[Draft] Flying on the "Paan" Leaves
First, it was excreta, then betel leaves. In a circular economy, wastes were once fertilizing the planet and keeping the earth greener, turned unsightly and unhygienic in a linear-modern economy.
In a linear, growth-obsessed, modern economy, wastes that were fertilizing the planet and keeping the earth greener in a circular economy became unsightly and unhygienic. First, it was the human excreta, and then it was betel-leaves juice. Vihaan took his teacher, Ray, by surprise with what he said. “Circularity is life-affirming.” ‘Linearity is life-defying when one stops to take ecological limitations into consideration,” Vihaan added.
Vihaan continued as if he was possessed, “The Indian economy was always circular until the advent of the linear, singularly focused people from Europe in the 16th century. Europeans first straightened the time, and then, when their lives turned hopelessly boring after Darwin's cognitive disruption, they resorted to seeking meaning in the destruction of others, probably non-volitionally—something that sounds inevitable with no end in sight in a linear time framework. The only way to find respite is the cessation of things—a complete annihilation.”
Ray asked Vihaan why he was able to combine the waste and beetle juices. He had never seen anyone do it before. Vihaan's response and the story embedded in it made Ray look at ‘paan stains’ in a new light, especially when Ray one day had to be taken to New Haven Hospital at ungodly hours.
Paan (Betel Leaves)
Betel leaf, known as “paan”, revealed its medicinal value when Ray was diagnosed with heart ailment after a plethora of medical tests. Vihaan came to see him in the hospital and suggested to Ray that he should start to eat paan (betel leaf) after his meals.
Betel leaves are used as a stimulant, an antiseptic, and a breath-freshener. In India, Betel leaf (BL) plays an important role since ancient culture. Its use in India dates back to 400 BC. As per ancient books of Ayurveda, Charaka, Sushruta Samhitas, and Kashyapa Bhojanakalpa, the practice of chewing BL after meals became common between 75 AD and 300 AD. Toward the 13th century, European traveler Marco Polo recorded betel chewing among kings and nobles in India.1
Before Vihaan rescued the lowly paan, paan was a source of intense annoyance for Ray. Every time he would hear the word ‘paan’, his father's voice reverberates in his ears:
“Rayia, paan le aao paneri kiyahan se.”
[“Ray, go and get some paan from the person growing paan leaves.”]
It was a set of utterances that would destroy Ray's enthusiasm for going to his ancestral home from Patna during his early teen years. It was the most dreaded sentence around Holi time when Ray would go to visit his extended family in his village. In the mid-eighties, the norm was to follow whatever one’s father would ask someone to do. No questions asked!
After his father’s order, Ray would walk through the village’s main thoroughfare—a dirt but clean road, then through a well-maintained Mishir Toli, and then through the Lala Toli to a vast field of paan leaves cultivated by Kaalua. Kaalua was so darkly black that it was only during his late teens that Ray’s fear of facing Kaalua could subside.
Paan was easily available in the city of Patna, but it was rarely available in the village. No one residing in the village was rich enough to afford it regularly, so no market for paan could develop. When Ray’s father learned that a farmer in the adjoining village was cultivating paan, paan became a differentiating factor, something that probably signalled a sense of arrival for Ray’s father.
It was only after Ray experienced, lived in, and worked at places that were clean and beautiful that paan stains all around India became a sign of backwardness, signalling a blunted and stunted aesthetic sense of Indians.
Before Vihaan’s story, dirt and squalor, along with the paan stains, made Ray not respect Indians. Ray would bemoan, “Do Indians, at least those who have seen the world, have no sense of shame left to live in the cities and villages that they do? Indian villages and cities, the ones at least in North India, are so shockingly dirty.”
Emily, Ray’s partner, had enough of his complaints about India and Indians. Emily was more empathetic to Indians than Ray was. Emily introduced Vihaan to Ray. Vihaan was taking her course on ‘Neuroscience and Aesthetics’, and she found him quite intriguing given the kind of questions he would ask, most of them related to issues that India was facing.
Vihaan’s Arrival in America
Ray suggested Emily invite Vihaan to the annual Holi dinner. At the dining table, Ray asked Vihaan point-blank when Indians would stop eating their paans and learn to keep India beautiful.
Charlie, a local businessman who had been to India, chimed in, “Vihaan, would you agree that though the British deformed and defaced India, Indians are equally to blame for spitting that reddish brown spittoon everywhere in their country, making India look like sh*t?”
