Filter coffee. Instant coffee. Arabica. Espresso. Flat white. Cappuccino. Americano – all these different types of coffees are available on the menu cards in cafes, airport lounges and specialty restaurants. The basic ingredient of course is coffee, but each of these variants has had different flavors – or should we say processing – for while much of the essence is preserved, something is also lost in the process of refinement. But raw unfiltered coffee is also unique in the sense that it is closer to the soil and gives a taste of reality that boutique varieties cannot.
Unfiltered: The Little Things, by Ratna Manucha (RM) is a potpourri of three and thirty articles and eight poems about the extraordinary observations of everyday life, each one funny, irreverent and very much next-door. The eight poems include “Laughter”, which could be read as a Prelude to the book. Then there is a poem to close each of the seven sections ‘Phone Alone’ (“Changing Times”), ‘City Woes’ (“On My Terms”), ‘Quirky Kinks’ (“Upside Down”), ‘Social Graces’ (“The Visit”), ‘Forever Friends’ (“Life In The Army — Is A Song”), ‘Odds and Ends’ (“A Child in Every Man”) and ‘Covid Capers’ — which closes with “Ceaseless Wonders” as an epilogue of sorts.
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Most of the columns in this compilation have appeared in the Garhwal Post – the demi-official Gazetteer of Dehradun – for if a milestone has not been reported on its pages, it hasn’t occurred at all. Thus most of Ratna’s loyal readers in the Valley of Doon have probably read most if not all of these articles. However, since this cheerful book and this review have an audience well beyond this (still) beautiful and picturesque city, let me share my thoughts on the entries in this offering.
We begin with the poems. “Laughter” reminds us that the wrinkles on the faces of senior citizens are actually laughter lines to be proud of, while “Changing Times” has a lament from an old oak tree whose brothers have all been chopped up and taken away. “On My Terms” is the effervescent RM wanting to do away with doors and windows to let the breeze waft in, but “Upside Down” brings her back to a terra firma world where guests drop in on precisely those days when the taps have run dry, the fridge is empty and the house help is on furlough! There are two ‘unfiltered’ verse on the army – the first is to mark “The Visit” of a GoC, and “Life in the Army” is her version of the ditty on the wide gulf between the hype and reality of army life. “A Child in Every Man” tells us that this child which is always present in every person must be encouraged to come out every now and then to forget the strife of life. Finally, we have “Ceaseless Wonders”: “The first light at dawn/ The red gold of the sky/ The peaceful gliding of the swans/ And the clouds sailing by.”
We will now take up each of the sections sequentially. ‘Phone Alone’ has six entries on how senior citizens are learning to cope with the new ubiquitous device of the cell phone which has replaced the ‘man’s wallet’ and the ladies ‘lacy handkerchief’ as companion status symbol, but with a difference. This device screams for and gets attention, unlike the staid old landline which sat placidly in the room, and more often than not, did not ring for hours at a stretch. The cell phone, however, is hyper even at siesta time. In addition to the essential task of connecting people to talk, it is also a 24×7 messenger with SMS, WhatsApp, Telegram, Instagram, X, Linked-in, FB, YouTube , endless groups from school, college, cadre; shopping, and of course endless commercials. Emojis are the new shorthand, and PayTM is the preferred mode of financial transaction. The little paper phone books of the past have archival value only for their owners, who may refer to them while doing an autobiographical piece or for general nostalgia: no more, no less.
In the next section on ‘City Woes’, Ratna regrets the loss of the tall eucalyptus trees on the Rajpur Road and along the Parade Ground; now even the verdant greens of the PBG estate have given way to yet another concrete museum/auditorium. The Doon of yore has lost its canals even as the New and Old Canal Roads are prominent pin-codes. She talks of a time when Dehra was a town of tongas which could get city folks from everywhere to the railway station. We have heard of VIPs, but she also talks of PTBs (Powers That Be) who issue inane advisories to ‘keep your city clean’ even as they are responsible for all the potholes which breed the mosquitoes of all shades, shapes and sizes. In “My Countrymen, My Rules”, RM rues the civic habits of our fellow citizens who litter every place under the impression that some divine magic wand will clear the garbage away. While the Tourism Department of Uttarakhand is happy promoting the state as a wedding destination and offering concessions for film crews, she wonders whether the hills have the carrying capacity to bear this additional load.
“Quirky Kinks” is about Oniomanaics who have a ‘compulsive shopping disorder’. Inspired as they are by all the recently invented days devoted to Valentines, mothers, teachers, fathers, daughters, sisters, brothers, women, husbands, wives and Best Friends Forever, they shop endlessly and balance the guilt by saying that their purchases are ethical, sustainable, recyclable and with low carbon footprints! Free(bies) add yet another interesting dimension to this world of shoppers . She then devotes an entire chapter to how she as a MANucha-by-marriage looks at mandarins, maneuvers, mankind, manifestation, mannequins, mangoes, mantling/dismantling, manicures, manhunts, manuals and maniacs. It appears that the entire vocabulary is loaded in favour of man!
Walking Corpse Syndrome (WCS) is the newest coping mechanism, with an RM copyright, to be used liberally when anyone responds to a how-do-you-do with a litany of complaints from heart issues to liver to sciatica and knee replacements. As this is a new and special kind of problem which only readers of her column are aware of, it leads to the other person scurrying for cover. This is the opening score in the fifth section on ‘Socal Graces’, which also has a chapter on how almost all prayer meetings end up in inane chatter and potential match-makers who do not even spare young women who are still in mourning. ‘Passing the Parcel’ is about how gifts for Diwali, birthdays and anniversaries are routinely packed and repacked — but as social circles are nearly the same, there are embarrassing moments when the original gifter gets her own parcel back with her signature skillfully removed from the placeholder! Army wives learn the hard way that regimental colours are never red and yellow, but scarlet and gold, and that the COW (Commanding Officers Wife) is not to be questioned at all, for she knows what is best for the CO and the battalion under his command.
“Friends Forever” is a tribute to all the Rimcolians who assemble year after year for their reunion from 12-14th March each year, and have the incredible capacity to laugh at their own jokes with greater gusto each year. But if Mr Manucha can have all the fun at the Reunion, RM informs us in “A Gal’s Gal Pals” that she has her own friend circles for shopping and coffee and lunches and movies too!
The penultimate section, “Odds and Ends”, has a chapter devoted to Knitflixing – a lexical innovation of the Covid times – to represent knitting while watching content on Netflix. This meant pressing the pause button on the remote every two ‘knit rows’ to avoid jumbling up the sequence of a complicated pattern. And finally, Ratna shares with us in “Covid Capers” the after-effects of staying indoors for too long to suffer from veggie woes and mask mania. But, all in all, despite the challenges and bothers life sends our way, there is “The exquisite beauty of the first snowflake/ The gentleness of the falling snow/ The tranquility, the beauty and the peace/ Will God’s wonders ever cease?”
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