...人有悲欢离合，月有阴晴圆缺，此事古难全。但愿人长久，千里共婵娟。

—— 苏轼 《水调歌头·明月几时有》

“While humankind experiences joy and sadness, separations and reunions, the Moon experiences its dark eclipse or bright crescent, fullness or absence: such are historical cycles that are impossible to be broken.

I can only hope the loved ones can remain together for the longevity of time itself, and they are bathing in the same moonlight even if they are thousands of miles apart.”

- An excerpt from “Shuidiao-Getou (Water Melody)” by Su, Shi. (Translated by Eric Chengyang)

Throughout history, ancient Chinese poets had used the Moon as a symbol of remembrance, and as a medium to express complex feelings in regards to separation and distance, due to the fact that the moon is always available and has its changing phases. For instance, during the Mid-Autumn Festival in the year 1076 AD, Su, Shi (aka. Su, Dongpo; 苏东坡), a famous Song-dynasty poet wrote and addressed his famous ci to his brother from afar. 

Since the date of the Mid-Autumn Festival is determined by the Chinese lunar calendar that tracks the phases of the moon, in the evening, the moon is always round, full, and whole. As indicated in Shu, Shi’s ci-poetry, the full moon not only symbolically represents reunions but also serves as a reminder for gathering. 

Interestingly, the Mid-Autumn Festival (中秋节; on Sept. 21 in 2021) shares similarity with the Canadian Thanksgiving which took place yesterday, with regards to their approximate timing and modern festive customs.

I have always felt a special connection to the Mid-Autumn Festival because of my love and constant craving for mooncakes; unlike most Chinese festive foods, the mooncakes are not available all year round. 

In Canada, Asian grocery shops and bakeries usually start to put out the mooncakes for sale, as if the shops are reminding their customers that another Mid-Autumn Festival is near, and the beloved yet brief Ontarian summer is packing its bags and is departing soon. 

Since mooncakes are seasonal, each year, I always felt a bit sad when I ate the last piece of mooncake over coffee, as I wondered where the unsold, leftover mooncakes had gone after the festival.

At the end of this past summer, when I went shopping in an Asian supermarket with my mom, I saw the stacks of mooncakes at the entrance: a sight that felt so normal that I forgot we were still in a pandemic.

Seeing the boxes of mooncakes again, I recalled a conversation I had with my mom last time when we shopped together. At the time, while we were picking out mooncakes, we were discussing why some mooncake brands had such an unbelievably expensive price tag, and I jokingly told her that maybe those mooncakes’ salted egg filling contained actual gold foil.

This conversation felt so fresh and vivid, that I had the impression as if it had just happened sometime in the summer. However, when I picked up a mooncake box and saw the expiry date, I suddenly realized that the reason I was seeing the mooncakes again, was because a full year had already gone by since we last shopped together.

Image: a Cantonese mooncake (left) & a Suzhou-style mooncake (right), with a cup of dry chrysanthemum-osmanthus tea served in a gaiwan.

After having spent months indoors without leaving the Suburban neighbourhood during the pandemic lock-down, I feel like the grains of time have been unknowingly seeping through the spaces between the grasp of a hand. 

Like the recurring cycles of the Moon’s phases, I have managed to locate my position in time not from a calendar, but rather through the return of the mooncakes, although this year, I was not feeling the sadness because I ate the last piece of mooncake as the festival passed. 

- By Eric Chengyang (墨月无觞) of Dawat Yan Project, on Oct. 12, 2021 (@11:25pm)

To be continued in the form of a visual poetry as the Moon moves. Thank you for reading part #1 and visit the Dawat Yan.

______

Notes & Citations

1. To learn more about the diverse styles of the kandura / thawb / dishdasha, please refer to the following article. Img #01 shows a model with a tarboosh hanging from the neck, and img #03 shows what an Omani tarboosh looks like.

Gulf: What differentiates the Dishdasha from the Kandora?

https://gulfnews.com/photos/lifestyle/gulf-what-differentiates-the-dishdasha-from-the-kandora-1.1601284787970?slide=1

2. Reference for the “tarboosh/tarabeech”:

“Bracelet inspired by the Emirati Tarboosh: Al Ghadeer UAE Crafts x Loreta Bilinskaite-Monie”, by Dubai Design Week

https://www.dubaidesignweek.ae/programme/2019/bracelet-inspired-emirati-tarboosh/

3. A fun fact: due to the different styles of mooncakes (as shown above), Chinese people from different regions tend to eat the mooncakes in distinctive ways:

Northern-Central Chinese tend to eat the mooncake in 1-2 single bites, because their variant of mooncakes has a flaky crust. 

