Bombay harbour! This photo is from the 1880s; the only other building at that time in the area was the Sailors' Home in the distance. The wide road you see is the Esplanade; and hence the name of the hotel.
The patch of land on the right of the photo, by the sea, is where the Taj Mahal Palace and Towers eventually came up - but that was not until 1903. Before that, for more than 30 years, Watsons Hotel was the numero uno establishment in the city. Mark Twain stayed here; Kipling wrote about it, and the earliest screening of the Cinematographe in India by the Lumiere Brothers was in this hotel (just one week after it was first screened in Paris).
Of the two brothers, John and William Watson, we know this: William quit the drapery business to become a shipping agent. John Watson remained in the drapery and hotel business; but he returned to the village of Castle Carrock in 1869, just after Watsons Hotel was built. His sons, James Proctor and John Jr, inherited and ran the hotel successfully, until they too returned to Cumbria in 1896 (at the time of Bombay's bubonic plague).

With the owners gone, and with competition from new hotels such as Green's, Majestic, and the Taj, the birdcage hotel went into decline. In 2006, the World Monument Fund placed the hotel under the list of World Endangered Monuments.

Here's a recent photo I clicked; can you see the beautiful Minton floor tiling? The iron girders are still standing strong. The inside of the hotel has been divided up and sub-let to lots of small businesses. Next time you're in the area, pop into the building and take a quick look. And if you want a little challenge, then try to spot the Watsons logo on the outside of the building!

Saturday, July 19, 2014

Fishing ban in the monsoons

- by Deepa Krishnan

A few years ago, I clicked this picture of Koli fisherwomen at the Null Bazaar fish market. It was still the monsoon season, but the ban on fishing was over and fresh local catch was coming to the market.
Koli women at their stalls in Null Bazaar
Traditionally the Kolis have a self-imposed ban on fishing in the monsoons; they stop when the rains make the waters too dangerous and rough, and they commence fishing again on Narli Purnima after offering prayers and a coconut (this year Narli Purnima falls on Aug 10). 

But there is also an official government ban in place, primarily for fish stocks to recover. June to September is the spawning season for many species. Also the ban helps fish to grow bigger, thus realising higher value when the fish eventually come to market. 
Larger catch sizes after the monsoons
Now for the complications: In India, marine resources are a State subject, so each state on the West Coast has a different policy in place. There are different periods of the ban, and also differences in the way the ban is implemented. 

Maharashtra, Goa and Gujarat, have a complete ban; i.e. all types of boats are banned from going into the water. But Karnataka, Kerala and Daman allow traditional non-motorised boats to fish during the ban, as well as boats with small motors below a certain engine size. 
Non-motorised and motorised boats, Worli Fishing Village, Mahim Bay. They must all be moored during the 2 month ban period in Maharashtra.
Gujarat, Maharashtra and Karnataka this year have fishing bans between June 10 and August 10 (2 months). However, Kerala and Goa have different dates. In Kerala, the ban is from June 1 to July 15, that is roughly 45 days. Fishing this year is banned in Goa between June 1 to July 31 (2 months). As a result of differences in the ban, there are routine complaints from fishermen that boats from neighbouring states are venturing into their waters. There is now a strong demand for a common fishing ban period.

