Nourish-n-Cherish

The Junior Hydrographer’s Revenge: A Maritime Tale

I was wearing a t-shirt that said, “I am introverting!”and skipped my way to the pile of books by my bedside table. Maritime adventures awaited.

I was reading the book, The Sea Chart – By John Blake

The book is fascinating to thumb through. Maps in varying degrees of intrigue, complexity and use over the years is there, along with plenty of information about maritime cartography. It also contains interesting anecdotes such as the one about the junior hydrographer’s revenge.

The Junior Hydrographer’s Revenge

A lieutenant in the Royal Navy of England served under one of the hardest captains of maritime history at the time: Captain Alvin Coote Corry. The man had more officers court-martialed than all the other captains of the time put together. Naturally, he was not a beloved leader.

His discipline led to being obeyed, but the last laugh is still reverberating through the ages.

It was a beautiful day in the Aegean Sea near modern day Greece. The year was 1903. The ship, HMS Hydra, and crew had just docked at Port Mudros for a rare day off, and the pleasant conditions on the island beckoned. Much like his fellows, a junior hydrographer, Captain Lockyer, was looking forward to shooting partridges and dreaming about being reunited with his girlfriend back home. He had a special name for her too, Nulma. Dreams about Nulma, and a day loping after partridges looking out in the Aegean Sea – what more could he ask for?

The joy must have shown on his crew’s face, for the disciplinarian in Captain Alvin Coote Corry could not permit it. He ordered them to survey the island, and each of them were tasked with a hard day’s labor. Cartography, in the absence of modern technology is a demanding routine, and the hydrographers were miffed.

Lieutenant Lockyer seeing that he had no option but to obey the irascible Captain got his revenge though: He named four hills on the chart which was then sold world-wide: Yam, Yrroc, Eb, and Denmad. Read backwards, the import is clear.

He also named a hill he liked after his girlfriend, Nulma.

Maritime Stories

Maritime adventures over the past 2000 years have been fantastic at times (ex: the creation of Carta Marina. It is a fascinating geological map showing the mythical monsters in the oceans and where they are to be found. )

The Kraken Sleepeth

Completed by Olaus Magnus in Italy in the mid sixteenth century, it attempts to outline all the monsters known at the time in the Nordic regions from various accounts.

With modern technology, the seas have been explored much more, but still retain an allure and a mystery that beckons humanity.

The Poochandi: Fear, Eunoia, and Allodoxaphobia

The Poochandi

“Acchichoo – Poochaandi varum!”

Many of us growing up must’ve heard of the famed poochandi. He is ominous and omnipresent. The poochandi is the South Indian version of the bogeyman

In one of R K Narayan’s stories in the Grandmother’s Tales or Malgudi Days, I forget which one, he writes about this vague poochandi. The poochandi is a ghost or nefarious persona, whose purpose in life seems to vary: Frighten children into swallowing the next morsel of rice, or getting the slightly older ones to come home soon, or the daughter-in-law of the house to light the lamps on time every time.

I remember thinking that the poochandi seemed like a busy, if slightly jobless character.

As we grew older, the poochandi was replaced by ‘They’ as in Society.

What would They say?

🫠 You aren’t making a 5 course meal in between the 3 course meals that are each 4 hours apart? What would They say?

🫠You aren’t wearing a 9 yard saree so you can pour water droplets on a coconut? What would They say?

🫠You aren’t making murukkus as well as halwa for Diwali? What would They say?

They were all-knowing & all-judging.

If you were perfect, They knew all the ways in which you were not.

So imagine finding out that fear of what They would say actually has a word?

Allodoxaphobia & Eunoia

Allodoxaphobia: fear of what other people think of you.

I first read the word in the book, Build the life you want – by Oprah Winfrey, Arthur C Brooks

Allodoxaphobia can work in strange ways – sometimes, it can make us function in ways that enhance our positive qualities. Other times, it can burden us with a mindset that we neither grow out of, nor discard easily.

They and the Poochandi worked full-time to keep you pliant.

In the face of this, what can we do to retain and maintain our eunoia?

Eunoia? You ask. I am glad you asked. You didn’t? Well, here I go anyway.

Eunoia – is a beautiful word that signifies a positive and kind disposition. The kind of personality that develops out of cultivating beautiful thinking or a well-balanced mind.

