TO THE RICE COOKER...

... What would I do without you?

Turn back the clock to a few years ago, when the kitchen was entirely alien territory to yours truly. (The hubby not-so-quietly opines that some things don't change, but that's for another post.) Had the BFF over to lunch one afternoon, and the trusting Mum left me to my own devices whilst she popped over to the market on her jaunt for veggies. One request she made was "put the rice on, three whistles should do it, before you can turn it off". Days of the pressure cooker, these. Uh-huh, so I look at the clock, turn on the gas stove and wait for the rice to happily cook itself. Some time later, and with no response in terms of the three promised whistles, am wondering what to do. Just then, the BFF walks in, and is informed of my query. Horrified, she learns that I've not put in any water in the cooker itself - turns out it's a situation (quite literally) waiting to explode! Seems you need to have water not only in the rice vessel itself, but also in the cooker... whew!

Today, my love affair with my rice cooker begins. No pressure cookers for me, but swear by this multi-purpose (it even steams veggies!) rice cooker instead.

Basic rice:

1 portion rice

2 portions water

Salt, butter/ ghee to taste (if you want to)

All you have to do is plug in the rice cooker and wait for the fragrant aroma to waft past... and that's it! Enjoy the rice!

THE TWILIGHT SAGA

So it's my latest obsession... move over, Harry Potter!

POP THE CHAMPAGNE!

It's that time of the year again, ladies and gentlemen, when we pop the bubbly to celebrate another year of togetherness... a.k.a. marriage in some circles.
Decided to take stock of the last year, suggested we make it a fun 'you and me together' exercise. Disdainful looks from the significant other put those plans to rest...
... Still planning, wondering how to spend the day... A pleasant surprise holiday by way of elections in the city is only adding to the happiness!

Watch this space!

HMPH!

And that is the husband's idea of decorating my birthday cake this year. *rolling eyes in head* Really, now!

HAPPY NEW YEAR, WORLD!

Remember when we'd counted down to the year 2000. The Y2K bug was something stores here took rather literally: I wound up purchasing this little plushie, a cheerful caterpillar in blue-yellow-blue-yellow (you get the drift...), all togged out in a perky red hat and green shoes, with '2000' printed across it.

Some eight-odd years , the caterpillar remains, and we head towards another year... Let's see what this one brings.

RECAP

Events at work.
Stress. Worry. Resolutions.
Birthdays. Anniversaries. Celebrations at home.
Fights. Arguments. Disagreements. Differences of opinion. Making up.
All this and more went into 2008.

The New Year's around the corner.

IN MEMORIUM

Miss you, Azoba.
I sometimes marvel at the relationship we had... Spent most of my time being in awe of you; you always seemed so much larger than life. You fascinated me with stories of your travels and the exotic places you'd visited: I'd look forward to your visits with Ajji, wide-eyed, and waiting to see pictures. Pictures that transported me to where you'd just been, whether it was seeing the peacocks gracefully picking their way along your backyard, or your ginger cat Laalu. Your steel-gray Nissan (which was a dream!) with you at the wheel, smiling into the camera, your eyes all crinkly and bright.
As I grew up, the awe turned into admiration for all you'd done, for what you'd become. Walking along the roads of your hometown, standing in front of the dilapidated block of flats you stayed in - Mum showed us our roots. And what strong roots they are, with you always having been firmly grounded in reality.
I'm sure your world with Ajji today is as vibrant and multi-hued as this one with us was. I won't even start to say that I miss you so.

Happy birthday.

NOVEMBER

It's all about the memories.

It's odd how while pleasant, they can bring a tear to your eye. Even while you're reminiscing about time well spent in the company of people you love, how a sliver of memory slinks in to your consciousness and brings with it a small sharp stab of pain. How you wish you could turn back the time, have just that one more day with the person you love. How you wish that they were near you.

Maybe they are. Maybe they're just looking down at you, you who are encompassed in their eternal love.

I'll be thinking about this all through November.

FIRECRACKERS!

Umm, I share a love-hate relationship with these, really.

Just don't like the loud sounds. Or the smoke. Or the smog that just envelopes the air. The green me wakes up around this time, and grumbles to anyone who'll listen about the gasping, wheezing environment. I swear that the world around is shrouded in depressed stale air.

Now here's the love part: firecrackers signal the festive season. Colours. Family. Friends. Food. What's not to like?

Green versus human nature. Ergo, we fence sit.

OF BIRTHDAYS AND THINGS

Have always enjoyed having a birthday from the time that I can remember.

Sharing a birth month with my sibling meant that we'd have a combined birthday party - twice the number of friends, cakes, presents (interesting!) and double the fun as well! Birthdays while growing up meant a party at home with Mum and Dad planning everything weeks in advance, painstakingly working on the menu, the invitee list and sundry other details, just to ensure that we kids had the perfect birthday. Home-made savoury snacks, desserts and the ubiquitous cake, chips and soft drinks, games such as musical chairs and passing-the-parcel, streamers, buntings and balloons adorning the walls, paper plates and towels, plastic spoons and glasses, the last-minute preparations and running around... And there we'd be on the selected evening, blowing out the candles, cutting cake, and smilingly receiving the presents (and wondering just when they could be opened!), eating, playing games and pressing return presents into our friends' hands.

Those were the days, when birthday parties were put together and not manufactured. When it wasn't about the commercialism but the feeling. When life wasn't just about greeting cards and fast food chains and birthday party organisers.

THIS ONE'S FOR RAAVAN

It's Dusshera time, and I see people getting ready to burn effigies of Raavan almost everywhere I go. Of course, you do know that this stems from the Ramayana, wherein, to cut and long (and very interesting!) story short, it was necessary for Lord Rama to defeat Raavan and bring peace to the land (among other things). In short, it was a battle to the finish, of good versus evil.

