Its that time of my married life again - finding the perfect moniker for the second little one all poised to make a grand entry in less than three months. And then there is the husband. I need to count till 10 - or 100 now to bring down the ole BP.
Is it just this one man I wonder? A typical conversation with the significant other regarding baby names always ends with me resisting the urge to throw (pin)cushions at him. I mean he is yet to contribute a single name to the list of 50 odd masterpieces I've come up with. And no mister, "Ghatotkach" and "Lokamanya" and "Tilak" (yes, in the order!) somehow don't count, I'm thinking.
Yet he opines. And nods sagely. Or raises his well arched brows to express his disdain! Our dinner table discussions on this most important subject involve me presenting the fruits of my labours in organized lists (in alphabetical order) while the chomper across me articulates thusly:
"Nah, sounds like a bad word in Malayalam" or "Gah!" or "Interesting" (accompanied by snigger) or "I knew a girl with that name once. Didn't like her much. Forget it".
My gentle and constructive suggestion that maybe he should contribute something meaningful first before throwing his weight around yielded such gems as the ones referenced above.
In the interest of my better health, and for the lifelong welfare of the one as yet UNBORN, I've officially decided to relegate this "do-together with husband & love of my life" activity to the LC (Lost Cause) category.
Thank God for me - otherwise known as "Mom" and generally referenced as "MKB" (Mummy Knows Best).
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Three Things
Not to sound like this is about the Magi or anything, but HHG tagged me in an unexpectedly sweet way. This here is just a really nice way of wishing good things for people ... this time for those in the bloggers' community. I have been asked to select three people and direct some positive vibes their way. Simple. And this picture
is to represent that the tag is indeed travelling virtually across the world. So without further ado,
1. Tys, like that very first poem, nothing has changed ... I wish for you some Blue Glass Pebbles for the Old Soul in you.
2. Shilpa has my "blessing" for letting us into her kitchen each and everyday and sharing so much with us. Like little packets of happiness. The very best kind of share ware.
3. Suma for her whimsical and spontaneous blogs. All the best with everything.
And much happiness to everyone who is reading this.
P.s. Why do I have this sudden urge to get myself a wand and a tiara? Anybody? :-D
is to represent that the tag is indeed travelling virtually across the world. So without further ado,
1. Tys, like that very first poem, nothing has changed ... I wish for you some Blue Glass Pebbles for the Old Soul in you.
2. Shilpa has my "blessing" for letting us into her kitchen each and everyday and sharing so much with us. Like little packets of happiness. The very best kind of share ware.
3. Suma for her whimsical and spontaneous blogs. All the best with everything.
And much happiness to everyone who is reading this.
P.s. Why do I have this sudden urge to get myself a wand and a tiara? Anybody? :-D
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Yesterday
Watched a lovely little film last night called "Manorama - six feet under". This was to cap off one of those near perfect days that come by so rarely and unexpectedly. I was home from work due to a back ache and enforced bed rest meant that I spent a peaceful day tucked up on my futon reading Murakami's "Kafka on the Shore". My little boy sat on the windowsill with the curtains drawn around him, listening to stories about giant turnips and dragon lanterns on CDs. Quaint and cozy. Made more so by the freak weather which has recently given us torrential rains and some crisp, cold breezes. We spent a nice afternoon giving each other loving looks, impromptu hugs and altogether being very cheesy indeed. The husband would have had a sardonic thing or two to say about all this mooching around. Had he been home. But he wasn't. Out eating dimsumthing with his brother. Ha!
(A quick bit about this Kafka book. All of you who read "Wind up Bird Chronicles" and wanted to murder that Haruki Murakami person for ending the book as abruptly as he did, give the man another chance with this one. Its mesmeric. Spellbinding. Delicious - have to keep turning the pages type of literary wonder. I've been thinking of sneaking it to work with me - but something tells me that might make me look like a bit of a fruitcake, should my colleagues walk in on me suddenly. In other words, do read if you can).
So the man named Tys came home early for a change and whisked us off to a park close to home. We chose a spot on the private beach strip annexed to the park and proceeded to have a whale of a time. Tys had thoughtfully set-up a couple of folding chairs and mats and had even thought to get us some samosas and lemon cakes in case we got hungry. We did. Most of the food somehow found its way into my stomach, and the rest was hurriedly divided between husband and child. It was great. I even had a blanket to wrap myself in and I just sat there listening to the water and looking at the distant city skyline while the other two played close by. A sudden shift in seismic activity right beside me brought me back to earth and I found a pair of eyes peering at me (looking lovingly as it turned out) from the chair beside me and it was Tys come to bond. The next hour or so I spent talking to my husband about this, that and all things random. Chatty we were. Almost like we hadn't a care in the world. I kind of hated to see the evening end. But there are things in this world like sending off your kids to school very early in the morning and we had to eventually pack and head home. But only after I had watched the stars for a long time and had a constellation or two explained to me by the hubba.
And yes, then we watched Manorama. Us 3 on a couch with underage tyke all tucked in and asleep in his dad's arms. Nice.
Moving on ... to Abhay Deol - who would have thought that Deol clan could produce something like an Abhay?? - is he really related to Sunny, Bobby and Dharam paaji? Oye and balle balle I say! He has done a credible job playing a middle class government worker in Lakhot (Rajasthan) who one day finds himself in the midst of a real life murder mystery. It was a gem of a movie - not perfect in the plot, but had me glued to the screen from start to finish. Gul Panag played Abhay's small town wife to perfection - housecoats, peeling aloos for dinner while arguing with husband et al. Fun. And the film is replete with these small things that we'll all find familiar at some point. Plus there is a juicy double murder, Vinay Pathak at his best and Raima Sen bringing in the glam factor. And of course, there is a LOT of Abhay Deol.
The best thing about days like yesterday is that they last forever in all the ways that count.
(A quick bit about this Kafka book. All of you who read "Wind up Bird Chronicles" and wanted to murder that Haruki Murakami person for ending the book as abruptly as he did, give the man another chance with this one. Its mesmeric. Spellbinding. Delicious - have to keep turning the pages type of literary wonder. I've been thinking of sneaking it to work with me - but something tells me that might make me look like a bit of a fruitcake, should my colleagues walk in on me suddenly. In other words, do read if you can).