The ability to choose without spurning, live without hurting (others or ourselves), etc are extraordinarily hard things to do. It is why philosophers set great store by it and acknowledged this to be a great thing.

Sometimes what They say, and what the poochandi threatens aligns with our inner sense of eunoia. But when they don’t align, how do we balance the cultivation of eunoia against what They will say?

Eunoia means doing the hard work of finding our morality, and sticking by it regardless of what They say, even if the Poochandi will find you for it. Eunoia means being personable and helpful without giving yourself over to Them and Their demands.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I’d like to find the poochandi and work with them to change what They say. A Poochandi who will give you a nod or a pat on your back when you clip unkindness in the face. A Poochandi who will not turn a blind eye to cruelty, and arrogance, say?

Here is a two-part question to you?

What would you like your Poochandi to do?
How do you cultivate Eunoia?

20 Years of Blogging: Cherishing Ordinary Lives and Moments

Two Decades of Writing

Some gifts are marvelous in how they keep giving. Writing is one such gift: a gift that enables us to find light and joy in our lives. Just like that, this month marks two decades of my blogging journey. 20 years or 1040 weeks in which I wrote 1-2 posts a week, every week. (#syzygy)

Upanayanam: Insights into a Traditional Ceremony

Upanayanam – Thread Ceremony

The husband and I found ourselves stupendously stumped. You see? We celebrated the son’s thread ceremony. We had managed to get in the middle of organizing and executing a function that smacked of our curious mixture of naïveté and fun.

So much so that a lot of people were very happy, a few people held their tongues with pursed lips and stiff jaws (some even graciously told us that it is indeed what they were doing), and a precious few reveled in their self-glorified role of saying things-as-it-is (any politically savvy person knows what this means. But seeing as Yours Truly is particularly poorly suited to this, took some getting used to).

Summoned like a Woman!

Like all religious functions, this one excluded women, but insisted they were there for all the work. The organizing, the decorating, the gift-giving, the hosting. Just nothing religious. Every time I looked particularly bored on that stage, the priest would give me something to do.

“Take that drop of water, and drip it on the coconut, amma!”

“Hold this bunch of dried grass against the shoulder, amma!”

Then, a chuckle. “Not that shoulder amma, this shoulder!”

While all of these tasks weren’t exactly skillful, they ensured it kept me there. Otherwise, the poor priest found me wandering off the stage to talk to people.

Then, summons were sent. Summoning the lady of the house on stage at a religious function is a curious case study of sonar technology and people movements. Every one calls out for you, and nobody realizes or remembers why I was summoned. Like a wave gathering in intensity before crashing on the shores.

Summoned!

Smiles to go before I sleep!

“How come you are smiling in all the pics, while I…”

“Look like you’re having your tooth extracted?” I finished smugly.

The husband paused to frown and then smiled, “Yes – like that!”

“Easy! I had absolutely nothing to do but smile at people. Also, I looked for the phones and smiled pointedly. There’s a lot of time for not understanding a thing, and being dressed to the nines up there.” I said.

“Talk about unfair – look how I looked in all the pics: confused, concentrating on getting the words right, while you…”

“Pranced and fluttered about the room? There are advantages to being a butterfly.”

So, that is how we survived a thread ceremony, without storm warnings.

Nilgiris: Nature’s Abundance on an Early Drive

“We need to leave by 4:30 a.m. if we are to beat the traffic!” the brother said.

There were enthusiastic nods. I kept the alarm for 3:30 a.m, confident in our abilities to get going that early in the morning. After all, there is nothing as pleasant as a drive up to the Nilgiris from Bangalore.

The route passes through two beautiful national forest reserve areas – Bandipur and Mudhumalai. The hills are usually green and welcoming at this time of year. Early summer in the Nilgiris is a joy – there are flowers blooming everywhere, the rivers and streams are flowing with healthy levels of water, and all of life seems like it should be: Full of beauty and abundance.

I had quite forgotten the true splendor of a gulmohar tree in full bloom, but oh! What a joy to see these resplendent looking trees!

You can spend all day gazing up at the branches – all the different ways in which the light dances and trickles through the very orange blossoms, all the different shapes the branches have spread themselves – no two trees the same, yet distinctive enough that they cannot be misunderstood for another tree.