Naturally, Lord Rama, being the good guy (and I'm not even disputing the fact!) has always been portrayed to be the epitome of the ideal man, while Raavan, on the other hand, being evil, is dark and somewhat sinister. There are seemingly very few positive attributes that are associated with his character.

Here's where I beg to differ: it is possible to look at Raavan in a new light? It is possible to see him as a more complex, layered individual? Is it possible to add a few gray facets to his character, and view him as a more rounded person? Is it possible to not just tarnish him with black, but paint him as more real?

Maybe this applies to the Raavan in all of us.

HEY BABY!

Flashback to the time back in school, when we’d sit at your kitchen window, sampling yummy stuff courtesy your mum’s culinary skills… To the time when we’d swap books to read, and discuss the characters like they were friends… And also to the time when we figured babies were not our most favourite topic of discussion!!

Cut to the present. Clichéd but true – how I’d love to be there at this special time in your life, when you’re probably still sitting at a kitchen window (this time, your own), maybe reading a book…. A baby book. (So how many people have had you read ‘What to expect when you’re expecting’?) Now, when a baby is so eagerly awaited, a precious l’il gift already so wanted and loved!

Wish you loads and loads of fun times with Baby! May each day bring with it wonderful moments that you’ll forever cherish.
Here’s to you, Mommy!
Hugs,
Vaijxxxxxxx

P.S: So do you regret not having figured out how to knit from back in high school?

TO A FRIEND

Good thought. And scary, too, in a way. You made me think...

Does this mean that we don't have the time to take a moment and look at what's important to us anymore? Is it that the world is spinning so crazily, and we're hanging on for dear life, fighting to make sure we don't fall off the carousel? Sure, the economy and its state of health do impact the world, but what about closer to home?

So you're going to be 62 in 14 years time. (Hmm, am not getting any younger myself! :) Looking back now, have you achieved (most of) what you'd set out to do? (No, attaining Nirvaana needn't be part of the list!)
Have you enjoyed the time you've been blessed with - spending it with people you love and value the most; your parents, spouse and child? Scarily enough, there may be a day when, if you sit back and take stock, there's so much more you could've done.

Made their lives - and yours - so much richer, more fulfilling, with the smallest act: a monsoon evening spent on the verandah, drinking tea and taking in the sight and smell of the rain; an afternoon spent with your child, dabbling in paint and colours; a day catching up with an old friend, maybe via good old snail mail.

Time to wake up, smell the coffee, and take stock of our lives, don't you think? You don't want the big picture taking away moments that could've been precious memories to be cherished in the years to come.

PIN-DROP SILENCE

So much so, that I've been moving in a daze between work and home. Work, and then some more more. Home, clubbed with nerve-wracking traffic en route. Tumble sleepily into bed, and wake up to the same routine.

Need a day that is 'blank', devoid of any activity, thoughts or what-have-yous. A day dedicated to pin-drop silence (something we never did manage to achieve in school, in spite of the teachers' pleas). Bliss!

ABOUT HARRY POTTER. OR JK ROWLING

Enid Blyton
Richmal Crompton
Carolyn Keene
Franklin W. Dixon
...Take a bow!

It's their books I grew up on as a child/ pre-teen, and followed up on my love for reading with a gazillion books from so many talented authors as I grew older. It's been a long and fascinating journey with the books, always one of discovery and happiness at having found a new friend.

So what does this have to do with Harry Potter? Am I rambling on (as usual)? No. Yes. Maybe! The thing is, while a book may have stayed on in the memory, it's not always that an author has, unless associated with a specific book, if you know what I mean. See, like if you say Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell immediately comes to mind. Ditto Stephen King should you holler The Shining. Now here is where Harry Potter comes in. Or rather, JK Rowling does. The books are so magical (yes, I can hear so-JRR Tolkein-meets-Enid Blyton!), so unreal (yet real), so mystical...and yet they make you want to believe in everything that's written on every one of those pages. You can't help wonder whether you know, these things actually happen in real life (as we know it). So here's the thing. I guess Rowling's brought alive the child/ teen in me. After all, who said that fantasy is only for people in the single digit age-group? A little bit of fairy dust and magic works for us all!

SEPTEMBER GARDEN

September's a happy month.
Here's why:
First and foremost, it's Mum's birthday month. That in itself makes it special, because Mum's super special. (A separate post will see me go into raptures about Mum sometime.) But hey, do think about it - doesn't your Mum make your day? If you live together, or close by, a smile, a hug, or even a few quick words (or gossip!) exchanged can do it. If you live a distance away, or your Mum's that extra-shiny star in the sky, even a memory can do the trick. Anything, really, because Mums are always, always there.

Next, my window box flowers bloom. They're finally not rain-soaked anymore, neither are they gasping for breath (and water) like they do in the scorching hot summer. They're in that happy plant-world balance of good food, sunlight, shade and just that occasional rain shower. If you look closely, when it rains in September, it's almost as if the flowers are reaching out daintily to the sky, their delicate faces uplifted to capture that tiny sparkling jewel-like rain drop. Beautiful.

While on the rains, let me tell you that for someone with hair that can at best be (politely) described as frizzy on a good day, the fact that we're slowly inching towards sunshine is goooooooood. No more bad hair life, never mind days. Honestly, HOW can those waif-thin (Another grouse. Hmph.) models look all hot and sultry with rain-soaked hair, pray tell?! I can manage a frumpy and mouse-like, and that takes a lot of effort. Else, we're talking clumpy and we-have-given-up-on-life strands that stringily stick to the scalp. *whimper*

Plus, we're inching closer to November. Dunno why, but just love November. Maybe it's the sound of the word, I dunno. But November it is, as far as the best month of the year goes. You know, it's just one of those random things, like lucky numbers and the sort. But back to September...

Also, come September (Ah the old movies!), it's the advent of the festive season in India. It's from here on that we move into new clothes/ fairy lights/ scrumptious food/ magic mode. Pure bliss.

Yay, it's September!

EIGHT-EIGHT-EIGHTY

This is for my BFF, whose birth date this is. (She now has her baby son to share her birthday, too!)