So the man named Tys came home early for a change and whisked us off to a park close to home. We chose a spot on the private beach strip annexed to the park and proceeded to have a whale of a time. Tys had thoughtfully set-up a couple of folding chairs and mats and had even thought to get us some samosas and lemon cakes in case we got hungry. We did. Most of the food somehow found its way into my stomach, and the rest was hurriedly divided between husband and child. It was great. I even had a blanket to wrap myself in and I just sat there listening to the water and looking at the distant city skyline while the other two played close by. A sudden shift in seismic activity right beside me brought me back to earth and I found a pair of eyes peering at me (looking lovingly as it turned out) from the chair beside me and it was Tys come to bond. The next hour or so I spent talking to my husband about this, that and all things random. Chatty we were. Almost like we hadn't a care in the world. I kind of hated to see the evening end. But there are things in this world like sending off your kids to school very early in the morning and we had to eventually pack and head home. But only after I had watched the stars for a long time and had a constellation or two explained to me by the hubba.
And yes, then we watched Manorama. Us 3 on a couch with underage tyke all tucked in and asleep in his dad's arms. Nice.
Moving on ... to Abhay Deol - who would have thought that Deol clan could produce something like an Abhay?? - is he really related to Sunny, Bobby and Dharam paaji? Oye and balle balle I say! He has done a credible job playing a middle class government worker in Lakhot (Rajasthan) who one day finds himself in the midst of a real life murder mystery. It was a gem of a movie - not perfect in the plot, but had me glued to the screen from start to finish. Gul Panag played Abhay's small town wife to perfection - housecoats, peeling aloos for dinner while arguing with husband et al. Fun. And the film is replete with these small things that we'll all find familiar at some point. Plus there is a juicy double murder, Vinay Pathak at his best and Raima Sen bringing in the glam factor. And of course, there is a LOT of Abhay Deol.
The best thing about days like yesterday is that they last forever in all the ways that count.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Kite Runner
The movie version of the book had its Middle East premier here recently during DIFF and after a mad dash from work through crazy traffic and what not, I managed to get there just in the nick of time.
Pleasant expectations of sitting through a screening involving lots of buttered popcorn, wads of tissue to dry my eyes and the company of friends, were rudely interrupted when I almost tripped face down over a red carpet that went for miles and miles and a gaggle of people who looked like they had just stepped out of the cover of Vogue - dressed in other words, to seriously kill. Yes, I did get the memo asking me to attire myself in "smart casuals" or not bother turning up at all ... and I thought I did myself proud in a resplendent looking embroidered salwar suit people! Clearly not what the organisers had in mind. "Smart" and "Casual" were definitely code words for something else that evening.
Fortunately I had the company of my equally clueless friends and we ducked our way around the (too) well lit red carpet and made for the dark and shadowy corners of the theatre. Not so dark and shadowy as it turned out - the 3 way screen was lit to look like the night sky and it was so pretty that I couldn't care less about my fashion sense or lack thereof! I was there to catch a glimpse of Khaled Hosseini if I could and nothing else really mattered.
I didn't get any popcorn (too pedestrian for the DIFF committee no doubt!) but I got to feast my eyes on a very young looking Hosseini up on the dias, looking humble and handsome and letting the stars of the film shine for the evening. Any of you familiar with ME cinema will know that it was a treat to have the likes of Homayoun Ershadi (he plays baba jan) and Khalid Abdalla (of United 93 fame) present in the flesh just before watching their mesmerising performances on screen.
Kite Runner the movie would in my opinion have not been as poignant as it turned out if it hadn't been for the children Mahmoud and Hassan played by Ali Danish Bakhtiyari and Ahmad Khan Mahmoodzada respectively. They have been brought to Dubai to escape possible harrasament in their hometown of Kabul for enacting the controversial scenes stemming from class oppression that left such a mark on those of us who read the book. The movie version of the same scene I am happy to say has been handled with incredible restraint without losing any of its ability to hit hard in the gut. Those children are special, special, special - I could have Ahmad Khan for a son anyday ... watching him play Hassan in the movie will be a benchmark for child performances in my mind henceforth.
Marc Foster has directed a film that takes only the essence of the book without cheating us of a single nuance that made the book what it was in the first place. All the performances are bang on - although if I had to rate the best of them I would say that Baba jan's role played by Ershadi left the most lasting impression.
Every scene in te film has been pared down from the extensive dialogue in the book to paint a very vivid picture of Afghanistan then and now. The part towards the end of the film which shows a woman being stoned to death for adultery was short, brutal and made the point that every once in awhile we need to be shocked out of our complacent worlds and be aware. Human rights are not even words elsewhere in the world.
Off screen I loved watching the interaction between the Afghani kids and the American producers from Dreamworks who were there that night. I am far from being a die-hard romantic but even I could feel the real affection that they seemed to feel for each other. Altogether a special movie premier indeed.
And yes, the kites looked every bit as glorious flying on the big blue screen as I had imagined.
Go an watch this very important film. You won't regret it.
Pleasant expectations of sitting through a screening involving lots of buttered popcorn, wads of tissue to dry my eyes and the company of friends, were rudely interrupted when I almost tripped face down over a red carpet that went for miles and miles and a gaggle of people who looked like they had just stepped out of the cover of Vogue - dressed in other words, to seriously kill. Yes, I did get the memo asking me to attire myself in "smart casuals" or not bother turning up at all ... and I thought I did myself proud in a resplendent looking embroidered salwar suit people! Clearly not what the organisers had in mind. "Smart" and "Casual" were definitely code words for something else that evening.
Fortunately I had the company of my equally clueless friends and we ducked our way around the (too) well lit red carpet and made for the dark and shadowy corners of the theatre. Not so dark and shadowy as it turned out - the 3 way screen was lit to look like the night sky and it was so pretty that I couldn't care less about my fashion sense or lack thereof! I was there to catch a glimpse of Khaled Hosseini if I could and nothing else really mattered.
I didn't get any popcorn (too pedestrian for the DIFF committee no doubt!) but I got to feast my eyes on a very young looking Hosseini up on the dias, looking humble and handsome and letting the stars of the film shine for the evening. Any of you familiar with ME cinema will know that it was a treat to have the likes of Homayoun Ershadi (he plays baba jan) and Khalid Abdalla (of United 93 fame) present in the flesh just before watching their mesmerising performances on screen.