The brother who is always in his element when he is driving anywhere other than city roads, shook his head as he saw me bouncing in my seat. He pulled over by a side road, and if you were to ask me the previous evening to imagine this road, I would not have been able to do it justice. I grew up in the Nilgiris, and have visited many times in the past two decades, but every time the hills surprise me (mostly good ways, but the increasing population and traffic snarls contribute to the bad ways)

I tumbled out of the car, my heart bursting with song. Luckily it was just my heart that was singing, for who wants to frighten a bunch of elephants taking a calm dip in the Moyar River?

The peacocks cooing in the distance provided a musical backdrop.

As we headed back to the winding road of 36 hairpin bends, all of the forest seemed to have risen. There were peacocks, sambar deer and spotted deer, iguana-like creatures, monkeys, langurs, and elephants. I cannot think of another experience where the soul feels as nourished or sated.

By the time we had passed through the forests, we had been filled with the beautiful imagery of flora and fauna of the Nilgiri Hills. It is always so humbling to call this marvelous place home along with the thousands of creatures who live more unobtrusively in these parts.

The cheeky road signs only added to the allure of the morning forest scenes.

“Watch for deer crossing the road, remember the road is crossing their home!”

“Attention: Crocodiles in the River – do not swim. Survivors will be prosecuted.”

Development of Morality & Value Systems

Going back to a high school reunion after 3 decades is nothing short of illuminating. We had planned to meet regularly while leaving school. Then somehow, we all scattered into our various little lanes and holes, only to resurface like eager bunny rabbits after all these years.

As far as social experiments go, this has to be one of the most interesting.

Life seems to have been inventive, unique and predictable at the same time in all the ways it presented us with trials and tribulations. As we walked through the hallways of our school – it was curious to see how we fell back into familiar patterns of who we navigate towards. In 3 days time, it seems we fell back to familiar patterns and the intervening decades might not have happened at all.

This fascinating behavior led to an interesting discussion on the subject and development of morality and values. At what point in time do we actually develop values, and our internal moral compasses?

I was shocked to find out that morality can start to form under the age of 1, and can easily be noticed between the ages of 2-5. Of course, morality and value systems continue to develop in noticeable leaps and bounds – till we are 10 years of age, then as teens shaped by societal and peer pressure, and as adults. But are they largely shaped by our early childhood? If there are any psychologists or anthropologists who have studied this, please let me know your thoughts. I would be interested to know.

Morality & Values

Childhood friends, when met after decades apart, can resurface memories good and bad. It was interesting to see how friendships played out over all these years. Sometimes, geographic proximity helped shape adult bonds. Sometimes, the bonds of friendships survived geographic distances.

However, when gathered back in such a large group of classmates, it was interesting to note all the ways in which we fell back to familiar patterns in a matter of 3 days. The ones who were friends in school seemed to fall back into their familiar groups, even while a few new friendships were forged.

A friend and I fell into a stimulating discussion on morality and values. It is obvious that we are drawn to people with values we admire. So, when looking back at our childhood selves, when was the inner moral compass formed? How did we know whether to be attracted to kindness or the lack of it? Were we drawn towards lightness of being and joy?

Could we be trained into ways of coping – I am sure we can. Pavlov’s experiment is proof of that. Our own behavioral patterns formed so early in childhood help shape how we navigate through life. Some of us are conflict avoiders, some conflict seekers, others do not seek conflict, but do not flinch when it comes to them.

Is there an Inherent Moral Compass

I remember having a subject called Moral Science in primary and elementary school. It was a lovely class if only because the stories were always interesting, but how much did that help shape our inner compass, I wonder. It is true that reading about myths, and relatable struggles help us through our own. Hopefully, for most of us, our inner compass is strong in good times. It becomes tougher in times of stress and strife, and somehow life only makes these situations more and more complex.

Given that some of us had become friends when we were 5 years old, it was curious indeed. A quick google search reveals that moral based behaviors can be observed in children as early as 2 years old. So, is there such a thing as an inherent moral compass, and can we change ourselves enough and embrace growth through our learned experiences quite as much? Which brings us neatly to the nurture vs nature debate, and we could go on all day and all night.

https://www.mentalhealth.com/library/understanding-moral-development#:~:text=Between%20the%20ages%20of%202,when%20they%20break%20the%20rules.

