வாரம் ஒரு கவிதை … ” நல்லதோர் வீணை ” 2

நல்லதோர் வீணை
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நல்லதோர் வீணை …நல்ல தலைவர் பலர்
வடிவமைத்துக் கொடுத்த நாள் இன்று
26 சனவரி …குடியரசு திருநாள் !
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நல்ல ஒரு வீணை இசையை ஓசையின்றி
தவிர்த்து தனித்தனி ஆவர்த்தனம் பல
மேடையில் இன்று அரங்கேற்றம் என் நாட்டில் !
வீணை இசை இல்லாமல் கச்சேரி
எப்படி களை கட்டும் ? தனி ஆவர்த்தனம்
ஒரு கச்சேரி ஆகுமா ?
நல்லோர் பலர் விட்டு சென்ற நல்லதோர்
வீணை மறக்க வேண்டாம் நாம் !
நாம் எல்லோரும் இந்தியர் என்று
இசைக்கும் அந்த வீணையின் கீதம்
வீணாய் காற்றில் கரையவும் வேண்டாம் !
நல்ல ஒரு வீணை இசை நம் மூச்சாக
இருக்கட்டும் … நல்லதோர் வீணை
இன்றும் என்றும் நம் பேச்சாக இருக்கட்டும் !
Natarajan
26th Jan 2018

The making of the Tiranga….

Year after year, Indians hoist the Tricolour with great fervour on Republic Day and Independence Day.

But have you ever wondered where, and how, the flag is made?

On the occasion of India’s Republic Day, Rediff.com visits Khadi Dyers and Printers, a tiny unit in Borivli, north west Mumbai, where the Tricolour takes shape.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

IMAGE: The blue dye is spread evenly on a cast with the Ashoka Chakra.
It takes the better part of the entire day to get the Ashoka Chakra printed onto a piece of white cloth.

The national flag you see fluttering on government buildings across Maharashtra take shape in a tiny unit in suburban Mumbai.

Here workers stencil and stamp the Ashoka Chakra onto white khadi cloth — the central motif is printed in blue ink using a screen printing technique.

Printing happens only by hand at this unit, where flags are manufactured according to the Indian standard specifications for the national flag.   

IMAGE: The white cloth is quickly spread out so that the ink can dry and does not bleed.
At this unit, no cloth is just a piece of fabric. It’s something special.

“When you buy khadi flags, you’re actually supporting poor farmers living in villages,” says D N Bhatt, manager, Khadi Dyers and Printers.

“Education has not touched some of these villages, where poor farmers make khadi for a living,” he adds.

The process of flag-making is strenuous and the flags are made in segments.

Khadi manufactured in the villages reaches Bhatt’s unit. It is then segregated into three parts: One to be bleached white and two to be dyed green and saffron.

When the bleached cloth returns to the unit, the Ashoka Chakra is printed on it.

Once the green and saffron dyed cloth return to the unit, a stitching team cuts out the required sizes and sews the flag panels to put together the Indian flag.

Lastly the flag is ironed, neatly folded and packed.

The finished bags are then ready to be shipped to government offices and also supplied to khadi stores from where the public can buy these flags.

Bhatt’s unit has limited production capacity, so it produces flags throughout the year.

“Our main work is printing the Ashoka Chakra and stitching the flags according to BIS norms,” says Bhatt. “We also sew accessories like ropes, toggles and threads into the flag.”

“The flags here are made of khadi only and they strictly adhere to the specifications laid down by the BIS,” he adds.

“The flags come in nine sizes from 4″ x 6″ to 14″ x 21”.

“As and when a Khadi Bhandar gets an order, they approach us and we immediately supply flags to them. For that, we need to keep flags in all sizes ready.”

Bhatt’s unit also manufactures table and car flags for VIPs. “We cater to all government departments and embassies in India and abroad.”

The flags made at this unit are more expensive than the ones made of regular cloth, paper and metal. That’s the price you pay for the effort that goes into making the flag.

“Please buy khadi flags,” Bhatt urges readers. “By doing so, you are helping poor people.”

Source….www.rediff.com

Natarajan

 

 

Meet Narasamma…97 years…Padma Awardee from Karnataka ….Who help delivering babies for 70 years ….

