The silk sari and the vegetarian. Life's another contradiction!

My parents' home in Chennai, for all its quiet ambiance inside, is right in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the city.  A metaphorical stone throw away are stores in plenty that sell two important must-have in that culture: gold jewelry and silk saris.  Of course, there is that ultimate combination of silk saris with gold lamé!

Every time I visit Chennai, I never cease to be amazed at the huge crowds at every one of those stores.  Understandable, given that every major celebration involve these two.  A wedding preparation, for instance, includes shopping for quite a few silk saris.  Typically, women wait for such occasions to drape themselves in silk saris, and men too sometimes wear silk shirts and veshtis.

But, how kosher is it for vegetarians to wear silk?

What is the connection between the two?  Let me first explain the question.

The philosophical, ethical issues related to killing animals is why people choose to be vegetarians.  (And people like me, who occasionally eat that steak or chicken, end up worrying even more about whether that "non-veg" evening was worth the kill!)

Silk, too, involves killing.

The caterpillars feed on tasty mulberry leaves and fatten themselves up so that they can spin a cocoon around themselves waiting for that magical metamorphosis into a moth.

If life is what happens when we are busily planning for it, in the case of these caterpillars, death is what happens as they are preparing for the metamorphosis.

And that death happens in a crude manner.  A systematic killing as the cocoons get dumped into boiling water.  There is an old story of how this began:

According to legend, 5,000 years ago Chinese Empress Xi Ling-Shi discovered silk when a silkworm cocoon fell into her hot cup of tea. She unraveled the strange cocoon and, wrapping the thread around her finger, soon realized what an exquisite cloth it would make. Thus the history of one of the world's most coveted fabrics began.

From that killing we derive the silk fiber that then goes through metamorphosis of various types to become the silk garments.

So, the question then remains: if a vegetarian food habit is because of concerns over killing animals, then shouldn't that same yardstick lead those vegetarian shoppers to stay away from the silk stores?  The vegetarian who might be aghast at the idea that there are places where the silkworm is a part of the cuisine will usually find it acceptable to buy silk?

Geographically, perhaps the ultimate contradiction is with the city of Kanchipuram.  With its rich religious history of Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism--all the three preaching non-violence in so many ways and advocating against the killing of animals--the same city is also known for its silk saris.  The silk coming from killing caterpillars in their cocoons.

We humans are bundles of contradiction.  If we were all directed to make consistent our approaches to various aspects of life, I bet that almost all of us will give up within the first minute of our attempts given the gazillion inconsistencies that our lives are all about.

Three meals. Five friends. One awesome life.

Back in the old country, in those old days before television and the internet, it was in rather strange ways that I learnt about the African continent.  Father's interest to get to Sierra Leone on a work assignment, the travel writing by Manian, and my classmate having spent two years in Kenya, all gave me an idea of Africa that made me all the more curious about the people from there.

Perhaps those early experiences were also why I did not grow up with the cliched portrayals of Africa that are often nothing more than horrible caricatures.

In graduate school, at Los Angeles, one of the fellow students I really liked interacting with was a wonderfully sharp guy from Nigeria.  Kayode, whose intellectual pursuits were in science and engineering, and I shared so many common interests, from movies to politics to sports too.  Yes, Ramesh, I used to follow sports back then!  

The first time I invited Kayode to taste my cooking, I thought I had to warn him that the food might be spicy for his taste.  After taking a bite, Kayode laughed his hearty laugh and said something like "if you think this is spicy, you have to taste my aunt's cooking back in Nigeria. I bet you won't be able to handle it."  A few days after that, we were talking about this and his friend, who was from Ghana, challenged Kayode that his family cooked even spicier meals.  

I had no idea until then that in Africa, too, spicy food was not unusual at all.

Over the years, I have come to understand that breaking that proverbial bread with friends is more than merely about food. We learn a lot more about them, their families, their stories, their angst, their excitements.  And, if they are from a different part of the world, then a meal becomes a window into that world that is otherwise so far away.  

I was reminded of all these during the hour-long drive back home after dinner at a friend's place.  

Dinner home-cooked, which itself is a rarity anymore.

Dinner prepared by two sisters from Ghana.