There are values and morals shaped when we begin to question authority as teenagers, and then as adults when we learn a little bit more about all the shades of grey, character motivations, and the like.

What are your thoughts?

Do you think that our moral choices begin to be shaped in infancy, and if so, can they be changed over time (not just in small increments but in polar ways)
When that young, do we consciously migrate towards value systems that appeal to us, or not?

https://www.betterhelp.com/advice/morality/morality-quotes-to-help-us-better-understand-ourselves/

The Magic of Shared Success

I am grateful I went to school for our high school reunion after all these years.

I have always loved the military traditions the school is steeped in, but seeing it all come together in such a spectacular fashion as a spectator was magical.

The band was spectacular as ever, and after coming back to ‘normal life’, I miss the background music of the school band at all times of day. The band room was always full of enthusiasts – drummers, sax players, buglers, bagpipers, and a whole bunch of noises unrelated to music too. There was band practice in the mornings, band classes during the day, beating the retreat practice in the evenings, so there was music wafting in and around our lives at all times when school was in session.

There were sports, parade practices, and PT displays in our day too. But seeing the levels to which these shows have risen in their execution and creativity was enough to make my heart sing.

There were morning shows, evening shows and late night ones. Shows in which the children and staff had worked tirelessly all year long to pull off a brilliant endeavor. Sunset sensations featuring Yoga shows, laser shows, band displays etc were brilliantly done.

The Parade was a huge success as well. The Beating Retreat signaling the close of all the festivities was just as a marvelous.

There is something about these programs involving hundreds of children that always gives me goosebumps. The strain of collaborative success running through all of these, is nothing but inspirational. Everybody has to ensure that they and everybody else is up to the mark, and work towards making it so. Or the whole troop/band/display fails.

Why do more schools, or corporates for that matter, have activities like these?

Years later, when we reflect on these experiences, there is nothing but affection for those of us who worked and excelled together, and what better outcome in life is there to achieve?

“We cannot seek achievement for ourselves and forget about progress and prosperity for our community…Our ambitions must be broad enough to include the aspirations and needs of others, for their sakes and for our own.”

— Cesar Chavez

Reflecting on 30 Years at a High School Reunion

30 years 30 minutes

When we look back on life – what do you tell those who knew you when you were but a little girl? Some had grown into more distinguished versions of themselves, few were hardly recognizable (especially those who had embraced facial hair – mustaches, beards, and the like), and a rare few looked far younger than their biological age.

There was a strange moment when I asked a fellow classmate, “I am sorry, I am unable to recognize you – can you remind me who you are?”

“Oh come on Saumya!” He said, and I felt a flush creep up my cheek.

“Not the right response man!” I said laughing, as he reminded me with a helpful anecdote to place him.

In 30 years, a lifetime has passed, and yet felt like a heartbeat.

Sounds cliched I know. Probably the thing that everyone who has attended a high school reunion feels.

As I gazed fondly around the room taking in the whirlwind of activity and the people who were at school with me, I felt gratitude first for all the memories. Even the bitter ones seemed to have attained a bitter-sweet tinge to it, which did not quite seem possible at the time.

When we left school 3 decades ago, everything felt sharp – in a way that teenagers can feel. The angst, the turbulence, the weight of expectations, the sense of trepidation for what lies ahead. And then somehow, life happened in those moments of angst. The years rolled by. Careers were made, lives were built, children were birthed and raised, and through it all, our families and friends bore the thrum of Lawrence School almost like background music.

It was fantastic to see where life had led us all in the three decades since. Many had embraced growth, some had endured it, and a few had denied it. But we were all swimming across the river and continuing to brave the currents. Some of us were still in the whirlwinds of the swift currents, some were looking forward to the quiet moments of water lapping around the shores on the opposite side. Regardless of where we were in life though, there was an enormous affection.

I remember thinking as a girl why the Old Lawrencians made such a fuss about their reunions decades later – they all seemed to be so happy to be there with their hair greying and limbic nimbility dwindling. I understand now.

People Currents

It was curious to see the patterns emerging after all these years. How we sought out the people we liked, had a polite curiosity about the people we didn’t, and found out about the ones we respected after all these years. Finding out about those who had exceeded expectations, those who braved life’s storms with equanimity and grace, and those who had simply let themselves go in the intervening years.