When Narasamma helped deliver the very first child in 1940, the mother told her that her hands were ‘special’.

It was the year 1940. Narasamma was only 20 years old when she helped bring the first baby into the world. This child was her aunt’s. And even as an overwhelmed Narasamma took on the role of a midwife for the very first time, little did she know that what she would one day win a national honour for it.

‘Sulagatti’ Narasamma has been delivering babies for 70 years in backward areas of Tumkur district in Karnataka. And her life-long services to women whose children she helped deliver without taking a penny were finally recognised – she was honoured with a Padma Shri on Thursday.

Narasamma, now 97, is currently admitted at a nursing home for treatment.

TNM spoke to Sriram Pavagada, one of Narasamma’s 12 children. He says that Narasamma would always observe her grandmother Margamma deliver babies, when she was a child.

“Margamma herself was locally famous in Tumkur for delivering babies around 70 years ago. When she delivered her aunt’s child – her first – her aunt remarked ‘Narsu, your hands are special’. That was the start,” Sriram narrates.

Encouraged by her grandmother and aunt, Narasamma began delivering babies and soon became the go-to person in Pavagada for pregnant women.

Narsamma delivered babies free of cost at a time hospitals and roads were unheard of in Pavagada. It earned the moniker ‘Sulagatti’ Narasamma – sulagatti in Kannada means ‘delivery work’.

“Even now, though there are hospitals, many people don’t like to go there. Instead, they prefer Narsamma since they know her,” says Sriram.

People’s immense faith in Narasamma and her ways has seen her deliver over 1,500 babies in the last 77 years. And until a few years ago, she did this apart from agricultural work. “If you ask her, she will say I don’t have a count since she has been doing it all her life,” Sriram says with fondness.

Midwives were an integral part of rural life in Tumkur until technological innovations in medicine reached there. The introduction of hospitals contributed to the gradual fall in the prominence of women who help during childbirth.

The Padma Shri award has brought Narasamma’s work into limelight once again, and her son hopes that there is a greater interest in taking her work forward.

Narasamma’s work is now being continued by close to 180 pupils who learnt the traditional way of delivering babies from her. This includes her youngest daughter Jayamma who is now an experienced midwife.

Though he doesn’t remember when, Sriram says that his mother has also been conferred an honorary doctorate by Tumkur University.

Source…Prajwal Bhat in www. the news  minute .com

Natarajan

 

For the love of art: Meet the Vizag man who makes beautiful sculptures using paper…

The word sculptor usually brings to mind a man busy chiselling away on metal or plaster, but Moka Satish Kumar, a Visakhapatnam-based artist, plans to change that perception.

Completely self-taught, Satish began with small subjects like birds and insects before gradually moving on to exotic sculptures.

A paper sculptor, Satish is gaining recognition for intricate sculptures carved by him using nothing but paper.

Born, raised and educated in Visakhapatnam, Satish has been sculpting these three-dimensional sculptures for close to 12 years now.

“I come from a commerce background and have no formal training in the arts field. It all started when I began observing paper collages. I was drawn to the subtle way in which light and dark colour paper are assembled to create an image,” says Satish, who used to work in the private sector.

“However, with sculptures, it’s far more realistic as the effect of a shadow is created by the subject itself,” he adds.

Since Satish is completely self-taught, he began with small subjects like birds and insects before gradually moving on to some exotic sculptures. Here are a few examples.

 

 

 

 

 

The outline of the art is first drawn on the paper before Satish cuts them out and gets to work. The sculptures are made using a combination of cutting, folding and embossing techniques.

“Embossing is nothing but adding an extra layer on top of a paper to give it a certain finish and 3D effect. For example, the finish you find on wedding cards is from preset designs, which are pressed onto the card,” Satish explains.

“However, I do it manually to ensure that the final product is smooth. The paper should also be handled with care as it is generally a delicate thing,” he adds.

Meticulous effort

Making a sculpture is not easy work, as even a basic 2×2 feet portrait can take up to 250 hours, says Satish.

“The sculptures are also expensive for the same reason. Only those who put in the hard work will understand. No corrections can be made to the art work… even a minor mistake means that the sculptor has to start over again,” Satish says.