Apart from the seasonal fishing ban, the fisheries departments also have rules restricting the total number of fishing boats, fishing methods and types of gear that can be used in backwaters and shallow inshore waters (some types of gear are particularly damaging to juveniles). Mesh sizes are regulated, and there are also species-wise minimum legal lengths for capture. In some areas, fishing is restricted; and in some other areas, fishing is completely banned as they are declared a Marine Protected Area. 
Fisherman showing me catch using large mesh size, Worli
But many of these other restrictions / rules are not implemented in practice; and it is only the seasonal fishing ban which has been consistently implemented in India since the late 1980's. When the ban was initially implemented, studies of catch size and weight in the post-monsoon season showed the benefit of the bans; catch improved significantly. The introduction of seine fishing in the 80's, and its increasing popularity in the subsequent decade (when the fishing bans also came into effect), also helped increase fishing catch enormously.
Seine fishing, or purse-ring fishing. In this method, the boat quickly circles around a school of fish, drops the net, and then the noose is tightened like a purse-string. I clicked this photo in Bekal, Kerala, it is just near the Karnataka border.
In recent years, the catch has tapered off. The reason is not hard to guess: mechanised 'improved' trawling and seine fishing methods are destroying stocks; and even small motorboats have improved their techniques enough to bring in significant fish catches in the monsoons. I read an article recently in the Times, where someone in Goa complained that small boats were bringing in roe-laden mackerel, in the process of spawning.

The solutions are not very clear - it might help to have a longer ban period; consistently implemented across the West Coast, combined with a common set of rules for what types of vessels, gears, fish size etc are permitted. We need, especially, better rules for managing seine fishing and trawling, and we need better policing of the rules (difficult to implement). Alternative livelihood options for fisherfolk during the ban season is another area that needs attention.

I found a fantastic video made by the South Indian Federation of Fisheries, which shows fishing operations on the west coast (Kerala); I have never seen such a fantastic account of seine fishing. It shows how the catch is done, to the fisherman's cries and songs. But it also shows what is happening due to overfishing, and it suggests sustainable ways to manage ring seining.  Do watch it.

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Metro ya Local?

-by Aishwarya Pramod

The Mumbai Metro began operations on June 8. Since it was a Sunday, lots of families came to check it out. There was a 500-metre long queue at Versova, with crowds waiting patiently for tickets.
This is just 1/8th of the queue!
Chaos reigned in many stations, but in certain places guards from Reliance assisted and directed people in getting off and on. 
Train arrives at Andheri Station
The Mumbai Metro is nothing like Delhi... Check out the mad rush! People were pushing their way into the train even before those inside could come out. Perhaps in Mumbai, people are used to the crowds and rush of locals, and treat the metro in the same way. 
When the ticket counters ran out of coupons, they started giving people chits of paper instead. Some people took their coupons home instead of returning them :)  
But hopefully in the next few days the hoopla will settle down and people will learn how to board the Metro sensibly.

Photo credits: Trisha Roslin George, on her valiant camera phone.

Saturday, May 31, 2014

In which I learn about popular culture

- By Deepa Krishnan

I took this picture of our neighbourhood poster guy, as he set up his pavement stall in the morning:
In one quick glimpse, I could figure out what people want to put up on their walls:
- Sai Baba of Shirdi
- Hindu gods and goddesses
- Bonny babies (including one baby + cell phone combo)
- Chhatrapati Shivaji
- Body builders
- Unrealistic Landscapes
- Bollywood movie stars

My favourite was this poster of Devi, showing the entire universe contained in her. It has such fantastic iconography, I stood there for a couple of minutes just trying to figure out everything that was going on. I wish I could meet the unknown artist, who put together this dazzling imagery of earth and its creatures, all the gods and indeed, the entire universe, contained in one form.
Here's a closer look at the lower half of the picture: what do you see? I see the natural world; elephants, fish, snakes, cows, swans; I see a thousand references to mythology, each one a complete legend in itself. I can't even begin to describe all of them. Amazing, to just find this on the street. This is what popular culture is about - there are no art curators, there is no knowledgeable prattle, and there are no fancy galleries with their rarified atmosphere. The market rewards the artist who best expresses what people want.
Here is a closer look at the upper half: the style tells me this was produced in the south of India, but I don't know where. If you click on it, you can see a larger version. The navagraha (nine planets) are represented in her eight arms and in her crown (the Sun God is in her crown). The entire universe is contained in her.
I looked more closely, and found that there were two names signed at the bottom: Siva and Jothi. I think Siva is the artist, and perhaps Jothi is the company that produced the poster? That spelling of Siva tells me this is likely from Tamil Nadu, where I see this spelling usually. Whoever it is, I hope they know they are appreciated!