Kite Runner the movie would in my opinion have not been as poignant as it turned out if it hadn't been for the children Mahmoud and Hassan played by Ali Danish Bakhtiyari and Ahmad Khan Mahmoodzada respectively. They have been brought to Dubai to escape possible harrasament in their hometown of Kabul for enacting the controversial scenes stemming from class oppression that left such a mark on those of us who read the book. The movie version of the same scene I am happy to say has been handled with incredible restraint without losing any of its ability to hit hard in the gut. Those children are special, special, special - I could have Ahmad Khan for a son anyday ... watching him play Hassan in the movie will be a benchmark for child performances in my mind henceforth.
Marc Foster has directed a film that takes only the essence of the book without cheating us of a single nuance that made the book what it was in the first place. All the performances are bang on - although if I had to rate the best of them I would say that Baba jan's role played by Ershadi left the most lasting impression.
Every scene in te film has been pared down from the extensive dialogue in the book to paint a very vivid picture of Afghanistan then and now. The part towards the end of the film which shows a woman being stoned to death for adultery was short, brutal and made the point that every once in awhile we need to be shocked out of our complacent worlds and be aware. Human rights are not even words elsewhere in the world.
Off screen I loved watching the interaction between the Afghani kids and the American producers from Dreamworks who were there that night. I am far from being a die-hard romantic but even I could feel the real affection that they seemed to feel for each other. Altogether a special movie premier indeed.
And yes, the kites looked every bit as glorious flying on the big blue screen as I had imagined.
Go an watch this very important film. You won't regret it.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
HHG has tagged me to reveal 10 things I would like to do in the next decade of my life. I loved this idea! It got me thinking about all the wonderful things I've still got to do - very rejuvenating...
... 1) Like the thought that there is so much travelling I intend to move on with. Trekking in my native Kumaon, camping in all the gorgeous Kerala forests - especially Agastyagudam, riding a bike (ok I can dream can't I?) through Northern Karnataka and Coorg ... I also intend to do Mardi Gras and jazz festivals in New Orleans, visit cafes in Chicago, go sky diving in New Zealand and visit Baker Street in London. I also intend to make at least 10 trips to Pondicherry - its my favorite place in the whole world and I haven't been able to go for 2 whole years.
2) Ongoing effort in the next decade and actually top priority will be to be a better mother to my 4 year old and the new bundle of joy thats coming in May. I go to bed every night wishing I had more patience with my son and that I didn't have so many expectations from such a little tyke. Its a constant struggle against the way I'm made (demanding shrew in other words!) - but I really do want my kids to have memorable childhoods for all the right reasons!
3) I'm going to write a book. Cross my heart and hope to die. Its called "Red November" and its a work in progress ... ahem (i.e. been writing for the last 3 years with no end or publisher in sight :-D ).
4) I'll move back to Bangalore - with or without my husband! Be warned Tys ... its not an empty threat. Seven years in UAE feels like an exile and it gets worse every year. At the risk of sounding pompous, I do want to live, love and give something back to the country that shaped who I am. I dream of breathing Indian air sometimes ... and as filmi as that sounds its all too real to me.
5) Make a start towards helping my aunt in her Anganwadi projects in Kumaon. This means providing basic food (mid day meal)and education to underprivileged children. And there are any number of these in Uttaranchal. My trips back there are one heart breaking moment after another of deprivation and sad little faces ... too many for things to be any good. I do what I can when I'm there but its nothing without more time and yes the all important dedication. I'll get my little brood involved as well. I can't imagine a better lesson in humanity than this.
6) I intend to grow older gracefully. The way I look I mean - I shall colour and trim those tresses, take those bitten to the quick nails and actually go all elegant with them (French manicure ladies and er gents!), repeat said manicure every month or so(right now its an annual thing), stop wearing khadi and journalisty looking chappals as my mom so articulately puts it and try to do something with maybe gasp a dress or something. There, whew! I've voiced my secret desire and maybe I'll start looking a bit like those women my husband secretly ogles when he things I'm not looking!
7) Learn to swim - such a shame that I can't! And yet I expect my son to be some kind of junior swimming champ everytime he so much as hits the bathtuub. sigh ... work harder on point 2!
8) Spend much more time with my parents. They are wonderful company and they think that the sun shines out of my _______ . Time flies when I'm with them and my dad's creativity always challenges me to push the limits on my own. Plus nobody cooks food like my mom does. And oh yeah, I don't do nearly enough for a couple of people who have dedicated their whole live to me and my sister. And I want to.
9) Build a house in Pithoragarh and grow a garden just like my grandmother had. Peach trees, tomatoes and green green herbs (corriander, methi, green chillies). She passed away in Jan and with her gone I feel so insecure that my "pahadi" connection will go missing as well - and that my kids will lose track of their Kumaoni half. That house is a must.
10) And what I must immediately do of course is to tag Tys, Twinga, Prats and Vidya on how they're going to spend the next 10 years of course!
Good night all. This was so much fun!
... 1) Like the thought that there is so much travelling I intend to move on with. Trekking in my native Kumaon, camping in all the gorgeous Kerala forests - especially Agastyagudam, riding a bike (ok I can dream can't I?) through Northern Karnataka and Coorg ... I also intend to do Mardi Gras and jazz festivals in New Orleans, visit cafes in Chicago, go sky diving in New Zealand and visit Baker Street in London. I also intend to make at least 10 trips to Pondicherry - its my favorite place in the whole world and I haven't been able to go for 2 whole years.
2) Ongoing effort in the next decade and actually top priority will be to be a better mother to my 4 year old and the new bundle of joy thats coming in May. I go to bed every night wishing I had more patience with my son and that I didn't have so many expectations from such a little tyke. Its a constant struggle against the way I'm made (demanding shrew in other words!) - but I really do want my kids to have memorable childhoods for all the right reasons!
3) I'm going to write a book. Cross my heart and hope to die. Its called "Red November" and its a work in progress ... ahem (i.e. been writing for the last 3 years with no end or publisher in sight :-D ).