Schoolmates since grade seven, we never did speak while at school, moving in different circles as we did. A tentative friendship was struck when on the suggestion of our tutor, we walked to and fro from French class, seeing that we lived down the road from each other. Initial hesitation and awkward conversations gave way to an amicable walk to class, exploring topics of discussions other than French verbs. Slowly, we'd spend evenings post class and homework together, with me hollering for her outside her window. She'd pop in the window, either inviting me upstairs to her home, or skip downstairs for a stroll along our tree-lined street. We grew up, sharing our fears, hopes, dreams and aspirations. And so the friendship was forged...

Growing up saw us apply for the same college, and become batch mates all over again. Schoolgirl giggles made way for college girl banter, boy talk and shared secrets: some of which we laugh over today! And so the friendship grew even stronger...

Nostalgia hit hard and it was tough to contain the tears, not just for me, but for her too, as she got married and moved away. From having the best friend so close by that she could dash across to comfort me when I was particularly low, or for us to go shopping together, or share her happiness, this stage was one full of mixed emotions.

Years later, with both of us married and leading lives with our significant others, two things have remained constant: the geographical distance, and our friendship. Would love to have the former change, with us being neighbours again someday. As for the latter, there are some things that are sheer perfection and needless to say, should remain unchanged... Touch wood!

LAZY SATURDAYS

... Are now passe. However, am not really complaining about working weekends, it's a good feeling to sink my teeth into something new and challenging! Moving up the corporate ladder, getting into a new role, planning and growing with a new team - it's a wonderful new world!

DRUNK ON HAPPINESS!

Life's little lesson learnt: You can be drunk on nothing but happiness! It's the best non-alcoholic high... EVER!

MOVING CITIES... ALMOST

So this is really from 2004, when the significant other and I had decided to spend our lives together, come summer 2005. And all was well. Almost. The thing is, while I was happily living in Mumbai city, he was some xyz miles (I can NEVER get distances right; I'm hopelessly geographically challenged.) away in the far away land of New Delhi.

Now the thing is, Mumbai is well, Mumbai. For someone who's lived here all her life, moving cities to India's capital city is not the easiest (or most palatable) of ideas to fathom. Anyway, so moving being in the name of love and all, wasn't much of an option - like extracting a rotten tooth, it had to be done. And there started my numbered days in Mumbai.

First things first, then. Mumbai is synonymous with the sea, the beaches, the gorgeous monsoon. Had my fill of them all - spent solitary evenings by the sea, just taking it all in, almost as if to absorb it for a lifetime. Took long walks on the beach; oh the feel of the soft cool sand between my toes, waves lapping at my ankles! Deep breathfuls of the salty, tangy air. My own little heaven, to be assimilated and imprinted on my mind.

The almost in the subject line that you see? Well, Somebody up there loves me - barely was the engagement ring on my finger and the congratulatory messages pouring in, that one which made my world even more perfect came in: the fiance was transferred (for good) to Mumbai on work!

Mmmmmmm-hmmmmmm....so it's now the both of us, taking those walks by the sea, breathing in the wonderful salty air in tandem...and building castles together.

GOODBYE, GRANDPA

It's been five years now; but still just doesn't feel like it.

Seems like I've just spent a holiday with you and am heading back home, only to see you soon. Every visit, when I'd walk out your door, after that one last hug, I'd look back, wishing time would stop still. I'd wish that it were time for the next vacation already.

That last time we met, that last hug we exchanged. Even though it took all your strength, all you could do was wish us well, thinking about us, that 'God bless' was the last thing I heard you say to me. And that we shouldn't worry about you. Didn't know it would be the very last hug you'd give me, or that it would be the last time I'd see you.

Memories are all I'm left with. The pain just doesn't go away.

GROWIN' UP

Not sure that i'm a fan of the growing up fanchise, really. There's responsibility, people interested in what you do, how you do it, when you do it. There's this virtually permament glare fixed onto you, especially by those in authority.

*grumble*

PUPPY LOVE!

GARDENING GLOVES

I love my little window box garden. There's nothing as soothing as waking up (even if it's not too bright and early!) and looking out the window at the myriad colours vying for your attention. Occasionally, we're hosts to tiny little birds that we don't even recognise; butterflies too. Pottering about on weekends, happily convincing myself I have a green thumb or two, can spend a nice bit o'time digging away... followed, of course, by a nice hot mug of coffee.

Dunno about anything else, really, but there's one thing I've learnt: plants make you happy!

INTRODUCING TED THE TURTLE

Meet Ted. He's been with us a few weeks now, and makes one cute l'il (and I mean little!) pet.
Moves fast - whoever said 'as slow as a turtle'? - and is rather grouchy when you pick him up.
Hello, Ted.

MONDAY BLUES

Want to stay home and enjoy the rain.
Want to get done a million things that I'd planned to do over the weekend, and didn't get down to doing.
Want to take a break from things, sit back, breathe easy and enjoy my space.

Goodbye, weekend. Hello, Monday.

HERE COMES THE RAIN!

Rich earth, the smell permeating your lungs. Flame of the Forest, laburnum and rain flowers jostling to display their fiery colours. A darkened sky, the rain beating down...
... The Gods have conspired to create the perfect magical rainy day!

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

Mum,
A friend for life.

All those times that...
She's kissed away wounds (from scraped knees to broken hearts) Made your favourite food just because
Given advice just when you needed it the most
Helped with your homework
Guided you, helped you take those hesitant first steps
Always been there for you, loving you unconditionally

Love you, Mum!

NOTCH UP ANOTHER YEAR...

We're a year older today!

Happier? Yes!

Content? Yes!

Regrets? No!

Guess we're doing good! Happy anniversary to my significant other!

CHEERS!

We're celebrating three years of togetherness.

Three years, more happy than otherwise.

Three years, some wonderful moments and memories to cherish.

... A good feeling, this!