Friday, May 16, 2014

Teaching and Learning

- by Deepa Krishnan

These days we're doing a training / sensitization series at my office. It is a summer program for young people who work in the tourism industry in Mumbai.
We're discussing a wide range of topics - caste, gender, education, legal system, history, architecture, and so on. The idea is to help these students speak with some level of depth about these issues. They meet and interact with many tourists each month - so it is very useful for them.

I have myself also been enjoying these discussions on social, economic and political issues. And I'm looking forward to more of them. We have three interns this year, students from St Xavier's College (including my daughter Aishwarya!). They're helping to research topics and they're conducting the sessions. I'm the moderator, sort of.

There is lots of participation. I love the dynamics, and especially I love way learning works when there's discussion and fun, and most importantly, when everyone is sharing their own life experiences. I was glad to see the sort of questions that came up in the discussions on caste and gender. I'm learning lots of new stuff myself.

Sunday, May 04, 2014

Taoos Chaman ki Myna

by Aishwarya Pramod

This Sunday, I went to see a children's play at Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan (Chowpatty). The play was called Taoos Chaman ki Myna, meaning "The mynah from the Peacock Garden".

I loved it. It was funny, witty, and extremely well-produced, with a mix of realistic and stylized scenes lending it a fairy-tale feel. And the music was great (my mom is still humming it).

Taoos Chaman ki Myna is based on a short story written by Naiyer Masud, an Urdu writer from Lucknow. The play is set in Lucknow during the mid-1800s. Wajid Ali Shah, the Nawab of Awadh, has a large cage full of beautiful mynahs in his garden in Qaisar Bagh. Kaley Khan is a poor employee in the Nawab's garden. The play follows the story of Kaley Khan and his family, and specifically, what happens when he steals one of the mynahs for his daughter, who has long been asking for one.
Lucknow in the background. Death of Kaley Khan's wife, with his daughter sorrowing.
The acting incorporated a lot of graceful dance-like movements and postures (Kathak, according to my mother), and the play almost became like a dance-drama.
Kaley Khan's first glimpse of Taoos Chaman's peacocks.
Outstanding choreography and imagination.
Newly arrived hill mynas are about to be released into the cage in the Nawab's garden.
Nawab Wajid Ali Shah comes to inspect, along with the British Resident
I loved the glimpse I got into Lucknow's culture - the story was peppered with references to the city of Lucknow - from major landmarks and historical figures to street foods and bird markets, havelis and Nawabi eccentricities. 

It was presented by Gillo Theatre Repertory, which works exclusively in theatre for young audiences. I like the fact that Gillo focuses on showcasing Indian content. They have established a talented repertory of adult performers who perform exclusively for children.
The talented team at Gillo.
Dolly Thakore was there in the audience, she came up on stage and praised the group
... wah re celeb dekh liya B)
The hall was filled with children, most of whom had come with their parents. There was also a large group of schoolchildren with their teachers. I think the play definitely succeeded in delighting the kids :) The adults in the audience loved it too, going by their expressions and applause.

Now I'm looking for more of Naiyer Masud's stories, in Hindi.

Photo credit: Deepa Krishnan

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Mariaai, the Goddess of the people (also called Renuka, Yellamma, Mariamman, Ekvira)

- By Deepa Krishnan

I was walking along Dadar Kabootarkhana yesterday, and I spotted someone going from stall to stall, with the Goddess balanced on the head. 
It is summer now, and this is the time of rashes and other skin ailments. Mari-aai, also called Mariamman, Renuka, Ekvira or Yellamma, is a major folk goddess in the Deccan/South India. She is very powerful - her wrath can bring disease, but she is equally capable of blessing people. She cures all ailments, especially the pox, she blesses the infertile with children, and brings prosperity to the village.

