Do Visit my very own 'Food' Blog' for delicious meals

Monday 18 April 2011

CSAAM April 2011- 'Unsafe World'.

“Don’t ever get married, Maria” said Annie to her sister after her first wedding night, “All men are dogs, a real crazy dogs! They suck the life off you. I feel dirty all over and I have taken bath twice since morning.”

Maria glared at her, letting the words seep in, she had never wanted to get married, not then, for she was quite young. In fact, she had decided long ago that she would never ever get married. But listening to her sister talk about her lawful husband like that seemed so wierd. Were men so violent with their wives too? She had been afraid of men for many years now. Each time, any boy/men had tried to talk to her, her heart would skip a beat, she would feel the heat under her ear-lobes, on her cheeks and a current of chill pass through her bones, she would try to find some ways to escape, making an excuse to walk out, or else shift his attention to some other interesting stuff. She could never take a compliment in her stride, especially not from men; she knew men had only one thought in their mind and that all the conversations would finally lead to sex.

During her school years too, she was a loner and had a very low self esteem, she hated long lunch breaks during which while her school friends laughed and played, she would prefer to sneak down to the nursery section of the school and watch the tiny tots in their activities. Children were real time-pass and they gave her all the pleasure and happiness, she believed that only children’s smiles were innocent and pure; the adult world was too cruel for her to adjust.

Nobody had told her about good/ bad touch when she was barely five years old. With father always in and out of hospitals, mother was too occupied nursing and taking care of the house. “Go out and play, there is too much work to do, you are making too much noise at home, go to the stairway and play out there.” Her mom would scream each time she took out her dolls to play.

So, most of her time she played on the stairway which had long veranda, enough space to run and scream and came home only to eat meals or to sleep, there were four more girls of her age in the same building, with whom she would play and they were her friends. They would play hide-n-seek, or slide down the railings of the stairway or walk down to the building compound to play some out-door games. The building had many men visitors. They were dhobis, watchmen, postmen, plumbers, hawkers, electrician, etc. with whom they often inter-acted. Some of them would offer lollipops to them and then sit with them on the staircase and relate to some expressive fairy tales or songs. The five-years-old never understood that good touch from a bad touch and thought it was the part of the game.

A game that affected their performance at school and they were listed as ‘duffers’ and ignored by teachers who had no patience with them. The teachers punished them for their stupidity and their inability to understand simple explanations during school lessons.

When Marie’s father passed away, they moved away from that neighborhood and migrated to another town. She never went back to meet those friends, never had an opportunity to keep in contact with them. But the fear of strangers clung on in the Meta of her life and subconsciously, she developed the hatred for men.

“All men are like that only” she said to her sister, Annie.

PS:
World is unsafe, especially for girls who are little and don’t understand good/bad touch which comes to haunt them later in life as it shapes their life to adjust in the ‘perfect’ world. Read the bloggers’ stories, survivor’s stories and advice from experts who have come together under one umbrella to talk openly during this Child sexual abuse Awareness month.


more resources on Child abuse at
Sexual abuse in India
Enfold Proactive health trust 
Child protection in India
Practical advice to parents
Centre for prevention and healing of sexually abused child


Wednesday 6 April 2011

Sunday 3 April 2011

So this 'World Cup' is ours to keep for next four years.

Throughout the day we sat, nail-biting, although there was lots of food in the house, a special meal to suit everybody’s taste but still, nails are tastier in the times of stress.

This was the Day of Judgment, there was question on everybody’d mind - "Who will win the world cup?"

Actually speaking, I don’t understand this game of Cricket and find it a sheer waste of my time, seems so silly to follow every ball around the screen (I mean field). I am always awed by people who get super-excited as they follow the balls’ movements zigzagging its way in different directions after being whacked by a hard wooden bat, the batsmen running up and down between two ends of the stumps, hundreds of spectators announcing the same score, and all this while I am thinking, "What game is this, that keeps the people’s passion so alive that they scream and hoot as though their life depends on that score". Duh!

