THE FESTIVAL OF LIGHTS IS HERE!

Happy Divali, all!

IT WAS LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

Romanesco broccoli, or Roman cauliflower, is a variant form of cauliflower.

To me, it's Just. Plain. Pretty.

And so of course, it went straight into my trolley at the food store. And then in to my salad bowl, but not before this (badly taken on the mobile phone) picture got taken.

Salad recipe -

Ingredients:

Pretty broccoli, cut into florets and boiled

Shallots, finely diced

Cherry tomatoes, diced into halves

Sprouts 

Salt, white pepper and a sprinkling of herbs to taste

What to do:

Toss in all the above ingredients into a big wooden salad bowl (or any other).

You could also add any other salad-y ingredients you like.

Add the seasoning.

Dish up! Eat! Enjoy!

SUPER DUPER GROSS

Bugs of any kind are NOT my friends. Taking a chance at friendship, however, was this furry fiend who was merrily plonked inside a head of cauliflower. Suffice it to say we didn't get along, and the not-so-little monster was evicted from Cauliflower Heaven. And no, I don't particularly care what happened to it next, really. Ick. Ick.

AGE + RELIGION + MARITAL STATUS = STUPID JOKES

Annoyance, storm of locusts style.

C'mon, give people a break. The movie mags are full of supposedly howlarious jokes, all because a leading lady of Bollywood married the guy she was seeing, also a huge star, a day or two ago. Stupid, crass, insensitive jokes that touch upon their age (difference), religions they follow (obviously different) and the fact that he had been married before, and has two children from the marriage. 

How does any of it matter, is what I would like to know? Two grown up individuals, capable of making a decision as well as the next person, two people who are committed to each other and have decided to take their commitment to the next level - and what they get is flak. Does it make a difference whether they're years apart in age? As with any couple, isn't it obvious that one would be older than the other? And as for being previously married, again, really, does the chap need to be hung, drawn and quartered for that? And if the both of them happen to follow different faiths, where's the problem. Isn't the world full of people in mixed marriages? And should one of them choose to convert to the other's religion, isn't it a personal decision? It's not like they're making everyone on the planet do the same, are they?

Incidentally, the children from the previous marriage attended the wedding ceremony. Clearly, a couple of pre-teens have more maturity than a whole bunch of twits adults put together.

Grow up, goss rags!

SNOW CONE...

... in a cup.

Those lurid colours you see? Myriad flavours, ranging from cola to berry to vetiver to blue curaçao, topped with a dash of rock salt for that added flavour.

*Picture courtesy: The trigger happy husband

TO BE TAKEN WITH A PINCH OF... SUGAR

ONE LONE CROW

... At my window, a rainy day this monsoon.

FROM THE ARTS FESTIVAL

Wouldn't be me had these pictures been shared in time. 

Of course the Kala Ghoda Arts Festival (see more here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kala_Ghoda_Arts_Festival) took place sometime at the beginning of this calendar year in Mumbai, and the pictures were gasping for breath deep down inside the Land of Memory Card. Finally fished them out, and here are (a few) of them.

Enjoy!

 A classical dance recital

 An installation made of old discarded clothes (being almost a year ago now, my wonderful memory doesn't help to recall as to why the concept)

 A riot of colours, those scarves. Again, failing memory is the excuse for not being able to recollect the hows and whys.

And saving the best for last, my personal favourite - the serene Buddha.

EXTINCT FOR A REASON, RIGHT?

So a well-preserved woolly mammoth was discovered in Siberia some days ago. And that brought about the usual articles about mapping the fossilised DNA to recreate a brand new mammoth at some point in the (near) future. 

All very fascinating, and no two ways about it - a giant leap in scientific progress. With something like this, there seem to be endless possibilities ahead. 

So then what comes to mind is Jurassic Park. Digressing, must admit that none of the sequels were as cool as the first movie (but then, which sequels are, for the most part?) though. Dinosaurs fascinate me no end, and the very idea of real live dinos.... oooooooh. For the same reason, The Lost World is one of my all-time favourite books. (Read more about it here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lost_World_(Conan_Doyle_novel).)