There are several temples to this powerful goddess in Maharashtra - but if you cannot make the journey to the temple, then "no problem" !! You can get the blessings of the goddess right where you are, because she comes a-visiting, assisted by nomadic intermediaries.

The person carrying the goddess was a hijra, a third gender person. In exchange for a few coins, many stall-owners at Kabootarkhana were receiving benedictions. Some were offering food products from their stall (fruits, lemonade, etc) instead of coins.

The Mariamman/ Renuka/ Yellama legend has particular relevance to the hijra community.  The story begins with a Brahmin sage called Jamdagni. He ordered his sons to kill their mother Renuka, who he suspected of infidelity. Four of his five sons refused, and were burnt to ash. The fifth, the legendary hero Parasurama, agreed and beheaded his mother, but accidentally also beheaded another low-caste woman in the process. After the beheading, Jamdagni offered Parasurama a boon, and Parasurama asked for everyone to come back to life. His five brothers came back to life from the ashes, but they emerged as hijras. For the two women who were beheaded, Parasurama wrongly mixed up the heads and bodies, thus creating Brahmin-Untouchable hybrids. This is the origin of the Renuka-Mariamman entity. While Renuka in her changed form went back to her husband, Mariamman or Yellama remained behind to be worshipped by all. The hijra brothers also began to worship this goddes; so even today there are hijra priests in some Mariamman temples. 

The photo below is from the temple at Sion-Koliwada, which I visited one evening. In this temple, the officiating priestess is a hijra, and several hijras live here. They speak Tamil, so I enjoyed my evening here, chatting and photographing.
To me, Mariamman is extremely powerful because she allows for social norms to be subverted and taboos to be broken. She also provides a place in society for those not strictly adhering to traditional gender boundaries. Here is another photo from the Koliwada temple, with a beautiful hijra holding the goddess trident.
The goddess goes by many names, and is worshipped in many forms. Typically there are animal sacrifices, as well as other less bloody offerings. Here is the Ekvira temple at Karla, which I visted a couple of years ago, and their sacrificial altar.
On the day we went, there were no sacrifices (we went right after a major festival day), but the remnants of the previous day's worship were still there. Typically chickens and goats are sacrificed to Ekvira.
For those who want to read more, I wrote something about the Mariamman festival that I attended some years ago at Dharavi, along with my mother. In that festival, the Andhra community made offerings of a gruel (kanji) made of ragi (millet), flavoured with neem leaves (for protection from disease). There were also sacrifices of chickens and goats.

Clearly this sort of folk culture is at great variance with the "high brahmin" version of Hinduism. And it makes many upper caste people uncomfortable. But this is what I believe gives Hinduism its diversity and uniqueness; that it amalgamates all these variants and allows you to pick and choose what you wish.

Often, when I spot goddess figurines in the market and I ask people about it, they only say "Devi", the Goddess. Sometimes they say Mata, sometimes Aai (both mean mother). To me it is proof that there is a fundamental sameness that Indian people understand instinctively. Whether Ekvira or Renuka or Mari-aai or Yellamma, whether Mumbadevi or Golphadevi, the message is clear - there is one Mother, and she is the energy source of all living things.

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Kamathipura through Olwe's eyes

- By Deepa Krishnan

Yesterday I took a friend to Jehangir Art Gallery, to see Sudharak Olwe's photos of Kamathipura.
These photos took him 10 years to produce. They are gritty and truthful and painful; they are also a starkly beautiful, aesthetic commentary on Mumbai.
Sudharak has photographed 11th Lane, Kamathipura and the people who inhabit it. There are street scenes, portraits, photos of daily life, festivals and events. There is joy, intimacy, bravado, sullenness and despair. Above all, there are stories. Each photograph feels like a frame in a movie - it makes you stop and think about what is happening in the scene, or has happened just before.
As I saw the photos, I remembered my visit to Pune's Budhwar Peth red-light district with a non-profit called Saheli. It was about 5 years ago; but it's not the sort of thing you forget. Seeing the brothels - the narrow dirty stained beds sandwiched between thin wooden ply partitions - was a misery and trial beyond words. 