4) I'll move back to Bangalore - with or without my husband! Be warned Tys ... its not an empty threat. Seven years in UAE feels like an exile and it gets worse every year. At the risk of sounding pompous, I do want to live, love and give something back to the country that shaped who I am. I dream of breathing Indian air sometimes ... and as filmi as that sounds its all too real to me.
5) Make a start towards helping my aunt in her Anganwadi projects in Kumaon. This means providing basic food (mid day meal)and education to underprivileged children. And there are any number of these in Uttaranchal. My trips back there are one heart breaking moment after another of deprivation and sad little faces ... too many for things to be any good. I do what I can when I'm there but its nothing without more time and yes the all important dedication. I'll get my little brood involved as well. I can't imagine a better lesson in humanity than this.
6) I intend to grow older gracefully. The way I look I mean - I shall colour and trim those tresses, take those bitten to the quick nails and actually go all elegant with them (French manicure ladies and er gents!), repeat said manicure every month or so(right now its an annual thing), stop wearing khadi and journalisty looking chappals as my mom so articulately puts it and try to do something with maybe gasp a dress or something. There, whew! I've voiced my secret desire and maybe I'll start looking a bit like those women my husband secretly ogles when he things I'm not looking!
7) Learn to swim - such a shame that I can't! And yet I expect my son to be some kind of junior swimming champ everytime he so much as hits the bathtuub. sigh ... work harder on point 2!
8) Spend much more time with my parents. They are wonderful company and they think that the sun shines out of my _______ . Time flies when I'm with them and my dad's creativity always challenges me to push the limits on my own. Plus nobody cooks food like my mom does. And oh yeah, I don't do nearly enough for a couple of people who have dedicated their whole live to me and my sister. And I want to.
9) Build a house in Pithoragarh and grow a garden just like my grandmother had. Peach trees, tomatoes and green green herbs (corriander, methi, green chillies). She passed away in Jan and with her gone I feel so insecure that my "pahadi" connection will go missing as well - and that my kids will lose track of their Kumaoni half. That house is a must.
10) And what I must immediately do of course is to tag Tys, Twinga, Prats and Vidya on how they're going to spend the next 10 years of course!
Good night all. This was so much fun!
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
The brave new world
Something frightening is happening to all of us and we're not paying attention to it. The world at large seems to be going slightly mad, but thats not the scary part. Its the fact that we're going a little Gillian Gibbons on important issues.
This nondescript, nice looking middle aged lady and a teacher - someone who reminds me of my mother, decided that at 54, she needed a "bit of adventure" in her life and taking up a teaching post in Sudan would fit that bill very nicely ... literally a far cry from her no doubt routine life as a wife, mother and teacher in safe Liverpool. What she got instead was what she endearingly/naively? refers to as "a bit more than I bargained for". And there, in that too understated for the occassion statement, lies one of the truly scary things I've heard lately.
For those of you following this obscure story in Sudan, the teacher in question was sentenced to 15 days in prison for allowing her primary school students to name a teddy bear after the Prophet Mohammed. This was part of a little naming game she was playing with her class - a supposedly harmless, educational excersise where students would name their stuffed toy a name of their choice. The fact that 40 out 44 of those children chose the name "Mohammed" may have had something to do with the fact that she selected it as the clear winner.
The Sudanese government and hardliners however, beg to differ. Gillian's little ordinary, everyday act was deemed an "insult to Islam" for which she was taken into custody, put through a full fledged court hearing and then, in all defiance of the thing we once knew as common sense, was actually sentenced to prison for 15 days where she received a presidential pardon after carrying out 6 days of the term.
Let this be a lesson to the rest of the world the hardliners say. They could have sentenced her to 40 lashes and even execution for this heinous and blatant disregard for the supposedly collective Muslim sentiment - but they have been oh so humane in only stripping her of her safe, prtoected middle aged dignity and reducing to ashes the entire basis that defines her life as a human being and subjecting her to the sort of time in court that we wouldn't imagine in our worst nightmares for near and dear. Charitable I call it folks. Positively charitable.
And scary part? Gillian Gibbons in her actions and statements since her release has indicated to the world at large that she somehow deserved all of it. That she had caused offence - and is teary eyed about how it was never her intention to do so. "I was very upset to think that I might have caused offense to people", she said. She cloaks the sentence she served in a vague cloud of "its a delicate area" and should not be discussed. The victim has identified with the oppressor.
The hardliners were always there. But a new and more dangerous element is now in the mix - its us. We who used to be outraged and active are now all justification and passivity. The other point of view is slowly becoming the only point of view - black and white are no longer good colours and this, along with Daniel Pearl and countless others is going to be an old forgotten story in the big book of 21st century horror tales.
This nondescript, nice looking middle aged lady and a teacher - someone who reminds me of my mother, decided that at 54, she needed a "bit of adventure" in her life and taking up a teaching post in Sudan would fit that bill very nicely ... literally a far cry from her no doubt routine life as a wife, mother and teacher in safe Liverpool. What she got instead was what she endearingly/naively? refers to as "a bit more than I bargained for". And there, in that too understated for the occassion statement, lies one of the truly scary things I've heard lately.
For those of you following this obscure story in Sudan, the teacher in question was sentenced to 15 days in prison for allowing her primary school students to name a teddy bear after the Prophet Mohammed. This was part of a little naming game she was playing with her class - a supposedly harmless, educational excersise where students would name their stuffed toy a name of their choice. The fact that 40 out 44 of those children chose the name "Mohammed" may have had something to do with the fact that she selected it as the clear winner.
The Sudanese government and hardliners however, beg to differ. Gillian's little ordinary, everyday act was deemed an "insult to Islam" for which she was taken into custody, put through a full fledged court hearing and then, in all defiance of the thing we once knew as common sense, was actually sentenced to prison for 15 days where she received a presidential pardon after carrying out 6 days of the term.
Let this be a lesson to the rest of the world the hardliners say. They could have sentenced her to 40 lashes and even execution for this heinous and blatant disregard for the supposedly collective Muslim sentiment - but they have been oh so humane in only stripping her of her safe, prtoected middle aged dignity and reducing to ashes the entire basis that defines her life as a human being and subjecting her to the sort of time in court that we wouldn't imagine in our worst nightmares for near and dear. Charitable I call it folks. Positively charitable.