Tim, an architect with a broad smile on his face, said, “I do agree. Though I have been only to Dharmasala, paan certainly plays a big role. Every nook and cranny of India is coloured by reddish-brown juice, the colour of the spittoon thrown after chewing the betel leaves. The reddish-brown colour represented the unsightly and unhygienic facet of India. I had the worst paan experience in the whole world. Once, my whole face got covered in the paan-spittoon while travelling on a bus; someone from a bus ahead spat out, and the whole spit landed on my face."
Ray recounted gleefully Emily’s experience with paan-stains in India. She was intrigued by the reddish-brown stains everywhere. One day, she saw what was leaving the stains everywhere. She felt so disgusted by the sight that she cancelled her travel plan and left immediately for her hometown in New Hampshire, saying, “Ray, I have no desire to see this country.”
After Emily’s departure, paan stood for everything that was wrong with India in Ray’s mind—until Vihaan appeared at his bedside in the hospital.
The whole Holi dinner revolved around paan, and it was then that Vihaan got up to prepare an Indian-flavoured tea served with a shot of local Connecticut-spiked whisky. When he served the tea, everyone around the dining table gasped at the earthy and fresh taste. It was then that Vihaan revealed that he had flavoured the tea with paan extract.
Vihaan then shared with the guests around the table how some recent research suggested that paan might be helping Indians with their cardiac health. Paan, as a form of medicine, made Ray super curious about it. Suddenly, Paan rose in his consciousness like a phoenix. Ray asked Vihaan to share his life story.
Vihaan’s Bambel
On Ray’s hospital bed side, the very first memory Vihaan shared was with one of his teachers, Prof. Shukla, who had returned to India after living in America for many years. Prof. Shukla mentored and then paved the way for Vihaan to go to Lancaster. From the University of Lancaster, Vihaan found his way to the US.
One day, Prof. Shukla invited Vihaan to his office when he learned that Vihaan was from Bihar. When Prof. Shukla asked Vihaan to repeat whatever he was saying, Vihaan became nervous.
‘Sorry, Sir. I bambel.”
“You mean, you take ‘bramble’?
“No, sir. Not bramble. What is bramble?”
Prof. Shukla explained to Vihaan that it’s an alcoholic drink that people took in the West and was made with gin.
Vihaan then responded, “No, Sir. I bambel,” Vihaan said, stammering very distinctly.
Though Prof. Shukla had not heard the word “bambel” before, he knew that Vihaan was talking about his stammering.
Prof. Shukla then advised Vihaan to practice the ‘shadaj’ of the Indian classical raagas. Prof. Shukla breathed in and then slowly exhaled, uttering ‘sa’. Vihaan repeated after Prof. Shukla and promised to practice regularly.
Prof. Shukla quickly sensed that Vihaan’s language and vocabulary were both very poor. Vihana continued, “Professor Shukla suggested a daily writing practice of 100-150 words along with regular reading. Additionally, he advised delving into the history of my region, which surprised me. When I questioned his motivation to help me, his response was unexpected and profound. He explained that my voice possessed a rare depth for someone of my age, with a mystical quality that he found very intriguing and endearing.”
Vihaan had just stepped out of a tiny town in the backwater of Bihar. His interaction took an unexpected turn when Prof. Shukla learned about Vihaan’s native place, a teeny-tiny town in Bihar.
Begusarai
Vihaan came from a district called ‘Begusarai’ in Prof. Shukla’s native state of Bihar. The area was close to Majhauli, next to the largest oxbow lake in India and Asia.
Prof. Shukla inquired, “How did the lake form? Why was it there?” Vihaan had no answers. That didn’t put a brake to Prof. Shukla’s curiosity; he kept asking questions, and his curiosity peaked when Vihaan told him that his father used to run a paan shop.
Prof. Shukla was pleasantly surprised to find someone from the hinterland of India aspiring to join the caravan of Indian techies marching to win the world with their ingenuity and hard work. To hide his surprise, Prof. Shukla said, “There are so many businesses to go into. How did your father get into the paan business? Do you know the supply chain of your dad’s business?”
“My uncle, an elder brother of my father, was the biggest paan seller in our tiny town. When my father was growing up, he started helping him and then graduated to have his own paan stall.”
Vihaan explained that there used to be a long line in front of his father and uncle’s shops. All the district's elites used to have their daily paans there.