TOGETHERNESS

May 10, 2008

Happy Anniversary... Here's to many more years of togetherness!

We love you, Mum and Dad!

SO I'VE SINNED!

Groan. Ate more than I should have of that deelish chocolate brownie. Or two. And did I mention the chocolate sauce? The nuts? The smooth cold texture of the vanilla ice-cream as it whispered down my throat?

Really, it did call out to me, said my name over and over. Now, you don't disappoint friends, do you? Ahh... say it's okay!

BABY TALK!

Bring in the best friend. Add her (then) three year old daughter.
The following conversation ensues:
The phone rings.
Friend (F): Hello?
At the other end's her hubby.
Hubby (H): Hi.. how's your day going?
Daughter (D): Mommy, who's that on the phone?
F: Papa.
D: Oh! I want to talk! I want to talk!
F gives D the phone.
D: (Very tentative) Hello...
Pause.
Then, in a VERY loud aside to F, which H can obviously hear:
D: But Mommy, which Daddy's phone is it?

OF GODDESSES & QUEENS

I simply love the concept that Indian goddesses are alive, deep in meditation atop a hill, possibly holed up in a smallish cave that's impossible for a human to access.

Just spent the past weekend trudging up one such mountain top, a 16-odd kilometer walk-crawl that was seemingly endless, but so worth the cold, thin air and breathlessness. Okay, so I now have muscles I didn't even know existed, that are making their presence felt rather vociferously. Unrelenting.

Ah, it's a long way to go towards even a modicum of spirituality.

LAZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZY

The dictionary meaning be as it may, I'm almost embarrassed to think that the adjective now applies to me. Been ages since a blog post, ages since I tried anything creative (I'm talking paints, canvas and a brush here) on a weekend, been ages since I did anything fun for myself.

Time to change, methinks.
Decoupage is the latest rage.
Blogging is now back with a bang!
Artsy stuff is on the anvil.

I'm back to life!

CHILLIN'

Literally. It's around 9.4 degrees, and cold, by Mumbai standards. A good feeling, this, all tucked up, toasty warm in a quilt, sipping on a mug of coffee. :)

Sometimes, life doesn't get better than this!

BIRTHDAY CAKE!

Had some really delish cake, the sibling turned a year older. (Don't know how much the latter part of the statement would be appreciated!)

It's a month for birthdays, February seems to be fairly popular. More updates soon.

ONE WEDDING, A SANGEET CEREMONY & LOADS OF COLD

Taking up where Mr Frosty left off, the North Indian winter just doesn't seem to understand that it's time for it to recede, not intensify at the end of January. Consequently, spent one cold day that led into an even colder evening.

The title's pretty clear - we went to multiple functions, initially dolled up in diamonds and silk, to end the evening wrapped snug in an exquisite Pashmina shawl, in a valiant (and fairly unsuccessful, I might add) attempt to keep the cold at bay.

Made a new friend, wished well to the old - here's to you, Siddharth and Becks!

More on this soon!

HELLO, MR FROSTY

Not too sure about this cold thing. It's been between 1.6 and 2 degrees celcius the past couple of nights. Woke up at the ungodly hour of four in the a.m. to catch a train to Agra. Breathed in the Taj Mahal later in the day, but that's another story. Or blog. Or two. We're cheering tonight, seems the good ol' mercury's deigned to up itself by a couple of degrees.

Never mind the food, bring in the coffee and the moisturiser. And oh, don't forget the strawberry flavoured lip balm.

AWAY FROM HOME

Plan holiday. Book tickets. Go shopping. Get organised. Pack. Realise you've packed everything but the kitchen sink hence no space in luggage. Grumble. Unpack. Grumble. Repack. Fret-fume-done. Go on holiday.

Day 1: Have a good time.

Day 2: Still having a good time.

Day 3: Ho-hum. Not bad.

Day 4: Wanna go home!!!

Homesickness sets in quick! So much for the holiday; somebody put me on a flight back home!

BIRDS AND THE BEES

Wonder why discussions pertaining to the birds and the bees are taboo in some (or is it many?) societies? Wouldn't you rather raise an aware and educated child rather than one who is ignorant, has inaccurate information and consequently may have to go through pain and heartache - God forbid - at a later stage? Granted, you cannot protect a child forever from the world, but as a responsible adult, you can help minimise the pain that he/ she may unfortunately go through. More so, proper and timely education when imparted is very obviously the key to the solution. Why do we behave like the proverbial ostrich, sticking our heads in the sand, oblivious to everything around us? Ignoring a problem is not the solution, doing so only festers the growth and definitely does not make it go away. In a world wherein the HIV spread is rapidly on the rise, teenage pregnancies are rampant, why do we choose to sit in our ivory towers and gloss over the issue?

I'd think it's time we woke up to an educated world. It's the only way to save our children, and safeguard our future.

RING IN THE NEW!

Happy New Year!

RING OUT THE OLD!

So another year draws to an end.

Smile recalling the good times.
Wince over the bad.
Will do better in the New Year, I say.

Resolutions, anyone?

KISS THE COOK!

So I'm now learning a new skill: How to Enter the Kitchen and Whip Up a Meal 101.

It's not such a bad thing, you get this creative satisfaction out of having started off with some random ingredients that finally turn into something that looks (and is!) both attractive and edible. (No, I don't appreciate wisecracks about how it's good that a hospital is in close proximity, thank you very much.)

My personal favourite is anything that doesn't take up the best part of an afternoon, and that still looks like it has been created after a lot of effort! *grin*

On the menu tonight:
Thai Pad Noodles
Waldorf Salad
Chocolate Brownies
(Coffee for afters, do stop by!)

NOVEMBER

Thirty days hath September,

April, June, and November

February has twenty-eight alone,

All the rest have thirty-one.

Except in leap year, that's the time

When February days have twenty-nine.

Mum taught me the rhyme way back when I was in the single-digit age group, and it has stayed... Now's also the time we're inching close to the New Year; how time does fly! (Need to figure out where that one originated!)