And scary part? Gillian Gibbons in her actions and statements since her release has indicated to the world at large that she somehow deserved all of it. That she had caused offence - and is teary eyed about how it was never her intention to do so. "I was very upset to think that I might have caused offense to people", she said. She cloaks the sentence she served in a vague cloud of "its a delicate area" and should not be discussed. The victim has identified with the oppressor.
The hardliners were always there. But a new and more dangerous element is now in the mix - its us. We who used to be outraged and active are now all justification and passivity. The other point of view is slowly becoming the only point of view - black and white are no longer good colours and this, along with Daniel Pearl and countless others is going to be an old forgotten story in the big book of 21st century horror tales.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Worse than I thought
Ok, so Tys decided to thrust me into the limelight by tagging me ... clearly the man will not rest till the rest of the world is in on what he endures at home everyday :). In other words, this here post is all about: Seven Random and / or Weird Things about Me.
The Rules (yes there are rules!), are as follows:
Rules : Link to the person that tagged you, and post the rules on your blog.
Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself.
Tag 7 random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
Well this is going to be interesting because even my mother won't deny that I'm somewhat er, strange. The pickings as it were, are far from slim in my case. But I'm going to go easy on you unsuspecting folks by listing some of my milder eccentrecities (is that a word?)here:
1. The husband brought it to my notice the other day, that I'm one of the few (read only) people he knows who laughs out loud in movie theatres even at mildly funny scenes. Ahem, see I thought this happened to everyone, but ... APPPARENTLY NOT. So while everyone gently sniggers or smiles to themselves at whatever comic relief is currently playing on screen, I tend to slap the proverbial thigh and pull out all stops with the guffaws and the ha ha's. Most unladylike I'm sure. So now I know why I attract so much attention at movie theatres. Hmmm ... ah well ... so its not my radiant beauty then.
2. Also, I will clean the entire house before the cleaner actually arrives. And yes, I have a point to that. I cannot have a random lady think bad thoughts about my housekeeping skills. Even if she is there to actually keep the house. The shock, awe and ultimately admiring looks I get from these erstwhile women are worth all the sweat and toil I assure you. Makes me happy ... and a little smug.
3. Offence is my best form of defence. Tys knows all about this. One of the Hindu scriptures state that going on the war path should be the final option after Sama (pacification), Daana (bribing), Bheda (conspiracy) have all been tried to no avail. Well, I clearly missed that class. Sometimes I find myself talking real loud (ie. needlessly arguing) at a mystified audience of my colleagues - and realise that heck, we were only discussing our post lunch 3 pm coffee order. A simple yes or no to the samosa with chutney or ketchup question would have sufficed. Oh, and did I mention that I always won at school debates. A.L.W.A.Y.S. Yep.
4. Clothes in the cupboard must all be folded lengthwise and placed in designated piles. If I don't have time to do this very important thing, they will remain in a heap and fall out at me or my unsuspecting cats, every single time the said cupboard is opened.
5. My specs, mobile phone and car keys have a mysterious habit of never being found. This clearly has nothing to do with me being weird. Can I help it if somebody put the glasses in the fridge next to the cheese, the phone in the bathroom and the keys in some new exciting place every single day? I'll bet its all a plot to unnerve me and frazzle my nerves ... not that it takes much. Tys insists that I have the "find things" chip missing in my brain. He goes so far as to say that it was heavenly intervention that brought us together or I would lose myself in a swamp somewhere someday. Oh what pish ptosh!
6. I light enough candles at the slightest excuse to pose a potential fire hazard to the entire neighbourhood and get this ... its in order to "soothe me" :-D. Definitely not soothing for the poor neighbours who are now quite immune to the smoke detector going off most evenings. He he he.
7. And finally, I'm too weird to end with this limited 7 thingy. So I'll end by saying that my darling son aged 4, is nothing like me. Well yes, he looks just like the mater all slightly chinky eyes and everything, but thankfully, heaven did intervene and made him as ahem, balanced and sane as his father. The child has now taken to looking at me warily (refer photo on top left corner) every now and then and asking me "Ma, whatcha doin?" ... what he can't articulate of course is "Ma, are you quite alright and all there?" - or "Mom, please tell me I ain't gonna be an eccentric old coot like you someday".
Thass all folks!
And oh yes, another thing I can never do is follow rules, so I'm not gonna tag anyone else. Ha.
Monday, October 1, 2007
The Pahadi thing
So my quest for all things true seem to lead to all things food! These days I think of blogs in terms of recipes and I guess I could do a lot worse?
The last few weeks have been particularly exhausting and what with this and that, I can barely seem to keep any food down. Getting through a day of home, hearth, child and office from dawn to dusk has me a little lost sometimes - where's me in all of this I wonder? (Ok, not ALL the time, but enough to sit up and take notice). So the last evening I spent all by my lonesome, curled up on my couch (for all of 5 minutes) with the house fragrant with the evening puja incense and warm with the diyas was a special one. I had 3 hours to "discover" myself again and of course I headed straight to the kitchen! Tired from hours of nausea and the hard work of catering to my son, employees, clients etc. all I wanted was a delicious, simple and comforting meal to up my happiness quotient.
20 minutes later I had it in the form of "Methi Jholi and Basmati Rice". A recipe from my Pahadi origins to soothe the soul I tell you. Must share this:
Methi Jholi:
1. A bunch of fresh methi (fenugreek) leaves or 2 tbsps of dry Kasuri methi.
2. 1 Tbsp of atta (wheat flour).
3. 2 tsps ghee.
4. Pinch each of turmeric, chillie and jeera (cumin seeds) powder.
5. 250 ml of thinned down yoghurt beaten with a whisk
6. Salt to taste.
7. About 100 ml of water.
Heat some ghee in a heavy pan and stir fry the methi till fragrant. Add the atta and fry coninuously for 2 minutes till its turns golden brown. Now add enough water to make a smooth paste without lumps. Once the mixture blends, add the dry masalas and fry for 30 seconds.
Now add the beaten yoghurt and bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Add salt and garnish with corriander leaves.
Pour this divine kadi over some hot basmati rice. You won't need any asides to complete this wonderful meal. Trust me on that.