Prof. Shukla repeated his question about the supply chain. Vihaan didn’t know what Prof. Shukla was talking about. He requested Prof. Shukla to explain and soon realized that the opportunity didn’t arise for Vihaan to learn about the supply chain.
Closure of the Paan Shop
Noticing an element of surprise in Prof. Shukla, Vihaan emphatically said that his father was no longer in the paan business.
What happened?
“Crime.”
“Tell me more,” Prof. Shukla probingly prodded Vihaan to continue talking.
“My chacha was drowned by some people envious of him.” Vihaan’s uncle had started to earn a lot through his paan shop; he also had started to drink alcohol regularly. One day, after a funeral at the village cremation ground on the bank of the Ganges, Vihaan’s uncle was drinking with some people, and they challenged him to cross the river. In the middle of the river, they all got tired, but only Vihaan’s uncle was left in the river while others were picked up by a boat. Vihaan’s uncle couldn’t reach the other side of the river and drowned. For three days, his body was not found. It was after a military operation that his body was discovered.”
Prof. Shukla felt genuinely hurt listening to Vihaan. This was the latest example of what ailed his native land: People trapped by and in their own minds, giving in to the shadripu that Indians were warned repeatedly by their ancestors.2
One day, Prof. Shukla invited Vihaan to a Hollywood movie, he wanted Vihaan to experience the only pilgrimage that he had gone in America. While going into the theatre, Vihaan saw the other side of Prof. Shukla. As soon as they turned on the first floor, Prof. Shukla exploded, ‘Look at this. Is this a place to spit?” Before Vihaan could collect himself to understand what Prof. Shukla was saying, Prof. Shukla spoke again, “These paan stains look so dirty. I can’t invite any of my friends from abroad here. They would all lose respect for this country.'‘
Vihaan felt his whole world crumble on that staircase. Paan was a divine gift for Vihaan and his extended family. It was on paan leaves that he flew from his teeny-tiny town to the metropolitan city of Delhi. Without his family paan shops, Vihaan would not have been able to do much."
During the movie, Prof. Shukla didn’t say a word. It was after the movie that he became animated with excitement about the science where Oppenheimer met Einstein. That was a small pond behind IAS, Princeton, that Prof. Shukla drove to experience the ambience in which Godel and Einstein used to take their regular walk. After the movie, Prof. Shukla beseeched Vihaan to become curious about his native town and about his own history. It was many years later that Vihaan realized what Prof. Shukla had done with him; he was helping Vihaan to grow roots.
Gopala, the First Pala King of Bengal
When Vihaan started to research the history of his town and the district in which it was located, he was shocked to realize how rich the district's history was.
It was during the reign of the Palas that the Buddhist sites were rejuvenated, and many universities were patronized.
Pala was also the word for ‘milk’ in many southern states in India.
Begum Sarai
There was a Sarai, where the trade caravan carrying muslin, jute, and precious metals used to stop for centuries before the arrival of Muslims and Europeans.
Shaktipeeth
Vihaan’s Journey
Prof. Shukla inquired how Vihaan managed to get admission to the university, which was quite costly. Vihaan revealed that his grandma had left money for him that would cover at least one year of the tuition fee. She was a wise and deeply respected woman who used to love him the most.
And what about his siblings?
One was taking care of the parents left behind, those leaving the country to fulfil their higher aspirations.
Who Will Make Your Town Beautiful?
This was the question by Prof. Shukla that shook Vihaan’s core.
Vihaan used to believe that the situation was bad because of the corruption in Bihar, especially in his region. He had to leave his hometown and depend on the banks and his relatives to fund his education.
Prof. Shukla, with a tinge of sadness on his face, had told him, “But who will improve the situation? Your generation needs to grow up faster and take more responsibility. My generation has failed you.”
[….TO BE CONTINUED]
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Disclaimer: Nothing I have written here is set in stone. I am putting these ideas to start a conversation and bring people to discuss and debate the issues captured here. Give me feedback, and it will help me learn. I will keep updating this article.
https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3892533/
In Hindu theology, arishadvarga or shadripu (Sanskrit: षड्रिपु; meaning the six enemies) are the six enemies of the mind, which are: kama(Desire/Lust), krodha (Anger), lobha (Greed), mada (Ego), moha (Attachment), and matsarya (Jealousy) additionally alasya (laziness).