REALITY BITES

As with other programming on Indian television these days, I'm soon going to start cribbing about reality television too. There's only so much you can take of singing competitions, dance shows and sundry other what-have-yous. At one point, like with caves (what?!), if you've seen one, you've seen them all.

And then coming to how fair they are. I have some serious doubts there. As is often debated, I really believe a strong cell phone network in the participants' respective hometowns combined with great SMS power can safely see them through. After all, what does actual talent have to do with it? Jazz up a motley group of participants, throw in a free makeover or two, fling on the glad rags, and there you go - you have a star in the making. Never mind that the said individual cannot sing his or her way out of the oft-used paper bag.

Have SMS, will win!

INSPIRATION

Takes many forms, this one. Has many sources, too. That which helps you think better, and maybe even do better is the one to give a thumbs-up to, right?

Look around, you mayn't even have to look far: It can be something, however small, right in your home even. Or a person. A grandparent, a parent, a sibling. For those flaunting wedding rings, maybe a spouse.

Things mostly look good.

TERRIBLEPHONESERVICE.COM

So much for communication. A mobile phone company can be loads of trouble, I've learnt.

Dial the supposed helpline... Listen to a tinny voice, ear-splitting hold music... and dial:

1 for billing details.

2 for special offers.

3 for latest updates.

4 for caller tunes.

What about a number that connects you to a real, live human?

FASTING & FEASTING

So we Indian women fast for the health and happiness of our husbands. It mostly involves fairly elaborate rituals, right from no water (gasp!) to waiting for the moon to rise before the fast can be 'broken', which, simply put, means the woman can join the land of the living (and eating) once again.

It also includes dolling up in all finery, wherein looking like your local jewellery store won't be amiss, and waiting about, relating stories associated with the ongoing rituals (and I suspect, gossiping like there's no tomorrow).

My fundamental question here - the lady starves herself all day, risks severe dehydration, waits about for the moon to rise (whatever!)... and for what??? So that the man, her husband, lives like a gazillion years while she's long dead (would this have quickened it?)...

Where's the equality of the sexes?

MIGRAINE

Got one so bad that I can't think strait, oops, strate, I mean straight....wdededepojtughtgrlrlfrbchrfirefoirodd;lewl,w;jgdewueww,,,...........

REMIX FACTORY

Ingredients:
3 - 4 cult movies
2 - 3 OSTs (or Original Sound Tracks)
1 item number
100 pounds of thick skin

Method:
Take the cult movies. Dissect them frame by frame. Make copious notes and file away relevant information for future use. For best results, use multiple films - that way you get more 'inspiration' - across genres for a better blend.

Throw in your wannabe starlets, add a dash of skin (or maybe more, as per taste) and toss in the item number (the raunchier, the better).

Stir continuously, until no sole ingredient is distinguishable (take special care with the movies).

Add the music with lyrics modified as required.

Serving Suggestion:
Garnish with a sprinkling of originality (example: The way the film credits roll).
Serve hot (it's soon gonna be tepid anyway).

Chef's Note:
Never let go of the thick skin, it's an ingredient vital to all such future endeavours.

COME SEPTEMBER

And we're on the verge of saying goodbye to the monsoons for this season, and gearing up for several Indian festivals to hit the calendar over the next few months (no, I'm not merely referring to New Year's here), over the 16 weeks until we herald in the new...

Intricate henna patterns adorning the hands and feet, loads of wholesome yummies - both sweet and savoury - made at home and offered to guests, rangoli designs by the home entrance, tiny little oil lamps flickering like stars in an inky black sky...

Ahh, bring on the festivities!

TIES AND BONDS

Bring on the sentimental music - it's the festive season. Time to invite people over, visit some others in your turn and generally exchange food, wine and family goss. Recall family you'd forgotten even existed (and vice versa) and catch up on lost time. (Or when you meet, remember in a flash just why it was time intentionally lost, hehehhe!)

Not sure I subscribe to some of these so-called festivals and stuff myself, but hey, to each his own! Go on then, and look forward to renewing those ties and bonds.

FREEDOM

Of speech

Of thought

Of expression

Being able to walk the streets, held held high and sans fear.

Assured of safety, confident of no harm coming one's way. Being able to speak the truth, speak out against the wrong... and the certainity of backing. Being able to believe in oneself and trust without feeling compromised.

Celebrating independence.

RESCUE MISSION

It saddens the heart to know that as I'm typing this piece, there is a girl child somewhere out there, either being brutally mutilated or raped. Female foeticide/ infanticide is just as big a cause for concern, if not bigger.

In a nation like India, having a girl child is more of a curse than a blessing, or so a fair section of society still continues to believe. From the time a baby is conceived, the parents want to know the gender of the as yet unborn baby. No, not from the point of view of decorating the nursery just so, or buying the layette, but in the event that if it's 'unfortunately' a girl, suitable measures can be employed to 'take care of the situation'.

In certain sections of society, a girl child only means another mouth to feed, since she is apparently fit to look after only the home and hearth. While the menfolk go out and earn (read: squander most of their earnings in their dedication to the booze bottle, but that's another story), it's the female who has to take care of the house and family. In such a situation, sometimes created out of hopelessness and frustration, brutal atrocities are committed against the girl child, more often than not by a member of the family itself, a father, brother or husband even. This, sometimes, with the helpless mother watching on.

There are cities and small towns wherein during an ultrasound scan, the presence of a female foetus means that 'a Goddess is about to visit the family', which is a not so subtle cue for the parents-to-be to start thinking about an abortion. Or, 'congratulations, get the hospital staff 'pedas' (a type of sweetmeat), since burfee, another variety of sweet, denotes a male foetus. Depending on the sweet one draws, the fate of the unborn child is sealed right there and then. Multiple instances of aborted foetuses found in garbage bins, abandoned day-old baby girls, umbilical cord intact, are found in heaps of garbage, often not garbed even in rags, or floating along a river - these stories are as commonplace as they are horrifying.