The last few weeks have been particularly exhausting and what with this and that, I can barely seem to keep any food down. Getting through a day of home, hearth, child and office from dawn to dusk has me a little lost sometimes - where's me in all of this I wonder? (Ok, not ALL the time, but enough to sit up and take notice). So the last evening I spent all by my lonesome, curled up on my couch (for all of 5 minutes) with the house fragrant with the evening puja incense and warm with the diyas was a special one. I had 3 hours to "discover" myself again and of course I headed straight to the kitchen! Tired from hours of nausea and the hard work of catering to my son, employees, clients etc. all I wanted was a delicious, simple and comforting meal to up my happiness quotient.
20 minutes later I had it in the form of "Methi Jholi and Basmati Rice". A recipe from my Pahadi origins to soothe the soul I tell you. Must share this:
Methi Jholi:
1. A bunch of fresh methi (fenugreek) leaves or 2 tbsps of dry Kasuri methi.
2. 1 Tbsp of atta (wheat flour).
3. 2 tsps ghee.
4. Pinch each of turmeric, chillie and jeera (cumin seeds) powder.
5. 250 ml of thinned down yoghurt beaten with a whisk
6. Salt to taste.
7. About 100 ml of water.
Heat some ghee in a heavy pan and stir fry the methi till fragrant. Add the atta and fry coninuously for 2 minutes till its turns golden brown. Now add enough water to make a smooth paste without lumps. Once the mixture blends, add the dry masalas and fry for 30 seconds.
Now add the beaten yoghurt and bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Add salt and garnish with corriander leaves.
Pour this divine kadi over some hot basmati rice. You won't need any asides to complete this wonderful meal. Trust me on that.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Easy like
Friday mid-morning brunches with friends are something I've come to enjoy a whole lot. We did this two Fridays in a row and methinks it can become a regular ritual.
The big idea of course is to have something hearty that can stave off hunger pangs between 11 a.m. and 3 p.m. With friends to help you cook-in, it doesn't seem like much of a chore either. We had puris both Fridays - with dry aloos/raitha and mishti dohi (mildly sweetened and baked yoghurt) the first time and "bhutte ki kachori" (corn stuffed puris) the second.
Those fragrant golden yellow kachoris are something that my mom makes to perfection - takes a bit of work but for those of you who are interested, here goes:
What you need:
For the filling
1. 1 tin whole kernel corn or fresh corn from 4 cobs
2. Whole garam masala (One stick cinnamon, 4 cloves and 2 green cardamoms)
3. 1 inch piece ginger and 5 cloves of garlic
4. Green chillies and salt to taste
5. 2 tsps of aniseeds and 1 tsp of jeera for tempering
Grind these without water to a coarse paste. Heat oil in a pan, splutter the jeera and anise till fragrant. Add the paste and stir fry for about 10 minutes till the mixture is almost dry and the oil separates.
For the dough:
1. Whole wheat flour (atta) and semolina (rava) in a 3:1 proportion
2. 2 tbsps of melted ghee
3. Salt to taste
4. Water for kneading
5. Oil to deep fry
Sift the flours together with salt and rub in the melted ghee for a biscuit crumble like consistency. Add water to make a smooth and slightly hard - regular puri dough.
To make these golden treats:
1. Make small balls of the dough.
2. Roll out each to the size of a regular puri and place some of the filling in the centre.
3. Seal the dough on all sides and roll out again gently
4. Deep fry.
These are best served with green chutney (mint, corriander leaves, green chillies, salt, sugar and jeera ground together) and a spicy potato with thin gravy (splutter onion seeds (kalonji), garlic and green chillies slit length wise in some hot oil, add chopped onions with turmeric and salt and cook in water till done).
These here kachoris make like they're straight from kitchen heaven! - hope this works for you guys as well. Happy cooking.
The big idea of course is to have something hearty that can stave off hunger pangs between 11 a.m. and 3 p.m. With friends to help you cook-in, it doesn't seem like much of a chore either. We had puris both Fridays - with dry aloos/raitha and mishti dohi (mildly sweetened and baked yoghurt) the first time and "bhutte ki kachori" (corn stuffed puris) the second.
Those fragrant golden yellow kachoris are something that my mom makes to perfection - takes a bit of work but for those of you who are interested, here goes:
What you need:
For the filling
1. 1 tin whole kernel corn or fresh corn from 4 cobs
2. Whole garam masala (One stick cinnamon, 4 cloves and 2 green cardamoms)
3. 1 inch piece ginger and 5 cloves of garlic
4. Green chillies and salt to taste
5. 2 tsps of aniseeds and 1 tsp of jeera for tempering
Grind these without water to a coarse paste. Heat oil in a pan, splutter the jeera and anise till fragrant. Add the paste and stir fry for about 10 minutes till the mixture is almost dry and the oil separates.
For the dough:
1. Whole wheat flour (atta) and semolina (rava) in a 3:1 proportion
2. 2 tbsps of melted ghee
3. Salt to taste
4. Water for kneading
5. Oil to deep fry
Sift the flours together with salt and rub in the melted ghee for a biscuit crumble like consistency. Add water to make a smooth and slightly hard - regular puri dough.
To make these golden treats:
1. Make small balls of the dough.
2. Roll out each to the size of a regular puri and place some of the filling in the centre.
3. Seal the dough on all sides and roll out again gently
4. Deep fry.
These are best served with green chutney (mint, corriander leaves, green chillies, salt, sugar and jeera ground together) and a spicy potato with thin gravy (splutter onion seeds (kalonji), garlic and green chillies slit length wise in some hot oil, add chopped onions with turmeric and salt and cook in water till done).
These here kachoris make like they're straight from kitchen heaven! - hope this works for you guys as well. Happy cooking.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
The big divide
At 33, I've already begun to think of 20 somethings as the "brave NEW generation" of young 'uns who go out an take what they want! Methinks this is not good for my much coddled brain cells. I mean, I don't recognise most of anything thats being spoken about, whispered and giggled between my younger friends these days. Its a strange feeling folks. I'm no longer at the core of things. The world in other words, has ceased to revolve around me! Fancy that!
I've always been slightly strange and quixotic (my family assures me). But this new phenomenon of having to look up the hipsters english language dictionary for all things happening, cannot be all me surely? - right? RIGHT?