Southern Chinese such as Cantonese, like to cut up the mooncake with a knife, and either eat or share the smaller pieces over tea. 

“Mariam!”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something? I hope you won’t think I’m being rude.”

“Ok. Sure. Go ahead.”

“I don’t see any plants anywhere. I’ve looked and looked, really. I can’t for the life of me understand why you have this watering can in there?”  

I threw my head back in laughter. My dear friend was holding a Lota. 

Image 1: A sturdy, long-lasting, beautifully crafted, stainless steel Lota. This Lota offers a functional facilitation of toilet hygiene, as seen in South Asian toilet customs, while also serving an aesthetic purpose. I inherited this Lota from my mother. This Lota was made in Pakistan and has made a migratory journey to Canada. This Lota offers a sustainable way of using the toilet. The Lota, if used worldwide, could reduce our toilet paper imprint on the planet. Image © Mariam Magsi 2021

The Lota is a rounded vessel with a spout predominantly found in South Asian toilets in Pakistan and India, as well as other Asian countries, albeit in different shapes, varieties and forms. It can be made using a myriad of materials such as plastic and/or stainless steel. The Lota is used to wash the privates, both front and back, and is an integral component of toilet hygiene customs in the Indian subcontinent and also amidst the diaspora. Of the versatile uses of the Lota, I have also seen it being used as a watering vessel for small plants, since the pour of the water is soft and mindful. 

I exhausted my resources looking for peer-reviewed journals on the Lota through my institution’s archives. Research yielded a Lota de Macedo Soares in a countryside near Samambaia in “The Burglar of the Tower of Babel,” but it seems like the tower lacked South Asian toilet hygiene customs. The Lota was not to be found there. I found a Lota in The Journal of Parasitology, but instead of a vessel, I believe they were referencing a freshwater fish from the lota lota genus. There’s a suburb in the city of Brisbane, Queensland, Australia named Lota. A quick Wikipedia search describes the Lota as a vessel that can be found in the Indian subcontinent as far back as the 2nd millenium BC, and it not only informed personal hygiene customs and rituals, but variations of the Lota, made with brass, copper, and other materials, were extensively used in prayers, sacred rituals and communal ceremonies. We must thank the Chalcolithic period cultures of South Asia for gifting the world this beautiful vessel that continues to serve purpose and function in South Asian homes within the subcontinent and across the world, a testament to the obstinance of South Asian culture to submit to the British Empire. The Lota survived, fought, overcame and outlived British rule. The Lota escaped colonization, and continues to do so.

Image 1 is a visual reference of the importance of how these objects are tied in with familial bonding, ancestral lineage and private, unseen, invisible attempts at decolonizing bathroom culture, while remaining rooted to the hygiene customs of our subcontinent’s ancestors. My mother taught me how to use the Lota through practical hygiene demonstrations, solidifying my internal knowledge systems with a specific set of toilet hygiene customs and rituals, that were transmitted to her through her mother, who was taught by her mother, creating a long intergenerational legacy of Lota power. 

Image 2: This Lota belongs to my maternal cousin, Adeela. It was made in Pakistan and migrated to the UK. Her husband, Fassi suggested using it as a plantar, which is such a lovely idea, but Adeela rightfully claimed it for herself. In her words: “No! I want a pretty Lota washing my butt.” The design you see on the surface of this Lota is inspired by Truck Art which is an entire industry of its own in South Asia. This Lota was purchased from Zainab Market in Karachi, Pakistan. Image © Adeela Badshah

My mother didn’t only teach me how to use the Lota, but also emphasized, through practice, that this important component of toilet hygiene was an integral part of our faith. While a wide array of religions, ideologies, belief systems, cultural customs, hierarchies, and laws can be found in South Asia, one can access some form of the Lota, or the other, in mosques, temples, churches, schools, public washrooms etc. A common, daily life practice, that unites billions across the globe, irrespective of class, ethnic background and gender. Having visited Muslim, Hindu, Christian and Zoarastrian homes in Pakistan, I have always had access to the Lota, a symbol of a private act that signifies our unity. Those lucky enough to be our lovers, close friends and non-desi kin and chosen family gain entry into this special community of humans on the planet. My husband swears by the Lota after discovering its vast benefits and unbeatable squeaky clean results. #LotaPower 

I initially posted Image 1 on Instagram and received an enthusiastic response from friends and family. A fellow South Asian migrant friend, with roots in India, shared a wonderful memory of how in her family, the vessel used, was called, a Mug. This is an interesting cultural overlap, because at our family residence in Karachi, Pakistan, buckets with plastic “Mugs” are placed in all spaces reserved for bathing. My mother would refer to them as “Mugs” as well, and sometimes, when she seamlessly transitioned from English to Urdu to Punjabi, she would say “Mugga.” She bathed her whole life, seated on a stool, with a bucket of water and a Mug. Through this method of bathing, she was able to conserve more water, which would otherwise be wasted in a stand up shower. 

