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.