So I'm going to deal with this new thingamybob change the way I do anything else. With class and elan* - (and for those of you who think being 30 is a sort of premature death, foot note follows). In other words, this week shall see me tint my greying tresses, french polish those bitten to the quick nails, update my make-up kit ( ... as if I have one), get meself a few of those bubble skirts and shifts that make you look stick thin on top and slightly pregnant in the centre (all in the name of fashion) and seriously change the way I talk. I mean seriously. Mouthing words like the above referenced elan, ubiquitous, supercilious and merde, merde, merde are just not going to get me anywhere. I realise that now. Nor are the abilities to think, reason, be a Montessori mom and cook more than one decent meal a day. These here put me firmly in the "do you actually have a life" category. So they definitely have to go.
I need these in a hurry y'all - a stylist, a babysitter, Paris Hilton's finishing school address and above all - a translator. Comprende? Well then, get on it - STAT.
*elan is fancy for distinctive style and flair. Write that 20 times on the black board now.
I've always been slightly strange and quixotic (my family assures me). But this new phenomenon of having to look up the hipsters english language dictionary for all things happening, cannot be all me surely? - right? RIGHT?
So I'm going to deal with this new thingamybob change the way I do anything else. With class and elan* - (and for those of you who think being 30 is a sort of premature death, foot note follows). In other words, this week shall see me tint my greying tresses, french polish those bitten to the quick nails, update my make-up kit ( ... as if I have one), get meself a few of those bubble skirts and shifts that make you look stick thin on top and slightly pregnant in the centre (all in the name of fashion) and seriously change the way I talk. I mean seriously. Mouthing words like the above referenced elan, ubiquitous, supercilious and merde, merde, merde are just not going to get me anywhere. I realise that now. Nor are the abilities to think, reason, be a Montessori mom and cook more than one decent meal a day. These here put me firmly in the "do you actually have a life" category. So they definitely have to go.
I need these in a hurry y'all - a stylist, a babysitter, Paris Hilton's finishing school address and above all - a translator. Comprende? Well then, get on it - STAT.
*elan is fancy for distinctive style and flair. Write that 20 times on the black board now.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Right about now, am thinking how enured I've become to seeing cats, dogs and birds being run over and dying painfully on the streets of UAE. Big 4 wheelers that were designed to glide over shifty sand, fitted with precise and sophisticated navigation systems, interiors straight out of a lifestyle magazine - can do almost everything. They can even squelch the innards out of kittens and not let the driver know.
It was a bird this morning. Flying low and meeting its end on the windshield of a passing car. The driver didn't blink an eyelid. How could she? Her time was otherwise taken up talking on the phone and trying to get a grip on her 120 kmph speed thing while approaching a traffic signal.
It might be children next. Oh wait. Thats already been done. Big assed status symbol of a Pajero just missed seeing that 3 year old who was playing on the ground. Just a case of poor visibility thats all.
So much is passe now. Too much actually. Things aren't getting more complicated. We're just getting to be surface dwellers is all. Rats in a race that ends with the end.
Banal but worryingly true?
It was a bird this morning. Flying low and meeting its end on the windshield of a passing car. The driver didn't blink an eyelid. How could she? Her time was otherwise taken up talking on the phone and trying to get a grip on her 120 kmph speed thing while approaching a traffic signal.
It might be children next. Oh wait. Thats already been done. Big assed status symbol of a Pajero just missed seeing that 3 year old who was playing on the ground. Just a case of poor visibility thats all.
So much is passe now. Too much actually. Things aren't getting more complicated. We're just getting to be surface dwellers is all. Rats in a race that ends with the end.
Banal but worryingly true?
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Food for all
Visited a friend's food space blog the other day. She likes to keep it a secret but that would be a real shame y'all.
Its at http://foodonmybrain.blogspot.com . Love the simplicity of sharing what you know to cook with the world at large. Love her whimsical recipes.
If I was promoting one love for one world - sharing recipes would be top on my agenda. Shareware of the best kind. Lets get back to the quintessential - god knows we all need to simplify. Each day we'll pick, choose, gather and make our food. Time well spent. Time away from plotting, warring and taking away.
I love the idea of networking. Its so effective - so lets find out what they eat in Albania? - or what they don't eat in Ethiopia. Or what happens to the majority of our race who have bloated bellies because they are filled with air instead of food? Maybe knowing something will make us do something?
Food is representative of everything thats right.
Except when you don't know how to make what you want.
Except when you don't have any to eat.
The first is easily rectified. Lets make khichidi today.
1. Split black gram dal - 1 cup
2. Basmati rice - 2 cups
3. Sliced onions - 1/2 cup
4. Some ghee or oil (about 2 tbsps)
5. Jeera seeds and pinch of hing.
6. Green peas (optional).
Heat oil in a cooker (or any heavy bottomed vessel). Splutter the jeera and hing till your kitchen basks in the aroma. Brown the onions and add washed rice and dal. Stir for half a minute. Add some salt and pinch of turmeric powder for colour. Toss in the green peas if using them. Add exactly double the quantity of water (6 cups in this case). Close and pressure cook for 2 whistles (how quaintly Indian is that!) or until all the water is absorbed and the khichidi comes out all fragrant and fluffy.
Transfer to steel plates and eat with pickle, yoghurt, papad or just as it is. Remember to share. Some for the neighbours and some to the soup kitchen.
Its at http://foodonmybrain.blogspot.com . Love the simplicity of sharing what you know to cook with the world at large. Love her whimsical recipes.
If I was promoting one love for one world - sharing recipes would be top on my agenda. Shareware of the best kind. Lets get back to the quintessential - god knows we all need to simplify. Each day we'll pick, choose, gather and make our food. Time well spent. Time away from plotting, warring and taking away.
I love the idea of networking. Its so effective - so lets find out what they eat in Albania? - or what they don't eat in Ethiopia. Or what happens to the majority of our race who have bloated bellies because they are filled with air instead of food? Maybe knowing something will make us do something?
Food is representative of everything thats right.
Except when you don't know how to make what you want.
Except when you don't have any to eat.
The first is easily rectified. Lets make khichidi today.