“I have better things to do” I mumble, tuk-tuking my head at this madness, until the day arrives when the cricket fever is so high that the temperature in my environment rises beyond my ignorance value. I realize that this is neither one of those 1000 odd ODI matches that are playing on TV 365 days a year, nor those IPL matches that people keep betting on.

I am distracted and slightly interested.

This is the most important ‘The World Cup’ match (I am told) and I learn about it only after I see the excitement in everybody’s faces when they talk about that war-like-match between India/Pakistan. Whenever Indians talk about Pakistan, their antenna always shoots upwards into the nether zones, there is some kind of love-hate relationship between these enstranged neighbors which is never going to be resolved. Everybody was talking about this match, so I googled a bit but the real tutorials came from some kids in my building who updated me about it during my evening walks, they educated me on its importance for India, and then there was also TV, Twitter, social media, all breathed cricket who spoke nothing but cricket and my interest had sowed its seed.

I learnt about the passion of cricket in India, when I saw the crowd outside every electronic store. Walking down the streets of Bandra, saw hundreds of people crowded around a store. "What can the matter be?" I wondered as I approached to investigate. I discovered that all were glued to the TV in the store watching a cricket match. "Oh dear!!! What a craze!!!"



On the day of ‘The World cup match’ my friends came over. (This was one more excuse to spend the Saturdays with my friends) We chatted, we played cards and watched the match munching on snacks and drinks. My cousins were in contact with me on Blackberry and their conversation/ comments added zing to our party. At regular intervals they forwarded the messages which I would share with my friends at home. This was an added advantage as a stress buster (not for me, but for my friends).

The current Cricket World Cup situation  between India versus Sri Lanka is this.... India (Ram) married World Cup (Sita) in 1983 and in 1996 SriLanka (Raavan) took away Sita (WoldCup). Now after 14 years of Vanvaas, they meet again and you know the results..! One of the forwards posted on my BB
But the stress was there throughout the game, my friend who is a cricket fan didn’t want to see the match till it was ‘safe to watch’, she wanted the game to end before the 50-overs, saying - "playing till the last ball is very stressful". She cursed the players who got out and cheered the ones who scored well. “Hit four! Hit four!” she kept scolding the cricketers, showing her fist to the TV whenever there was no score. When the wickets fell, she covered her face with regrets.

After eight hours of viewing this match, finally there was ‘The Six-er’ a brownie point that spelled ‘Victory’. There was hugging sessions in my room, with my friends laughing loudly, congratulating each other. We watched, we celebrated with billions of images with equal euphoria and merriment.

We decided that it would be fun to go to Carter road for the celebration, we dressed up to go to a coffee shop by the sea-shore and was surprised to see that there was a midnight party in every lane, with sweetest traffic jam and the processions of dancers and singers, all waving India flag, screaming and hooting till their throat crackled. There were small children, old people, young and middle-age, all came out of their homes to be on the streets, to greet each other, to see and to be seen.

Everybody had Indian flag to wave showing their National pride in their victory


All the people were seen sitting on the bonnet, n the roof and on their car windows with their body protuding out from the window (there were some serious accidents too I learnt abour it later)


Some people were quite creative, painted their faces and body to show their happiness.Those people expert in body-painting had world cup painted on their backs, they drove through lanes of Bandra on a scooty, congratulating each other.



This was one big street party and this was day they didn't complain of being stuck in a traffic jam



Yes I was glad that my interest had been aroused and I understood what this excitement was all about. I celebrated the victory with the cup of vanilla crush........ Jai Ho!!

Thursday 24 March 2011

Papas Bonitas

When in Tenerife, Spain, ‘Papa Bonitas’ is the tapa that I have always enjoyed. This is the potato snack served in bars. With a small dainty toothpick, you pick up the small potato and dip into the spicy ‘Mojo’ and munch it slowly savouring the hot and sour taste.



How to make ‘Papas Bonitas’

You take 1 kilo of small round potatoes, prick them with fork and boil them in 2 glasses of water and 6 tablespoons of rock salt. Discard the water.