But back to the patiently waiting mammoth. Isn't there a reason it turned extinct in the first place? Ditto dodos, dinos, and all other species (flora, fauna and animal alike), for that matter. I'm thinking out loud, but I do wonder what recreating extinct creatures will do to the Earth as we know it today? For one, the ecological dimensions are starkly different, let alone the geography. Each of these species survived an age, and died out a death (natural or otherwise) subsequently. Bringing in that mammoth - would it survive in today's world? Would it cause more damage to our surroundings, or succumb to them? Would there be serious pandemonium, à la Jurassic Park? Would there be a battle for survival, between man and beast? (No, no, we're not debating who's the man and who's the beast here. That's for another post.) Possibilities, again, and some of them not very pleasant.

If there's a show of hands, I personally want a bright shiny new dinosaur.

BAN IT NOW! REALLY?

So for a while now there's been talk about how tobacco based products are going to be banned. Or maybe the ban's been implemented, even. Why? In a bid to ensure that the consumption declines, and thereby leads to (hopefully) a lower rate of cancer victims. While I don't deny that the statistics of those affected by the dreaded disease are painfully high, and that tobacco consumption contributes to incidences of a certain type of cancer, I do wonder about the ban.

What happens with a ban is this: there's a brouhaha, it gets written about and talked about, the dailies are splashed with pictures of stores being raided, and then comes that bit about people purchasing on the sly, never mind the ban, thank you very much. Sloooowly, much   later (and on the quiet), the ban gets lifted/ terms and conditions of the ban change, much like a starlet changing clothes for a magazine shoot, and life goes back to normal. That is, those who weren't put off by the grotesque imagery on packets of said products, go grab them in their eager little paws once more.

I don't know if there's a solution here, honestly - you may even question whether awareness campaigns even cut it any more. And hence a ban is justified, according to some. At least that way, access is that much tougher, and consumption goes down. On the flip side, a (not so?) small little black market flourishes, and the ban is effectively moot. Becomes a farce, like so many other things.

So if not a ban - what? What will make people pause, think twice before reaching out for that ciggie? for that tobacco product that seemingly gives a high? I'm not a fan of smoking, both passive or active, and strongly believe that never mind burning a hole in your lungs or throat or mouth, look no further than your pocket to begin with. There itself the hole burns deep. In fact, passive smoking gets my goat, and how: why should someone else be at the receiving end of what you're subjecting your lungs to, and that too not out of choice? 

I'd rather pay my shopping bill instead of a hospital's.

WHAT'S THAT? DO YOU HAVE VERTIGO TOO?

The sales were on a few weeks ago. If the sales are on, I - obviously - can't be home. You know, purely out of consideration to towards boosting the economy and all that. Oh, of course it has nothing to do with just plain wanting to shop. Nothing. At. All.

So there I am, drooling serenely contemplating the gorgeous display windows, while chairing a debate between my right brain and my left about life in general... credit cards, wallets, bank accounts. You know, just random casual discussions. So while I won't get into which part uh, won, what did happen was that I glided over to the shoe stores. In my flats. Granted, they are lovely flats, all silver and nude and fun, but flats nonetheless. And the shoe stores are screaming 'heels'. Only heels. Colour blocked heels (saw a yummy lemon curd tart yellow!), vamp red stilettos, strappy black sandals to put the Eiffel Tower to shame. And guess what I can think of?

Yup, vertigo. They were the kinda heels that give me vertigo just looking at them. The thought of slipping them on, attempting to stand - let's not even get into walk - is another blog post altogether.

Do you have vertigo, too?

BOARD GAMES. REMEMBER THEM?

Not saying that technology is bad (though it sometimes often repels me), but when it comes to a few things, I can't help but thinking that simpler times (read the mid-80s/ early 90s) were way cooler.

Play dates, for example. For mums it still remains the same - the non-hosting mum gladly packing off her child to the poor (harried) mum at the receiving end, and secretly digging into her chocolate stash in ecstasy. The kids (that included my friends and I) went berserk for the time, with a gazillion outdoor games (a large chunk of which were on-the-spot inventions) and others played (or enacted, as the case may be) indoors. These included board games and jigsaws. Cardboard (and later plastic coated) boards, brightly coloured counters, dice, play money.... oooh.

The jury is out on whether tablets and other forms of e-play (for want of a better word) actually do enhance the child's skills, but I'm of the opinion that there is no charm to it at all. Take a tablet game that allows the player to design a cake and 'bake' it, followed by generously garnishing it with a multitude of toppings. All electronic. My idea of fun? The same game, but with cardboard cutouts (either made by Mum, or dicier versions that we helped her make, so very proudly) of everything, then popped into a play oven. Garnished, too. Maybe not with coulis or berries, but at least good old chocolate frosting and a cherry on top.