1. Split black gram dal - 1 cup
2. Basmati rice - 2 cups
3. Sliced onions - 1/2 cup
4. Some ghee or oil (about 2 tbsps)
5. Jeera seeds and pinch of hing.
6. Green peas (optional).
Heat oil in a cooker (or any heavy bottomed vessel). Splutter the jeera and hing till your kitchen basks in the aroma. Brown the onions and add washed rice and dal. Stir for half a minute. Add some salt and pinch of turmeric powder for colour. Toss in the green peas if using them. Add exactly double the quantity of water (6 cups in this case). Close and pressure cook for 2 whistles (how quaintly Indian is that!) or until all the water is absorbed and the khichidi comes out all fragrant and fluffy.
Transfer to steel plates and eat with pickle, yoghurt, papad or just as it is. Remember to share. Some for the neighbours and some to the soup kitchen.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Doing it right?
Raising children is a much underestimated artform. When I think back on my own - er ... colourful days as a child and teenager, I can only give my parent's 2 thumbs up for what they must have had to endure!
A typical day in the life of little (and I mean the size of a 25 p coin) Ri, has a full sized (ahem) and mainly rational adult - namely, me, doing the complete gamut of emotion - starting with despair and ending full circle. In despair :D.
Truth of the matter:
1. Children were not born conformists. More is the pity! In the unfathomable mind of a tot, left is usually right and all rights are to be ignored.
2. Mothers and kids = power struggle.
3. Fathers and kids = ohlookwhatwehaveherealittlechildandwheredidhecomefrom?!
4. What your child wants to eat at any given meal is inversely proportionate to whatever treat you've lovingly and painstakingly prepared at the time. So if noodles and chocolate cookie are on the menu, rest assured that you'll be asked for brown bread and fruit!
5. LOVE is really what you feel for said tot. All else pales - or at least gets creamed ;)
6. Size 0 clothes from new fangled tot fashion stores = big sized 0 in your wallet.
7. And the OTT alert? Your kids are the spitting image of you at one time or the other. Things finally begin to fall in place.
Spiritual, future, awareness, clarity, life plan.
What I know does not come from a book, author, guru or god.
A typical day in the life of little (and I mean the size of a 25 p coin) Ri, has a full sized (ahem) and mainly rational adult - namely, me, doing the complete gamut of emotion - starting with despair and ending full circle. In despair :D.
Truth of the matter:
1. Children were not born conformists. More is the pity! In the unfathomable mind of a tot, left is usually right and all rights are to be ignored.
2. Mothers and kids = power struggle.
3. Fathers and kids = ohlookwhatwehaveherealittlechildandwheredidhecomefrom?!
4. What your child wants to eat at any given meal is inversely proportionate to whatever treat you've lovingly and painstakingly prepared at the time. So if noodles and chocolate cookie are on the menu, rest assured that you'll be asked for brown bread and fruit!
5. LOVE is really what you feel for said tot. All else pales - or at least gets creamed ;)
6. Size 0 clothes from new fangled tot fashion stores = big sized 0 in your wallet.
7. And the OTT alert? Your kids are the spitting image of you at one time or the other. Things finally begin to fall in place.
Spiritual, future, awareness, clarity, life plan.
What I know does not come from a book, author, guru or god.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
All about blokes ...
... met this one last week (you know who you are ... hmmm). Shapely head, prominent A's apple and not much else. Really. Truth be told, he leaned more towards the asinine than anything I have come across in awhile - and I meet a few.
Said bloke speaks thusly:
"This place is something else (accompanied by eyes rolling into above mentioned shiny pate). Back in England", says he, "all I would need to do is find a vendor, give him the required specs and chop chop - know what I mean?"
Yes, I did know.
"So", continues bloke "I need someone from your office to come with me to the SITE and suggest or come forward with a good solution for a long term, you know, durable, and you know, VISIBLE kind of sign for blah blah and more of the same ...
That would be me, says I.
"You"? he says. "A huh" says he.
M hmm, says I.
"Na-ah", he continues in his baa lamb kind of way "you see, my dear" (sound of grinding teeth - mine.), "what we need heaarre is a production man" says this sorry bloke. "We need to go to the SITE you understand"?
I'm thinking - What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What?
When I was able to swallow again, thus flowed my responses:
"Bloke" I said (no, not really I didn't). "Come along and show me the damned site already". "Chop chop now". "Haven't got all day". "And no man, from production or otherwise is coming along". "So, its me you've got". And to the sound of drumrolls I round off with this masterpiece "In other words, ALL you've got is ME" .
"Well spoken" says the bloke. Who was now also a wiseass.
Round one to the bloke.
Said bloke speaks thusly:
"This place is something else (accompanied by eyes rolling into above mentioned shiny pate). Back in England", says he, "all I would need to do is find a vendor, give him the required specs and chop chop - know what I mean?"
Yes, I did know.
"So", continues bloke "I need someone from your office to come with me to the SITE and suggest or come forward with a good solution for a long term, you know, durable, and you know, VISIBLE kind of sign for blah blah and more of the same ...
That would be me, says I.
"You"? he says. "A huh" says he.
M hmm, says I.
"Na-ah", he continues in his baa lamb kind of way "you see, my dear" (sound of grinding teeth - mine.), "what we need heaarre is a production man" says this sorry bloke. "We need to go to the SITE you understand"?
I'm thinking - What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What?
When I was able to swallow again, thus flowed my responses:
"Bloke" I said (no, not really I didn't). "Come along and show me the damned site already". "Chop chop now". "Haven't got all day". "And no man, from production or otherwise is coming along". "So, its me you've got". And to the sound of drumrolls I round off with this masterpiece "In other words, ALL you've got is ME" .
"Well spoken" says the bloke. Who was now also a wiseass.
Round one to the bloke.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Verity Anyone?
We're all dying. Inevitably and surely. Time goes by and things don't clarify.
But its funny how we can all recognize the truth when we find it.
Its the truth. And the truth of the matter is that.
I am closer to having lived my life today than I was yesterday. Time goes by. Things don't clarify.
Write me an original thought.
But its funny how we can all recognize the truth when we find it.
Its the truth. And the truth of the matter is that.
I am closer to having lived my life today than I was yesterday. Time goes by. Things don't clarify.
Write me an original thought.
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