On one hand, there are programmes talking about small families being happy families, while on the other, such gruesome horrors are conveniently shoved under the carpet, or in this case, the garbage heap.

Wonder if anyone's actually listening.

BOOKWORMS UNITE!

Nothing can substitute the feel of a new book, crisp to the touch, the heavenly smell of paper fresh off the press... Pages that take you into another world, drifting off in bliss...

Have always had an ongoing romance with books from the time I can remember, and the love continues even today. However busy a day may be, it's never complete without having read at least a few pages before nodding off to sleep. Have Mum and Dad to think for this, for it's they who have always encouraged the reading habit. My childhood memories have always involved books: the Ladybird series before I could even read, lovingly read out by Mum and Dad, followed by an excellence award in grade I at school that rewarded me with a gift voucher for a princely twenty rupees at a popular childrens' book store that saw me buy my first Enid Blyton, a beautiful hard bound edition of 'The Enchanted Wood'.

Haven't looked back since.

MESSY WEEKEND

Clothes strewn around, both ironed and otherwise. (What's the point of getting them ironed?!)
Dust on the glass topped coffee tables, sticky with rain.
A miniature shoe store mushrooming in virtually every room of the house.
Plants wilting, need to be watered. (These sure won't grow: there's no nourishment, let alone talking to them!)
Dishes slowly and steadily piling up in the sink.

As the weekend creeps to a close, I don't see much hope... *sigh*.

MOVIE MANIA

I love the movies. For someone who didn't get beyond kiddie films until about 15, think I'm doing a pretty good job.

Love the classics: Gone with the Wind, The Shop around the Corner, Come Live with Me, The Rear Window, Roman Holiday, Breakfast at Tiffany's, My Fair Lady, The Sound of Music, Casablanca, An Affair to Remember...

I'm now looking out for a DVD Club to enjoy Saturday nights. Bring in the popcorn!

NOSTALGIA

For My Parents - They're simply the best.

Got hold of some old children's' songs, those that Mum and Dad would sing to me when I was in the single-digit age group, or have me listen to on tape (Yes, there was a world before DVDs and whatever else!).

I can only pray that someday I do as good a job as they did.

CHEERS!

Met one of my oldest friends today. We go a long way back: kindergarten and playing in the sandpit at the neighbourhood park, followed by graduating high school together.

No party night here, but a fun filled, relaxed evening at home, watching television and chatting late into the night (read: 5 in the a.m. the next morning)! Caught up on life, love and sundry other happenings, mundane day-to-day ones even. Rolled our eyes in our heads remembering old school crushes, doing a where-are-they-now reconnoiter, discussing work, common interests... Picked up right where we'd left off, a phone conversation a couple of months ago.

We always plan to meet up, and somehow wind up blaming our schedules for not doing so, but this one evening put a few things into perspective - friends are for life, and you need to take the time out of your otherwise busy schedule to work on and maintain that friendship.

Here's to old friends and to making new ones!

WEDDING BELLS!

Thrilled.
Excited.
Ecstatic.
Full of plans.
Can't stop smilin'.

That's what I am right now. There's (a) wedding bell(e) in the family!

IT'S A SALE!

The word 'Sale' manages to put a spark back in my eyes anytime, however depressed I may be. Contrary to the partner's belief, I am of the firm opinion that shopping is a recreational activity. This is how it contributes:
a. Makes me (very) happy.
b. That means I'm relaxed and de-stressed. Translated that means a happy, healthy body.
c. It's fun. More so when you lug home a satisfying bagful (or more).

As for the economy:
a. Contributing to the nation's income levels.
b. Encouraging growth in a budding sector. (Read somewhere that organized retail in India accounts for a mere 5% of the industry.)
c. Creates employment.

The above puts salve on my conscience. Not that by the above good deeds I need to worry about it anyway.

On the more serious side (whaaaat, wasn't all the above in all seriousness?) - ever wondered why sales work? Is it because to save 50 bucks on say, a pair of oven mitts and potholders, you wind up buying a couple, when maybe you have scant need for even the one? Rough back-of-the-envelope calculation would reveal an estimated spend of 300 bucks to save 100... on something that wasn't really required to begin with. So you save 100, but what about the 200 you needn't've parted with in the first place?

Shopping stress. Contrary to my belief that retail therapy rocks and is totally de-stressing, it's also true that people across the globe spend more than their shopping money on therapy to rid them of shopping stress. I'm still shaking my head in disbelief. Guess this is a classic case of two sides of the same coin and all that jazz, but I'll still go with shopping as one of my favourite recreational activities. Sometimes think the others on my list come in a fairly distant second.

Hmm, maybe it's time to touch base with the best friend and hit the mall. It's the weekend anyways. Where's that credit card now?

MEN!

Had men been intelligent, they'd've been women. I'm all for men bashing right now, such is my frame of mind.
Always wonder why men have to have things their way, why they're such mamma's boys, why they can't think for themselves, and why they can't understand that TLC is a good thing - and to love and respect somebody means to given them your support when it's required.
Why can't they see right from wrong, differentiate between facts and exaggerated tales that do nothing but make someone (read: the significant other's) life miserable?
Why any attempt to talk things out after a tiff is always met by a cold response, ears shut out to any reason, logic, sense or good old listening while the other person speaks?
Why when it comes to the crunch, the woman has to spend half her waking hours (the other half are spent at work) in the kitchen, making endless rounds of tea/ coffee and whipping up a meal and supervising the house help and cleaning up after the man and organizing the home and smiling prettily at the world when her back's killing her and she can't wait to put her feet up...
...Maybe someday I might see the pros. Some distant day...

IT'S ALWAYS YOU!