Unlike other non-profits, Saheli is collectively run by the commercial sex workers themselves. There are a couple of social workers, who help with the day to day affairs, document the work, intercede with the police, etc. But the primary decisions regarding all key issues are taken by the women sex workers.

I learnt about the different ways in which girls end up in prostitution. Most had been trafficked. In many cases, the brothel owners had loaned or paid money to the girl's family, and the girl was the guarantee/pledge. The girl must first repay her family's loan if she ever wants to leave. I also learnt how impossible it was to repay the debt. The earnings from prostitution were meagre (rates began at 20 rupees), and half of that went to the brothel keeper. The women had to pay their own living expenses, pay for their children, and often send money back home. The interest rates were very high, and the debt usually just kept piling up astronomically. Finally, it was all about money. If you had money, it was actually possible to leave.

When Saheli was formed, the first thing the women did was to organise a community kitchen. I learnt that real estate in the brothel area was so precious that every six foot area possible was converted into a bed. The restaurants in the area had also been converted to brothels. Hence the community kitchen, which cooked home-style food, and also provided an alternative occupation to some retired sex workers.

After setting up a community kitchen, the next thing the women put in place was a creche for their children. A commercial sex worker is usually a single-parent, working in a dangerous environment. Children are vulnerable to abuse and exploitation, so they badly need facilities to keep the children safe. The Saheli creche works as a Day and Night creche.
Photo source: Saheli
The photo below is from my visit to the Saheli office. The woman in blue is Tejaswi, she is one of the social workers at Saheli, and she did most of the talking. That's me in the brown saree, listening to her. The girl in yellow is also a volunteer with Saheli. I have not posted photos of the sex workers that I met. Behind us are crates of condoms.
Walking through the brothels of Budhwar Peth was truly difficult. Even though we were escorted by one of the senior sex workers who worked at Saheli, I felt like an unwelcome intruder (which is exactly what I was). Being able to speak Marathi helped a little. I was at least able to sit down and talk to people, rather than just walk around staring. 

During one of the chats, a brothel 'madam' gave me one of her big red bindis. She impulsively stuck it on my forehead (you can see it on the photo). I walked through the rest of the day feeling like I had been branded. In the bus back to Mumbai, I did not dare take the bindi off. It seemed as if by the act of taking it off, I was telling myself to forget Budhwar Peth. The bindi stayed stuck on my bathroom mirror for a year, reminding me of that dark world which 'respectable' women don't acknowledge.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Dharavi Art Room

- by Deepa Krishnan

I went to Bandra yesterday to see an exhibition of photographs clicked by children in Dharavi.

I confess I did not expect much. But I was blown away by what I saw.
The first thing I realised is that this is a very different sort of story-telling: it is an inside and intensely personal viewpoint, rather than an outsider's temporary peek into Dharavi (which is what you usually see in the press). 

The second thing I realised is that the photos themselves set a high aesthetic standard. Meaning, it is not a bleeding heart exhibit where you put up with poor output simply because of the background of the artists. They don't have the slickness of professional photographers, yes, but they are very good.
Third, I couldn't help responding to the sheer emotion in the photos. They go straight to the heart of the subject. Perhaps this kind of directness can only come from children. There is innocence, grace, beauty and the sheer magic of childhood shining through the photos. Collectively, the photos provide a unique insight into daily life and community as seen through young eyes. My phone camera really doesn't do justice to them, so go take a look yourselves and see if you agree with me.
The exhibition also had other things that were produced by the kids, like the charming Meow Book, which has colourful illustrations of cats with lots of stuff about the secret lives of cats :) There was another beautiful book wiith personal stories of women. There were postcards, notebooks, and so on. Those were high quality as well.
The exhibition was organised by Dharavi Art Room, which provides a space for the children of Dharavi to express themselves and explore issues through art. Recently, they've started working with women as well, teaching photography.