How to make ‘Mojo’

You have to grind together 1 big green capsicum, 10 green chillies, and 10-12 pods of garlic to make coarse paste. Add 1 teaspoon salt and 1 tablespoon lime juice. For extra flavor, I add herbs like basil leaves and  spice powder.Heat 4 tablespoons of mustard oil and pour the steaming oil over the coarse paste.

While you enjoy your drinks, dip the boiled, salted potato in the mojo and masticate on pungent taste. When you are not concentrating on the conversation, it is natural. The snack is too distracting and tasty too.

ps: I used Snapin's Basil Flakes and Marks&Spencer's Mixed Spice

Friday 18 March 2011

The week that was……mid March 2011 and my 'FB Status'

Much too much happened during this week, a fierce earthquake that ruined the town of sushi and whales and bombed their proud nuclear plants. Many lives were lost, houses crumbling like match boxes, sea animals suffered too. It didn’t affect me, because I have no one in Japan whose pain I could feel…

You would think that life in Japan came to standstill?. Nah! There you are wrong! It affected few people who lived near the shores, but for others life went on as usual.

I continued to update what was on my mind at FB status regularly. “Life goes on if it doesn't affect us....sensitive are those who ponder over solutions and meditate on how they could help and act accordingly without any expectations for recognitions”. I wrote.

Those who have powers to help were extending their support and if Starbucks was in India, I would have happily had few extra cups of coffee too.

But how could I have helped? I have always been afraid of earthquake and my fear is deep rooted. The fear was instilled in me when earthquake happened during my school days. The earth shook slightly, all children ran down the stair, shouting, screaming, some of them sliding down the railings, some rushing and pushing past me. I had missed my step and had fallen down on my knees, nobody cared nor saw me curled up on floor, they just ran amok in all directions, few children had walked over me, their shoes piercing through my ribs, the pain was intense at that time, my body ached, but I was too proud to cry. I sat still, curled up, till all the children had walked away towards the open ground. Senior nun had helped me walk and join the crowd. Nothing much happened after the earthquake (not that I know of) but the screams and fear had coated me with this emotion of fear, I was not afraid of earthquake but I was afraid of falling down once again and people walking over me,. “For many days after that, I tied my little finger to my mom’s pallu and followed her wherever she went”. wrote I on my FB status remembering that incident. It was the security I felt being close to my mom. Every time mom went to loo, she untied my finger, but I continued to wait outside, waited to hold on to her pallu again.

Now as I sit here, I feel the same fear for those children who will know the pain the first time, although I have not yet seen any pitiful faces of Japanese people. World is awed by nation’s quiet dignity.
"Yet, it is also the response of the Japanese to catastrophe, told to us in shards of stories of shared blankets, patient calm and decorous lines of waiting people, that has stirred us.


A petrol pump attendant apologises profusely for not having fuel to long waiting lines of motorists where no one cuts in or bellows in frustrated anger. Those in food queues take just enough so as to leave some for others. In everyday life this is nice, in distress it is astonishing."
Had it happened in India, we would see everybody breast beating, self-pitying “Why us?” cries openly on all TV channels. “Shame: an ornament of virtue to remain within boundaries, without which one stands bare of all its glory” was my FB status to express that feeling.

After the earthquake, many NRIs returned to India. Why didn’t they stay back and help the people in the best of their ability and show their moral support for people in need? Why run back to India? “How far can we run away from our problems? They have this cunning habit of clinging to us and following us wherever we go. It is only when we stand still, face it, snarl back, catch it by its tail and dust them off, that they decide to walk away...” said my FB status..

Life goes on…There is more political drama back home…but then that is another story.

Till then FB status continues to wonder what's on my mind “The little terrorists are back again with their fiercely looking water guns”…holi hai!!!

Featured post

The Year That It Was - 2015

I have poor memory therefore I tend to forget the good and the bad times easily. What is past is forgotten, each day I try my best that my ...

"I shall seize the fate by its throat....

"I shall seize the fate by its throat....
"I shall seize the fate by its throat....It shall certainly not bend nor crush me completely"

Out of Box

LinkWithin

Related Posts with Thumbnails