Because they know about my fascination for cooking at home, and my interest to take photos of foods as well, they even decided to document the cooking process at various stages. When they systematically follow-up on what would interest me, isn't that by itself a wonderful statement!  It was one of those moments to realize that, thankfully, it is not a world of small talk alone, and not a world of mere fake emotions.  

So, what did I get to eat there?

Wait ... before I describe the foods to you, let me present the photos of some of the ingredients that my friend made sure to take for my sake:

These, along with a few other ingredients not in any photos, became:

the appetizer

"red red" black-eyed beans

fried bananas

spinach with those seeds in the grinder, plus ...

And they all came together on the table:

It was a wonderful way to spend a gorgeous summer evening.  We traded stories, which included a few unpleasant ones as well.  Life is, after all, not always joyful and there are aches and pains and heartbreaks along the way.  As much as it is up to us to transform a hard legume into a tasty "red red," I suppose it is equally our challenge to render anything unpleasant as nothing but an ingredient for an enjoyable life.

The morning came, and I had with coffee some of those fried bananas.  Yes, not only did I have a tasty meal, they even packed up some of that for me to take home!

Soon, it was time to go on a short hike with another friend.  

We walked and talked and sweated our way on a bright and muggy summer day to the mountain top from where we had some amazing views of the valley and mountain ranges in the distance.  As if all that was not enough of a reward for me, I was treated to an awesome pesto salad, which quickly attracted the attention of a couple of yellow-jackets that were interested in the parmesan.

Allow me to recap: dinner with friends, and lunch with a friend. And all home-cooked food.

You drooling and jealous, yet?

Wait, there is more.

My neighbors invited me over to share dinner with them. It was a fantastic summer evening on the patio, with music and a gentle breeze in the background.  Appetizers, sauteed summer vegetables, and grilled steak.  

Life can't be bad when the past twenty-four hours of my life has been with some wonderful people.

No more whites for a while!

People were out and about on the path by the river.  Our last major hurrah before kids and we teachers return to the classrooms.

I noticed a woman wearing whites and with a sun hat on walking in the other direction towards me.  As we got closer, I was really, really tempted to comment "no white after Labor Day" and that she has to pack away that outfit after tomorrow and wait for the Fourth of July next year.

As powerful as that temptation was, I didn't yield to it.  I smiled and kept going.  I wonder what kind of thoughts others have about me when they smile as they pass me!

Way back, during my first year of graduate school, was when I learnt about this fashion statement of no white after Labor Day.

It was in the semester system and, thus, Labor Day was typically a fortnight after classes began.  It was sometime after Labor Day that a Taiwanese classmate, who has even tasted my cooking at home but whose name escapes me, came to school in whites.  She was fashionable always and had an air of affluence about her.

Matthew, who was big guy and remarkably confident about life and what he wanted to do, and with a wonderful sense of humor, saw her in her whites and made that comment about no white after Labor Day.  The things one learns in graduate school!  Though never one interested in fashions, I have always been an idea junkie and Matthew's comment caught my attention.

Over the years, much to my father's displeasure at times, I seem to be even less interested in what I wear.  Though, I do observe some rules, I suppose.  Every once in a while, I remind students that they, too, need to come to class not in rags but in business-friendly attire.  Sometimes I joke that it matters especially if they are single--"you might miss out on your soul-mate" is one of the humorous lines I use.  But, of course, I doubt whether even one student has paid attention to anything I have ever said!

Students do notice how we faculty present ourselves.  Once, when I was at a student's wedding, another student commented that I looked good in the rather formal trousers/shirt/tie that I had on.

If only she had stopped there.

But, she continued. "Compared to the lounge clothes that you wear to class."

Now, it is not as if I wear some lounge-wear to class.  Or, worse, walk around in a Hugh Hefner robe. I am guessing that the clothes that I typically wear to work did not meet her expectations of how a faculty ought to be in that setting.

Her comment was a contrast to another student who, a couple of years ago, told me that I am "totally with it" even without wearing formal clothes.

Appearance is in the eye of the beholder, perhaps.

And then there are some who can look stunning in whatever they wear.  Expensive bling is not needed.  Perhaps even in the middle of their sleep, they look uber-presentable. To them, rules such as no whites after Labor Day do not apply.

Way up there on that very short list is Audrey Hepburn, of course! ;)

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