I spoke to Himanshu who founded The Dharavi Art Room 8 years ago, and to Akki, who joined a year ago. They're passionate about what they do - and what's more, they bring excellence into it.

Recently, they've run into funding problems,  and lost their permanent space in Dharavi. I've offered to sponsor a new space for The Art Room, and am now actively looking for space in Dharavi.

They need lots of financial assistance as well. If you can help, let me know, I'll send you their budget.

More updates soon on my space hunt in Dharavi.

Meanwhile: how to get to the current exhibition:
The Hive, 50 - A, Huma Mansion, Opposite Ahmed Bakery, Chuim Village Rd, Khar West, Mumbai, Maharashtra, India 400050. They will be there all of this week.

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Turichya Shenga - a winter delight

- By Deepa Krishnan

With the winter season gone, it is time to say goodbye to the last of the "turichya shenga" - the green pods of tuar dal. 
The English name for this most basic of Indian dals is pigeonpea. I find the name both prosaic and beautiful :) 

There is archaeological evidence of tuar dal in India from nearly 3500 years ago. Two Neolithic sites from Odisha - Gopalpur on Sea and Golabai Sasan - have shown evidence of tuar dal. In fact, Odisha still has wild strains of tuar growing it forests. Tuar has been found at Sanganakallu (near Bellary, Karnataka), another Neolithic site where extensive excavation work has been going on. Another Chalcolithic site in Maharashtra, Tuljapur Garhi (Vidarbha district) also shows tuar dal. 

There is some dispute around whether tuar dal is native to India, or came here from Africa. However, the more accepted understanding by researchers is that tuar went from India to Malaysia and East Africa, then on to West Africa and finally to the West Indies, where in 1962 it was named pigeonpea. Pigeonpea then went to the New World (America etc) through the slave trade from Africa. 

Today it is grown in more than 25 countries, but India has a giant share: we produce 80% of the world's tuar dal. We import tuar dal from Africa because we cannot meet our domestic consumption needs. 

I went to the Indira Market at Sion last week and bought a quarter kilo of fresh tuar pods. It is an expensive vegetable, typically selling at Rs 100 a kilo. The simplest way to eat it is by cleaning the pods, and steaming them whole in a vessel with salt and turmeric. You can spend some happy "timepass" hours shelling them and eating the sweet pods inside.
I decided to make rava-bhaath with the rest of my fresh tuar. Here's a quick recipe: Take two tablespoons of oil, and temper with mustard seeds, green chillies, curry leaves and asafoetida. Add rava (semolina) and saute some more until it turns a light brown. Add salt. Toss in fresh pigeon peas, then add boiling water, cover and cook for 5 minutes. Turn off the flame, squeeze lemon juice and garnish with fresh coriander leaves before serving. We ate it with yoghurt and amla (gooseberry) pickle. Here is what it looked like:
Tuar is grown primarily in Maharashtra, which accounts for nearly 35% of India's production. The other somewhat big producers are Orissa, Karnataka and Uttar Pradesh, which together account for another 40%. It is a kharif crop, so we see fresh tuar coming into the market in the winter season, from December to March. After March, you can't usually get fresh tuar. If you love the taste of fresh tuar, you can shell them like peas, and put them away in the freezer for use later in the year. 

I haven't frozen any fresh tuar, so for the rest of the year, I've got to eat the dried version. 
Here's one of my favourite recipes of dried yellow tuar dal with kasuri methi (fenugreek leaves): 

In a kadai, add a tablespoon of oil. Add jeera (cumin), dried red chillies, finely chopped garlic and half a chopped onion. Saute until you get drunk on the aroma :) :) but don't allow the chillies to blacken (keep the flame low). Add cooked tuar dal, and a little bit of turmeric. Let it boil for 5 minutes on a low flame. Add a handful of kasuri methi (dried fenugreek) and switch off the flame. Stir the fenugreek in, garnish with coriander, and serve piping hot with basmati rice. Enjoy!

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