SHE: "I'm talking to you."
HE (randomly flipping TV channels): "No, that's more like arguing."
SHE (patiently): "Trying to get my point across here."
HE (displaying a total lack of interest): "Yeah, it's always about you, and your viewpoint."
SHE: "Will you ever listen to me! Just this once?"
HE (looking up): "See? Now you dominate too!"
SHE (exasperated, frustrated): "Can I say something???"
HE (dripping sarcasm): "Don't you always?"

Whatever you say or do, it can never be right.

SOUTH INDIA ON A PLATTER...

... Or maybe a banana leaf.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY

So I met the significant other four years ago today. In another lifetime (read: up until a couple of years ago), I'd've even remembered the date. Today, I had to be reminded. (Of course, I did pretend that I had so remembered, how can you think I'd even forget? Hee hee.) How times change. Or waitaminute, is it people that do?

Flashback to college, when some batch mates would celebrate the anniversary of the first time they smiled (coyly) at their partners, the anniversary of their first date, the anniversary of when they first held hands, the anniversary of when they first kissed… and let's not get any more graphic here at the peril of sounding risqué!

Well, so ultimately is it about an occasion, a reason to remember an event (then so significant and now pale in comparison to others more so), or to simply celebrate being together? I'd like to believe the latter, and justify not having swiped my card at the nearest Hallmark store!

TIME TRAVEL

Speaking of a time machine back there, there's another era I'd like to stroll through and see for myself - the time when you had Rhett Butler romance Scarlett O'Hara and raise the estrogen levels of all women around and make them wonder, what's she got that I haven't? (Maybe the 17-inch waist had something to do with it. Knew I shouldn't've polished off that last slice of pizza!)

And for me, the forever-in-the-making-paleontologist, gimme dino(saur) time anytime!

DINO - C'MERE, BOY!

Dinosaurs have fascinated me for as long as I can remember. There was a time back in middle school when I contemplated becoming a paleontologist some day in the future (never mind that I could barely pronounce the word, let alone spell it). Okay, so that didn't happen, but the fascination (and maybe a teeny bit of awe) has still not gone away. This began with my reading 'The Lost World', by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - yes, the same brain behind the Sherlock Holmes series - and subsequently devouring any- and everything I could read up on the 'saurs.

Encyclopedias were my best friends. So the interest has now resurfaced, upon reading about the finding of a mammoth skeleton. No, not the wooly mammoth (ancestor to our elephants today), but the gigantic skeleton of a man, supposedly human and dating back to some number of years that you and I can't even fathom. Of course, we drag mythology / folklore (I always maintain that there is a fine line between these) into the picture here as well; guess it only adds that extra bit of zing to the tale.

Anyway, the point here is that we now have the remains of what was once a humongous man who walked the Earth, as it were. We're now gonna dissect every bit of him, analyze his DNA, examine his bones, his teeth and figure out who he was (I wonder if people had names back then?), what he did for a living (so hunting is an inborn survival instinct), how he lived (without FM radio, wonder how thrilling it really was), and finally, just how and why he died. I would personally be interested to know whether he had a pet dinosaur a la the Flintstones, or whether he preferred to while away his time making patterns in the sand.

Oh, this is when I'd like a time machine.

MORNINGZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzz...

Lazy. Bummed out. Couldn't care less. Boooorring. Yawn. Try the next millennium, maybe. Don't call us, we'll call you. These, and variations of these (some more wildly imaginative than the others, for example: I have a meeting in the afternoon at work today that I need to stay awake for) are just some of the excuses I come up with for not waking up early mornings. And by early, we accommodate even 7 a.m. As a thumb rule, anytime before that is the middle of the night.

There are times I'll go to bed with this firm resolution of waking up early the next morning, and play around with versions of my soap opera-perfect morning starring my illustrious (and industrious) self in my head. I'd've woken up early, done some stretching exercises and having laced on my favourite pair of trainers, smiled at the wonderful morning it is, and taken off for a jog. On getting home healthier, I'd carry that further by pouring myself a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and munching my way through an equally healthy bowl of muesli, hold the sugar, please. Of course, after all this I'm Super Girl, and the household chores are a mere flick of the wrist (how I wish, a wand!), followed by an upbeat work day (naturally).

Back to reality and here I am, running late, rushing to get done with early morning tasks (I've hit snooze for the nth time on my alarm) and making it to work on time.

Darn, forgot to put the cap back onto the toothpaste tube again.

GUILT TRIPPIN'

Got the PC finally. Yippie.
Spending less together time... Ulp.

Will there ever be the perfect balance?

HOGGER'S PARK

Don't get PC time these days. *grumble grumble*

Wonder how long it'll be before we all see double: two TV sets, two cars, two laptops (or the like)... and I mean ALL, sans an exception.
Viva les DINKs!

WHAT GOES HERE?

SMELLS LIKE RAIN!

It'd rained here early a few mornings ago, around 2 am, and there was a lovely chill in the air... Woke up, settled in at the window watching the rain awhile, and took in some deep breaths of lovely damp earth... Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm... :)

Reminds me of my college days. We, my friends and I, spent five years on this campus that resembled a hill station during the monsoon: lush green grass, vibrant trees, and puddles of rainwater along damp pathways? Many afternoons were spent in the cafeteria, snacking on hot fritters and gazing away dreamily into the distance. (Okay, having the latest crush around helped tremendously sometimes.) Clouds heavy with rain would drift lazily across the sky, making for a picturesque mural, a feast for the eyes.

Messy floors. Puddles of slush showing up in dirty brown streaks across the (until now) pristine marble floor. Clothes reeking of damp. Smells like something that even the cat would refuse to drag in. Plants that suddenly sprout more snails and earthworms than flowers. And so we herald the monsoon...

18 TILL I DIE!

Middle age is when your broad mind and narrow waist begin to change places.
– E. Joseph Crossman.

Got this on SMS today. What a not-fun place to be!