Here's some board games/ jigsaw puzzles from way back when:

FUN PACKAGING = HAPPY ME

Milk is not my friend (unless disguised as ice cream, is an ingredient in chocolate... you get the drift). But when it pops up at your door in the morning in the cutest packaging, you can't help go awwww. Maybe Definitely go back to disliking it after a few seconds, but have an awwww moment in the interim, nonetheless.

See what I mean?

ORGANIC, YOU SAY?

As I trawled the aisles of the food store, tossing in super healthy (ha!) goodies (read instant noodles, microwave popcorn, chocolate and such; you get the drift), I stopped short in front of a shiny new display that screamed the words 'organic' in large white letters. Anything new and shiny and fun (and oh, the packaging was fun!) strikes my eye (of course!) and the trolley develops a mind of its own and automatically grinds to a halt. It's not me, please note, it's the trolley to blame, as stuff I may not have planned to purchase gets rung up at the till. But I digress. But yeah, happens to you as well, right? Right? *hopeful look*

So the organic stuff. When the excitement of 'new!' wore off for a few seconds, I looked closely at the displays. Gorgeous packaging for everything, with uber cool designs and in a couple of cases, kitschy names too. Impressive. And yes - the product range included the gamut of lentils, spices and fresh veggies too. But while 'regular' red onions cost Rs 16/- (about 25 cents) a kilo, the smooth, plump organic ones were four times the cost. As for the spices, loved the packaging - corrugated cardboard (gasp!) and papier mache boxes (ooooh!) - but again, not so much the pricing. With a loud, thumping heart, making sure to check that no one was looking, I surreptitiously compared prices on both. And wound up with the organic cumin and pepper in my shopping cart. Also the onions.

Getting home, almost reverently dicing the onions for soup, decided that they smelt and tasted the same as any others, and thought that maybe the soup would taste different, if nothing else, to accommodate for the organic goodness. And oh, ditto the pepper.

As the soup was getting done, quickly whipped out the Berry to google up info on organic products. As expected, sifting through pages of wisdom, found that organic foods are healthier (duh!), have lesser chemicals and pesticides infused through them, are not genetically modified, contain more minerals, vitamins and other goodness as compared to conventionally grown produce. Or so they said.

Recently, my wallet was relieved to come across more research that said otherwise. Turns out that overall, there was not much of a differnce between the nutritional content, although the organic food was 30% less likely to contain pesticides. There is also no concrete evidence yet that there is a discernible difference in the amount of bacteria from eating organically produced foods compared to conventionally produced foods.

And oh, my onion soup didn't taste different, either. I think I'll use up that saved dough to buy myself a new ebook reader.

HURRAH FOR WHITE BREAD!

Hurrah!

And the good news is, some recent research on white bread that was lurking around as news in the papers. Turns out that all brown bread isn't good, because a fair amount of it has sugar and colouring. And also - happily - turns out that ignoring white bread may not be the best thing either; it comes with its own set of benefits (read nutrients). Yeahhh!

Here's my list of bread benefits (oooh, a list after long):

• Tastes gooooood
• Smells even better, freshly baked
• Is compatible with all kinds of sandwich makings
• Makes you sooo happy in the head (Seriously, have you tried baking a loaf? Or bought one fresh off the baking tray? Oh the sheer goodness!)

This only makes me wonder about food fads once again. If something's trendy, or is the flavour of the month, we tend to dump everything else aside, and scour the food aisles for just that product. And all else gets deemed 'bad'. But one day, the Product Fairy stops by, and things change faster than an F1 car revving at the start of a race.

Short lived or otherwise, I'm thrilled white bread is here to stay. Or at least, for now.

IN THE NEWS

Trending on the news - and not for the best of reasons - is a cartoonist these days. The guy was popped into a jail cell on charges of sedition, for what were viewed as offensive in the extreme cartoons. Of course, it's redundant to say that there are various views here: a faction of people mortally wounded by the said cartoons, while others have merely laughed them off, and thereby gone back to their lives. Another set of people have shrugged their shoulders and fence sat, and gone back into hibernation. That said, there is also a fourth lot, the ignorant, who asked, what cartoon? which cartoonist, did you say?