Image 3: Plastic bathing mugs © ebay

I have never quite been able to assimilate to North American toilet hygiene norms. While bidets and hand-held Muslim showers can be found in bathrooms in Europe and the Middle East, they’ve certainly not taken off as a mainstream practice in North America.

Image 4: The other side of the Lota featured in Image 2 has this gorgeous peacock painted on the surface floating through a lush, green garden on a carpet of vibrant roses. The artwork on the Lota tells a story, and transports the viewer and the user to an imaginative world filled with possibility. Image © Adeela Badshah

I often carry an extra bottle of water when I visit non-desi homes and public spaces in case I have to use the toilet. I’ve introduced the Lota to several Canadian families, many of whom have adopted the practice as a welcome new addition to their daily toilet hygiene. My friends and chosen family members often make arrangements for a Lota in their washrooms when I visit their homes, particularly those who know me well, and are familiar with the customs I value. I do appreciate these kind, inclusive, mutually beneficial gestures.

I came across an awesome work of art by Pakistani illustrator, Samya Arif, featuring a portable, collapsable Lota: https://gotalota.com/ - If you sign up on their website you’ll get a light-hearted, humorous newsletter, which is a total bonus. Where was this genius invention during my now retired raving days?

Image 5: Artwork for Gotalota by Samya Arif: https://www.samyaarif.com/

Recently, I have also seen companies like Tushy advertising easy to attach bidets. Though I could just as easily install bidets or hand-held Muslim showers in my bathroom, I prefer the traditional Lota method of my ancestors. This practice keeps me grounded to home, connected with my desi roots, carrying forward a wise and sustainable method of hygiene that has benefitted members of my community for centuries. May the #LotaPower be with you.

Image 6: Plastic milk pitcher milk bag holder © shopperplus.ca - A true rite of passage for all desi migrants to Canada. What a lifesaver!

Notes-:

History of Lota: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lota_(vessel)

Lota at the MET: https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/444557

Gota Lota: https://gotalota.com/

Samya Arif: https://www.samyaarif.com/Album-Art

Tushy: https://hellotushy.com 

Journal of Parasitology: The Effect of Echinorhynchus borealis (Acanthocephala) Infection on the Anti-Predator Behavior of a Benthic Amphipod

Burbot (lota lota) : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burbot

Lota, Australia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lota,_Queensland

Plastic Milk Pitcher: https://www.living.ca/p-369932-lvc-rs2000-milk-pitcher

Because “dawat” and “yan” share various similar meanings, “Dawat Yan” will always signify an invitation to a feast, irrespective of whether readers are accustomed to read from left to right, or right to left.

The graphics of the logo captures the overlaps between two distinctive cultures by featuring a karahi (کڑاہی) or wok (镬 or huo in Mandarin): two similarly shaped pots commonly used in Pakistani and Chinese cooking, respectively.

Left: a cast iron karahi with a Chicken Karahi (courtesy of Mariam Magsi) Right: a wok with tomato & egg stir-fry (photo from Wikimedia Commons by Mx. Granger)

Can food unite us by transcending race, class, gender, conceptual borders and physical distance?

By peeling the layers of Pakistani and Chinese cuisines through an artistic and creative process, the Dawat Yan Project is a gathering in which we explore the sophisticated ingredients of food: including history, culture, and intergenerational knowledge.

In the previous experimental iteration of “Chai” I provide our guests with multiple access points into a family inspired oratory piece, accompanied by photographs of Chai served in a variety of cups, in multiple locations around the world. This variety and nuance is further echoed in the “Sanpaotai Eight Treasure Tea” post by fellow artist and co-creator of the Dawat Yan Project, Eric Chengyang. By now, our guests have learnt new knowledge, that when you ask for “green tea” or “chai” to deeply think about what kind of tea you’re asking for and how you would like for it to be served to you.

What cooking method?

Which region?

What receptacle?

Nuance is very important, even more-so, than the imaginative quest for authenticity.

Chai II opens with a nursery rhyme commonly taught to desi children in South Asia. The tongue twists and pushes against the roof, creating a distinct, deliberate melody that makes it less challenging to memorize the words. Repetition is not the most ideal way to learn new information and knowledge, but it is a method often used for the transference of knowledge. 

The nursery rhyme begins to glitch out at “doubleroti biscut” (bread and biscuit), and repeats itself. The words point to a partitioned history and previous unity that is always there, but often erased and forgotten.

“Dilli say laya billi.”

“He brought a cat from Delhi.”