BAD *EVERYTHING* DAY

This is one of those days when nothing, and I mean nothing, can go right. Started with scalding my finger with hot water under the vending machine (don’t even ask!), to feeling frumpy ‘cos of a bad hair day (can you see my eyes roll inside my head?) and pulling a muscle in my back, which now reminds me to behave (no, there’s no need for an imagination overdrive here, lol).

*Grumble*

ROMANCING THE ROSES

Go on, take a deep breath and feel the clean air pervade your smog-filled lungs. I somehow seem to remember an MTV advert from back in (was it?) 1994 that stated 'One day breathing in Bombay is like smoking ten cigarettes'. I'm sure that the number of ciggies in question has now risen exponentially, but that's digressing.

What we're discussing here is a tiny nondescript little hill station called Badhok. Before that quizzical expression on your face results in a permanent frown, let's put some geographical facts into perspective. Badhok is a place up in the Shivalik Ranges in the North of India. That's
somewhere in the foothills of the Himalayas.

So there we were, driving along a red-bottomed monkey-inhabited road winding up the mountainside, when we pulled into this quaint resort called The Pinewood. (Yes, unlike apartment buildings in Mumbai called Beach View when you can't even see a stall vending bottled water in sight, this one does have pine trees surrounding it.) Now the view from this resort was heavenly rows of bright red poppies swaying in the breeze, huge rose blooms in eye-catching reds and oranges, dainty little purple and yellow flowers nodding their heads in time to a tune of their own. Bliss.

Badhok itself has nothing much to write home about, except for some scrumptious local Himachali cuisine, and gorgeous weather even in the summer. A good place to run away from it all for a weekend. As we did.

RAINDROPS KEEP FALLIN'...

Was in New Delhi this morning. Was driving along the clean, wide green streets, enjoying the breeze... when all of a sudden these tiny crystal droplets of water smeared the windshield of the car. In a matter of a few minutes - or was it less? - the droplets turned into a steady downpour.

Cruising past India Gate, took in deep breaths of air, cleansed the lungs with the scent of rich rain-drenched earth and smiled. Together with the world. A leisurely amble through Dilli Haat, side-stepping the puddles of water and brushing some random stray drops off the chin and forehead... The sights and smells stay longer than I'd imagined.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

How I hate returning from one! Then on the other hand, I'm homesick after about five... say six days, and can't wait to be home! I keep wondering how things back at home are, how our fish are (okay, so this time we walked in to find one dead goldfish, may it rest in peace) and what we've missed out on...

Guess that's why it's called 'Home Sweet Home' and nothing can take its place. Though maybe a couple of nights in an old restored fort (now a heritage hotel) would be fun. And romantic. More on that later... Suffice it to say that I'm thoroughly enchanted!

NOTHING FISHY 'BOUT IT!

Came in from work last evening, carefully turning the key in the lock as I juggled several bags of shopping. Tossing the lot onto the bureau, I was groping along the wall for the light switch, when I flicked a casual glance towards the fish tank.

A serene warm glow emanated from the light that was switched on inside, bathing the fish in an ethereal halo. There they were, gliding along gracefully, a casual swish and flick of a fin at intermittent intervals. No jostling for space, for a slice of the pie or running a seemingly never ending rat race.

Serendipity.

BEING ALIVE

Some days were just so perfect. They'd lie together contentedly under the shade of the ancient apple tree growing in the garden, lazily sunning themselves like crabs on the beach. Chewing on a blade of grass, he'd suddenly turn to her, demanding to know whether she loved him. Yes, she'd assure him, a smile in her voice. How much?, he'd persist. This much, she'd respond, stretching her arms wide. They'd collapse together onto the grass, giggling like schoolchildren.

On others, they'd sit together enveloped in a comfortable silence born of years of bonding. She'd take up her crotchet, while he'd read the dailies, skimming the finely typed pages. Sometimes he'd read aloud an interesting snippet or two.

Reminiscing - it could be therapeutic. Or traumatic even, depending which side of the scales you were tipping.

The mug slipped from her now cold hands, hot coffee splashing onto the ivory walls, leaving a mud coloured trail behind. She didn't feel the searing heat when a few drops scalded the delicate skin at her wrist. Why did he have to die? Of all the people milling around campus that bleak winter morning, why was it him, caught in the shootout at the school? He, who'd normally never venture out on one of the season's coldest days unless it was absolutely vital. What made him take that step, one move in the wrong direction?

She'd never know. Just as she'd never feel warm again.

SO WHEN'S THE GOOD NEWS?

Warily, I look around.

I've kinda started to avoid family gatherings these days. Or those parties / events wherein close friends of the family tend to gather around like buffalo at the watering hole.

I turn to find a bejewelled, silk-draped auntie nudging my elbow and grinning, glass of Pepsi in hand. So, good news kab hai, haan? (So, when's the good news then?) There I am, mentally rolling my eyes inside my head, and thinking, good news for whom? Me, or the auntie in the violent violet coloured sari? I mean, having a baby is fine, but that's just it - that's merely the beginning! I'm so tempted to ask auntie - so I'll have the baby, yeah, but who's gonna babysit? You? Who's gonna change the diapers at the ungodly hour of 2 a.m.? You? Who's gonna wipe Baby's snotty little nose and run around with the washcloth? Are you? Naah, I'm sure that's all part of my lot. Oh, happiness!

I'd suggest let the good news be. Until the time's right.

WINTER

Winter.
The cold, drab season
Of the heart
the mind and
the body.

Colours.
Nowhere to be seen
except for
Black
White and
Gray.

The Wind.
Chills to the bone and
the warmth seeps out
little
by little
by little

You can never get warm again.

WHAT A BUMMER!

Life can be such a bummer sometimes. While one moment you're upbeat and happy, the next you could very well be so down in the dumps and feel horribly low - any lower and you'd beat a daschund's tummy that invariably hangs down to the ground. The easiest thing to do is to blame it on the weather, another individual (ooh, how convenient, and so much more fun!) or on some raging hormones that make you feel like you're being zapped inside the blender jar.

So, what gets you down?