The cartoons in the limelight go all out to diss the state of affairs in the country currently. From desecrating the national symbol, to depicting canines ditching their favoured fire hydrants to relieve themselves on more sensitive surroundings... the said cartoons have it all. So Faction One objects, naturally. What Faction Two says is, aren't they just calling a spade a spade? Not everyone voices - or in this case, sketches - what they actually feel, and an even smaller number ask for free hospitality courtesy their government by putting them up on their blog. This guy did that. And got a lot of freebies in the bargain, including his 15 seconds of fame on all media possible. People who didn't read newspapers (Faction Four) picked them up, and got more information than they even wanted, given the very exciting stuff that the papers are otherwise crammed with. Others who didn't know cartoons beyond what they saw on the telly in their childhoods, suddenly woke up to them. Faction Three, Those With No Voice, just melted into the furniture when asked for an opinion, God forbid they meet the same fate as the cartoonist. News media benefited too; they had something apart from murders and robberies to report. Ah.

Now that's the story for you. It of course brings up the eternal question - how much is too much? In an attempt to raise a question/ point out facts(?)/ create awareness/ whatchamacallit, is it okay to draw no lines whatsoever, and happily believe that anything goes? The eternal debate of creative expression versus going too far rears its head.

Can the twain meet? Here's what I think: yes, one can express what s/he feels. However, offensive needs to be married with acceptable somewhere. It may not always be a win-win situation for both, but there is something to be said about a few things being sacred. Religion, flags of various countries - isn't there a reason they're topics (normally) approached sensitively? I'd say go right ahead and do what you want - but not such that if it were to happen to you, you'd react as strongly, as adversely, as the reaction you've just gotten. That old adage - do unto others as you would have them do unto you - tweaked a bit, maybe.

SANGRIA...

... is the new Long Island Iced Tea. Or at least, in my books.

That pic above? From dinner last night - good friends, good food, good conversation... and some wonderful fun, laughter and memories.

TEACHER'S DAY

In India, we celebrate September 5 as Teacher's Day, to honour the birth anniversary of former president Dr S Radhakrishnan, a prominent thinker, philosopher and educator.

It's a fun day at schools, with the older students dressed up as teachers, and then going to teach kids from the lower grades. Of course, it isn't a serious exercise, and results in frivolity all around. And the mad dash to 'entertain' teachers - skits, dance performances; basically anything goes. The more colourful, the merrier. Teachers are seen leaving at the end of day, staggering under the weight of (mostly) hand-made greeting cards and flowers, and the odd gift or two. Nobody deserves the honour more, in my opinion.

Looking back, you never do appreciate your teachers much while still a student. I remember desperately attempting to blend in to the walls on Open Days, when the parents (invariably Mum) would need to stop by school to meet with my teachers and get a heads-up on the progress I was making. Or not. Most teachers were held in awe, while a few others were more relaxed and approachable. However, whatever be their style of functioning, looking back, there's so much I learnt from each one of them. Some of them were super special, and I know I'm the person I am today thanks to their contribution.

Did you ever have that special teacher(s) who encouraged you always? Who was a parent away from home? A teacher who, no matter how grim things seemed, was impartial and firm? Loving, even? One who taught you right from wrong, but in such a way that you didn't even know you were being taught - and still changed for the better? Thankfully, over my academic career, I was blessed with them.

That's academia for you. But it's not just people who imparted formal education that need to be appreciated and told how much they've made a difference in your life. Do spare a thought for your very first teachers - parents. Siblings, even. Friends. And the list goes on.

As I type, I still am learning, and hopefully, will continue to do so. And pass it on.

... AND THE INFRASTRUCTURE CRUMBLES AGAIN

Yesterday was a day of torrential rainfall in the city. It started to rain around mid-afternoon, and by evening, even those proverbial cats and dogs were overshadowed.

People started to leave work earlier than they otherwise would, trains were running late, roads were flooded - yes, flooded, with much more than knee-high water in places - and let's not even start on the traffic. My usual 45-minute commute took me closer to three hours, and apparently I was one of the luckier ones, both in terms of comfort and travel time. Why? Because while local trains were bravely ploughing along, they were devoid of electricity - ergo no fans - and were packed beyond imagination. Those who travel by train here would know what I mean, and for the others - let me see - it's about four people to a square foot of space. With maybe one more squeezed in for good measure. So there's heat, humidity levels at a crazy high, and no light (save for what would filter in from the windows and the doorways) to speak of. And then, these same trains made unscheduled halts for as much as an hour between stations, owing to flooded railway tracks.