As we traded our life stories, it was humbling to see all the different and varied ways in which the world had tested and tried us over the past few decades. Love makes us endure horrendous things just as much as it makes us do inspiring things. It is no wonder there is a Love door in the Department of Mysteries in the Harry Potter Universe!

Life truly is a mystic game. I was reminded several times of the quote by Leo Tolstoy:

All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way

Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

As we took several walks down the memory lane, each one had recollections of their life in boarding school that was unique: sometimes traumatic, other times funny, many times reflections on moments of personal growth and realization. I don’t think I’ve laughed this much over inane things since adulthood.

Just for that, it was all worth it.

April Highlights: Poetry Month and Stress Awareness

April is a beautiful month of Spring. It also is Poetry Month, Stress Awareness Month, and plays host to several days such as Earth Day, World Reading Day, International Dance Day, and we found out quite recently, World Quantum Day.

Trying to accommodate all these different aspects into reading and experiences can be quite the adventure if you let it.

For Stress Awareness Month, we released the fourth episode of Sitare Spotlight. This time, our guest was Salima Banu Iezzey. Salima is a fitness coach, adventurer and nutritionist. The conversations with her were a good reminder for all the tenets of good living. Simple things we can do for daily well-being, bigger adventure goals and healthy eating. Please check it out here:

Sitare Spotlight Ep.4: Salima Banu Iezzey on Fitness, Adventure & Wellbeing

https://youtu.be/Tpirxjy_u8U?si=2-3P_Q7ltAgjpChA

For Poetry Month, apart from dipping into poetry collections from time to time, this time I also read about the life and times of Emily Dickinson. It was fascinating to see how the few poems of hers that did make it to publication during her lifetime were published anonymously by her friends and family members.

Book: Becoming Emily – the life of Emily Dickinson – Krystyna Poray Goddu (what a fascinating way to spell Krystyna?)

It was only after her death that her friend and niece got her poems published – a little tug of war between them to see who had access to more poems. It is also interesting to note that like Jane Austen, Emily Dickinson too hailed from a family that valued education, and somehow, even during those times of limited financial independence for women, were unmarried. That probably explains the prodigious work they were able to turn out in their lifetimes.

On Earth Day I gazed down upon Earth as we took off and flew over arid deserts, lush green forests, snowy stretches, oceans brimming with life, on my travels. All the time marveling at humankind and our ability to create a safe mode of transport in the air when we neither have the wings nor the air-borne buoyancy required to pull it off. Our innovation helping us gaze over the beautiful planet and peer into the maps being flashed on the screens”

Flying over Deer Lake, Cat Lake, Big Trout Lake, Sam Lake, Kingfisher lake, Wunnumin Lake – past Saskatchewan and Ontario

Quaktaq – Past Hudson Bay – where I remembered reading about the Great Bear Sea and the Arctic Unicorns (Narwhals)

Then I zoomed and chuckled over whimsical, interesting and beautiful names: Pikangikum, Quaktaq, Akulivik Puvirnituk.

One of the many futures of AI innovations may whisper in my head the meanings or origins of each of these names, but for now, it was enough for me to muse. Imagine nonsensical little things about their etymology, the languages, or the peoples who named them. I wonder why we don’t spend more time as amateur cartographers, naming the little nooks and corners of our daily walks. I remember telling someone to meet me at Reflection Pond, and then remembering that there was no Reflection Pond on the map. It was simply a name the children and I had come up for the dear pond on one of our many strolls. It was the time of sunset, the pink and orange hues above our heads were beautifully reflected in the serene waters below, and we sat there, each of us lost in our own reflections.

Celebrate International Dance Day: A Journey Through Dance Dramas

International Dance Day is coming.

One of the best things about my dance teacher was how she helped transform the world on the stage with mere mortals. Children of varying interest levels, abilities and time. We somehow knew each other’s pieces, and the rehearsals became a place of camaraderie and belonging like nothing I have known since. Friendships formed in the orbit of practice, each of us helping or being helped as the D-day drew near. The energy of practice was always enough to bring a smile. No matter how hard or terrible a day you’d been having, if you have to smile and dance when it is your turn, it does something to you, and you find yourself in a better frame of mind without even trying.