While paper sculpting is relatively more common in western countries, very few Indians indulge in the art form. Therefore, Satish has also opened an institute and is presently teaching three students in his workshop.

“I also need labour. I can’t mass produce these sculptures, so I’m working on teaching it to more people. I also plan to approach the Andhra Pradesh government with my work,” he says.

Source…Nitin.B. in http://www.the news  minute.com

Natarajan

 

Tipu Sultan’s Mechanical Tiger…

The sun is the hottest when the clock strikes one in the small town of Seringapatam, not far from the city of Mysore, in present day Karnataka, a state in India. Colonel Arthur Wellesley, who was leading two army units of the British East India Company, knew that the defenders of the fortress of Seringapatam would be taking a break for refreshment at this hour. That’s when he planned to strike.

The date was May 4, 1799—the final day of the final confrontation between the British East India Company and the Kingdom of Mysore led by the strong and assertive Tipu Sultan. At the scheduled hour, seventy-six men dashed across the four-feet-deep river Cauvery and in only sixteen minutes had scaled the ramparts and stormed into the fort. The defenders, taken by surprise, were quickly subdued and in two hours the fort had fallen completely. Later, in a choked tunnel-like passage in the interior of the fort, the

bullet riddled body of Tipu Sultan, “the Tiger of Mysore” was found.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo credit: Victoria and Albert Museum

The victorious troops then proceeded to raid the royal treasury and over the next few weeks systematically emptied it, sharing the loot among the British army. Some time later, a curious object was discovered in the music room of the palace. It was a large wooden musical automata depicting a tiger mauling a man in European clothing. The man, which is nearly life-size, lies on his back while the tiger sinks its teeth into his neck. There is a crank protruding from the side of the tiger. When it’s turned, a hidden mechanism causes the man’s arm to go up and down, while a set of bellows inside causes the animal to growl and the man to emit distressing cries of agony. A flap on the tiger’s body can be opened to reveal a small organ and a keyboard capable of playing 18 notes.

Tipu Sultan’s mechanical tiger—known as Tipu’s Tiger— was a clear representation of his hostility towards the British—a feeling that he shared with his father, Hyder Ali, since his childhood. Hyder Ali regarded the British as their sworn enemy as they prevented Hyder from expanding his kingdom, and Tipu grew up with violently anti-British feelings. In 1792, when Tipu Sultan was forced to concede half of Mysore’s territories along with a large financial tribute to the British after the defeat at the Third Anglo-Mysore War, he had this machine built.

Tipu Sultan’s personal emblem was the tiger. The tiger motif was visible throughout his palace—on his throne, on his weapons and armor; the tiger stripe motif was painted on walls and used in uniforms; he even kept live tigers in his palace. Even his nickname that he adopted for himself was “the Tiger of Mysore”. Tipu’s Tiger, hence, was a symbolic representation of his desire to triumph over the British. It’s believed that the Sultan had frequently amused himself by playing with the instrument’s crank and hearing the distressing cries of the victim.

Understandably, the British were not amused. When they discovered the “contrived machine”, the Governor General of the East India Company wrote a memorandum calling it a “memorial of the arrogance and barbarous cruelty of Tipu Sultan” and “another proof of the deep hate, and extreme loathing” the Sultan had towards the English.

For a while, Tipu’s Tiger was displayed in the reading-room of the East India Company Museum and Library in London where it became very popular, especially since anybody could walk up to the machine and hand-crank it to hear the wailing and the grunting. The handle couldn’t take the abuse for long and it broke a few years later, to the great relief of the students using the reading-room in which the tiger was displayed.

In 1880, the tiger was acquired by the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. Since then, it has been one of the most popular exhibits in the museum and a “must-see”, although it’s too fragile now and cannot be operated. During the Second World War, the roof above the museum came crashing down and broke the tiger into several hundred pieces. After the war, the tiger was carefully pieced together, but it no longer works.

In recent times, Tipu’s Tiger has formed an essential part of museum exhibitions exploring the subject of Indian resistance to British rule, as well as British prejudice and imperial aggression. Tipu’s Tiger appears in various forms of memorabilia in the museum shops as postcards, model kits and stuffed toys.

Source ….Kaushik in http://www.amusingplanet.com

Natarajan