On the roads, while I was safely ensconced in the air conditioned confines of my cab, negotiating the traffic was a nightmare. (I'd thought ahead and booked myself a cab in the morning itself; having made up my mind that it wouldn't be fun to drive myself home in the evening. Thank goodness for instincts.) Plugged in to my music, I'm glad I wasn't the cabbie. So there you go, not that the roads were brilliant, either. To add to the vehicles, people were spilling over on to the roads (not that we use our pavements to walk  on, even on a good day) and adding to the treacherous driving conditions. Of course, there was no saying where the potholes might be, so negotiating your way (both humans and cars) was tricky. Unless you were an SUV, in which case you barrelled on regardless.

This morning, while the rain continues - though feebly, in comparison to yesterday - the chaos does too, although to a smaller extent. Trains still continue to ply late, traffic snarls exist, and people troop in to work close to noon. Happy employees like the significant other are told to work out of home, so as I leave earlier this morning, he is happily sunk into the couch with his morning cuppa and the papers. Hmph. Envy.

The point of this rambling is just one: year after year, the city goes through the same situation, at least once every monsoon. Nothing changes, really, but that the number of people braving the mess have grown ten-fold, while the infrastructure has shrunk ten times. Development projects, while more appealing than food at a Michelin star restaurant on paper, are just that - on paper. They don't materialise, and when they eventually do - it's years too little and too late. What ails the city? Lack of one cohesive administrative body, one that takes accountability for its actions. With the buck being passed from one to the other (given the number that claim to be working for the city), there isn't any one that stands up, acknowledges that they're responsible, and functions as such.

We keep drawing parallels between the capital city and financial capital. Mercifully for them, there is just the one body that is accountable for the city's infrastructure. That is why you see projects being flagged off, and completed within a reasonable time frame. There is someone who stops to question what's happening - or isn't. The reasons for this - votes, public support at elections - may be questioned by a faction, yes. But if that's the case - I say, so what? Wouldn't you want to vote for such a party/ person? At least the work's getting done, which is why you elect someone in the first place. So no, there is no favouritism per se. It's initiative. And drive.

Things can change here too. All it needs is a spark.

For now -  and for a few more monsoons, seemingly - maybe we'd best invest in a boat.

BEING POLITE? NOSY? JUST PLAIN ANNOYING?

You know those things called Mondays? Who likes them, anyway? Working a six-day week, the lone Sunday zips past, and before the coffee has even kicked in, bam! here's Monday already. Meh.

As if it's not bad enough it's Monday, you bump into people on the elevator in your apartment building/ at work. Worse if they're the moronic cheerful sort, who love Mondays, are perkier than Betty Boop and hate weekends because "there's nothing to do". I hate when they go, "So, how was your weekend?" C’mon, really, like you even care. So I debate about whether to launch into a tirade about the laundry, my washing machine that's on the blink, about woes with my house help, or how I ran out of vegetables and had to survive on Maggi (which isn't a bad thing) for Sunday lunch and dinner. But no, I don't - only because I'm mortally afraid that I'll get a reciprocated update. So the thing here is, what's the appropriate response to "what's up?", "how was your weekend?", "how are you" and the like? You get my drift.

Cut to lunchtime Monday. Scene on the elevator, rinse, repeat. Twice. Briefly contemplate tossing in something that’ll range from mildly to severely risqué and/ or scandalous, but throw it up in favour of the less brutal. Also the fact that I'll need company at lunch through the rest of the week influences my decision. So I throw in a movie instead. And a fabricated visit to the nearest mall, singing about the sales. Sneaky. When I turn to the colleague and politely enquire about her weekend, I'm given an  insight into the angst of bringing up a nine-year-old, grappling with the mother-in-law and an ill pet (dog). In graphic detail. At lunch. Really, the dog isn't the only one with buggered innards now.

Come Monday week, I'll invent something that I can describe in lurid detail as revenge. Until then, I'm still glassy-eyed from the information overload on the anatomy of a canine.