How I wish dancing, singing, art, literature, creative writing, team and adventure sports are all a part and parcel of everyone’s life on a regular basis. Without having to carve time for it, without yearning for it, without having to take the car or public transit to plan for it. What a luxury that would be?

As we spend time working, we spend time in our creative pursuits – intellectual, or physical.

As the children grew up, I had the chance to attend many dance programs, arangetrams and productions over the years. As soul-nourishing as they all were/are, I still yearn for the dance dramas that my childhood teacher was so good at conceptualizing, choreographing, composing, teaching and performing. Who cannot be caught up in the climax of Mohini skillfully directing Bhasmasura towards annihilating himself through dance, or Mahishasura Mardini, or any other epic being played out on stage?

While I yearned for multi-dancer theatrical dramas played out on stage, I was also keenly aware of why they were difficult to pull off. In a society where the number of hours were optimized, did you dedicate time for learning your margam of items – the standard pushpanjali/kowthwam, alarippu, jasthiswaram, shabdam, varnam, keerthanais and thillana so that you can prepare for an arangetram in that time, or spend a part of that time with a dance drama production? It is a tricky situation complicated by expectations of society – individual performances merited standardized margams, dance dramas demand a different format.

So, whenever I get the chance to go to a dance drama, I practically dance into the auditorium myself.

Nirupama Vaidyanathan’s Journeys of Faith based on Shoba Narayan’s book, Food & Faith

In recent years, I have had the pleasure of attending a few of these theatrical productions. Nirupama Vaidyanathan’s Journeys of Faith based on Shoba Narayan’s book, Food & Faith was one such. Nirupama is always skilled at having multiple dancers quickly move together, seamlessly, in beautiful patterns on stage. She managed to incorporate standard thillana-style formats etc into this production which I thought was a very clever way to balance the needs of the student and the theatrical dance drama format.

That dance performance was amazing. Nirupama is a clear orator, and in this production, her voice overs, where she was narrating pieces from the book as she set the stage for the Palani Murugan temple or the Udipi Srikrishna Temple were amazingly done. She had the music pieces composed, and stitched together for the dance drama. I just have to close my eyes to see the way all her senior students came together on stage at the very end to show how the prasadam in a big temple kitchen is prepared. Who cannot be filled by a performance like that, followed by an excellent prasadam at the Livermore Temple afterwards?

She combined literature, theatre, dance and music in such a satisfying and eloquent manner that a year after the actual performance, I am able to recall the transformation of the stage in her skilled and capable hands.

Meenakshi Sundareshwarar Dance Drama

I had a similar feeling with the Meenakshi Sundareswarar dance performance by Sharanya Ganesan. It has been a few months since her dance school staged the dance drama to which I was invited. But, was it a transformative experience?! She managed to fill the stage with students of every stage in their dancing journey.

There was the child Meenakshi, the young-adult Meenakshi, and the adult Meenakshi – with all the dancers accompanying the stories filling the stage with their rhythmic jathis, their quick and coordinated movements. The stage ebbed and flowed with the dancers themselves. The costumes – oh the costumes! Bharatanatyam costumes are always a joy to behold, but on that stage, they took on a fantastic life of their own. Except for the main characters of the story – Meenakshmi, her parents, Sundareshwarar etc, everyone was clothed in combinations of cream and (red, pink, violet, or green). I have always loved the cream colored combinations, and on that stage housing over 50 dancers, they all stood out and merged together.

The dance performance itself co-ordinated across all the batches of children she teaches must have been both a joy and a huge project in and of itself. Every group knew of the pieces they needed to perform, but according to her senior students who spoke to the audience afterwards, the whole thing was a concept weaved together into the magic it transformed into only in Sharanya Ganesan’s head.

On YouTube Please!

Every time I look for entertainment to watch, I yearn to see if these dance dramas would be on YouTube or Netflix. I wish they were. For I love to watch a good dance drama on a cold evening – I end up watching some dance pieces, but a good dance drama choreographed, executed with such talent, beauty and grace would be something that I would love to see every now and then, or even on a flight.

There are always good ones we miss out on because of conflicts – how marvelous it would be, if we could manage to fill our souls with the performances later? I am on a flight to South India – thumbing through the entertainment available on the flight, I thought to myself that I would love to see The Whispers of the Kaveri when I am traveling to the very lands of the Kaveri river – Tamil Nadu & Karnataka.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: