Passing the parcel

Although my birthday was last month, but it never ends till all my friends have wished me, so today, another set of friends (just eight) came over for lunch to enjoy the belated party.


Now eight is a big number for a private party and I don’t like to leave anybody out of conversation so I decided to have some games to get everybody involved. After the delicious lunch of Veg Briyani, Samosas, bhajiyas and Raita followed by chocolate ice-cream, we started the normal game of bingo for warm up and almost everybody received a small gift for their participation as the play progressed from jaldifive to 3 lines to full house.

Next we started to play the interesting game of passing the parcel. When we were kids, game of passing the parcel was all time favorite where we had punishments which would be quite entertaining with something like ’sing a song’ or imitate so-n-so, or some other childish punishment which sometimes would be quite an embarrassment. But today these kinds of punishments were not on my mind. I wanted to do something innovative.

So I made list of six topics for discussion as punishments where in I put the question and the person was asked to express her views. Following questions were asked:

Q1: As we all know that Imran is a gay icon- how will our community behave if they start exposing gays. Do you think that older generation will be able to accept this fact? What kind of conversation will the people be having during discussion of latest trend of our youth?

Q2 Do you feel suicidal sometimes? What things irritate you the most and you get this kind of feeling that the world is not worth living in?

Q3 Do you think media is responsible today? If you were a reporter what would be your first priority of reportage?

Q4 You know your friends are not paying attention to their health. You want to help them but you also know that she/he is not likely to follow your advice. What strong words would you use to bring home the message?

Q5Do you believe in idol worship and blind faith? If someday, you became a spiritual guide, what kind of preaching would you do to explain the existence of Supreme Being?

Q6 How responsible is our Indian Cinema? If you were given chance to make a film, what kind of movie will you make? What important message would you give in your films and whom would you cast in the film?

There was heavy discussion on every topic and there were difference of opinions too. The fun part of this game was that one person spoke while the rest listened carefully and gave their feedback and there was some healthy conversation. Normally, the shy ones never get chance to speak and they are left out from conversation. This way, everybody was participating.

The discussions went on till tea-time after which we all headed to Baidas Hall, Vile Parle, to hear the Vedanta lecture on ‘Happiness’ by Jaya Row.

Today I am in a phunny mood!

During my last visit to China, I noticed that nobody smiled and I was thinking are they stressed out? All had tight lips sealed from corner to corner, not a curve anywhere, as if their lips were glued in position and were afraid of some kind of punishment if they dared to smile.

So you would think there is no humor in china

There! You are wrong again.

They have fantastic sense of humor only they don’t see it

But they truly have phunny translator who do justice to our language

Justice to English?

Well! why not?

Have you travelled by bus in China? No?

Then next time you visit China, please do travel by bus and if you are lucky you will be travelling in the same bus as I did, which had this threatening note just above the dashboard.

The bus is running? and I am not supposed to spam seats? How do we spam seats? Mess around? Oh never mind…..

Sitting in stable?…..er..stable? ....I am reminded of horses….

Never spreading arms and body? How do we spread our body outside the window?

I might try to..but my size is not as thin as Chinese size. .maybe they use window to exit from the bus? Er?

Going up and taking off?? Is there some short cut to heaven?

It was my first day in China, first ride and the humor had just begun

I did enjoy my stay in China…the humor was behind those closed lips...humor zipped behind those lips..hahaha.... Lucky lips!

Fake notes are doing their rounds in ATM machines in Mumbai

and you can do nothing about it. Talk about trusting your bank? Well… that trust goes down the drain.

No bank will ever take any responsibility for the bank notes that are circulating from their ATM machines. If you have a fake note in your pocket, too bad! It’s your bad luck! Sigh!!

Today early morning, in a hurry to pay my web designer a fee of Rs5000, I rushed to the nearest ATM cabin, which is just outside the Bank of India, opposite National college, and extracted the money from the ATM machine.

But my web designer is smart lady, (maybe she has lots of time on hand, or maybe she had been cheated once, because she has made a study of each note and could distinguish the fake note in a jiffy). She checked each note before taking it from me.. and Lo! Behold! One of the one-thousand-rupee-notes was a fake note.

“This note I cannot take, it’s fake note” she said

“But, Maam, I have just removed this from ATM machine this morning, how can it be a fake note?” I said.

And she started to educate me.

She held the note up against the light and looking closely, she said, “Array baba, see the watermark na…this watermark on the empty portion on the left side of the note? Can you see that? One should be able to see a portrait of Mahatma Gandhi in this space, along with multi-directional lines and an electrolyte mark showing the denominational numeral, see, there is no 1000 numeration mark here.”

I looked at her with blank look

She took out the authentic note from her cash box and told me to look closely, “Can you see 1000 numerals in this corner?”

serial no 2BD 579808 is a fake note

At first I couldn’t see anything nor distinguish it but when I held it against the light, I was able to see the numerals. Then she gave me the fake note and showed me the difference. Sure enough, those numerals were missing.

‘Hmmmn” I said

She held the note at eye-level and said, “Look into the gap between the vertical band on the right and the portrait of Mahatma Gandhi. In genuine notes, one should be able to see the word RBI and the denominational numeral in this space.”

True, transparent numerals '1000' were not visible in fake note.

“Now see the micro-lettering too,” she continued “Hold the note up against light. On the left of the portrait and half down the vertical band on the side, one can see a floral design, which appears hollow on the front side and filled up on the opposite side. The denominational numeral can be seen as a whole in this floral design, though the half of the numeral is printed on one side and the other half on the opposite side.”

“Even the visually impaired person can identify the fake note.” She said, stressing her point on ‘visually impaired’, “Look below the floral design. One can see a dark patch in intaglio print (raised print). The shape of the intaglio print varies according to the denomination of the note. Did you know that there are different shapes for various denominations? There are vertical rectangle on Rs20 note, Rs50 - square, Rs100 - triangle, Rs500 - circle and Rs1,000 – diamond.”

I had never known that. My interest was deepening and I wanted to know more about it.

I listened with rapt attention as she told me about other features that appear in intaglio print like: Seal of the RBI, the guarantee and the promise clause, RBI Governor's signature, the Ashoka pillar emblem, and Mahatma Gandhi portrait, all of them had a raised effect.

Even the color of the numeral changed from green (when I held the note flat) to blue (when at an angle).

She then, pointed to the security thread on the note and said, “Look at this line here, this is a security thread. It is 1.4 mm wide. It appears in breaks on the front of the original note. However, from the back, it looks like a complete line. The words RBI and Bharat (in the Devanagari script) is inscribed on it. It appears yellow in ultra-violet (UV) light. This thread will not glow if it is a fake note. Continuity of the security thread is not maintained if it is a fake note.”

I saw the green glow on the real note. Wow!

I kept comparing the fake note with authentic note, seeing the difference for the first time. I had never ever held a fake note but today, I wanted to know everything about it.

“Now let me tell you what features one can see in UV light?” she said, as she took both the notes in her hand. Then she went on to explain to me about how the optical fibers on the bank note make themselves visible when held under ultraviolet light. (In case of a fake note, optical fibers are less in number), the year of printing of the original note is visible in the middle and the reverse side near the bottom, and how it has that unique feel and a crackling sound.

I felt cheated.

I took the fake note to the ‘Bank of India’ Khar, and I was directed to speak to the manager.

From the look on his face, I knew at once that it would be the waste of my time. Firstly, he did not believe me nor acknowledge it and I had to show him the receipt of the proof to convince him that the transaction was done from ATM outside his bank. He argued and I threatened to report it to the media. He got defensive and played the blame game, saying that ATM was not in his control that I must contact ‘Brink Arya India Pvt. Ltd’, a cash handling and secure logistics company and they are the ones who load all the cash in all ATM machine in Mumbai. He told me to search the details about this company online, and then post the complain note with photocopy of receipt of transaction and the fake note.

“Sorry I can do nothing about it” he said seeing my disappointed look. “Now-a-days, who can distinguish the real one from fake one?” he said “Tell me one thing, what makes you say that this note is fake?”

Now it was my turn to educate him. Whether he knew the difference or not, he did listen to me while I explained to him the difference. He expressed his helplessness at not having any control on this aspect, “There are so many notes out there in circulation, how can one have time to separate each one?” He asked.

True.

I am left thinking what can one do about it? Nothing? I can afford to fold this one-thousand-rupee-note into eight folds, tuck it away and move on but what about those who find it difficult to earn a decent living? One thousand rupees is a lot of money to them, can they let it go?

Duplicate currency is manufactured in Pakistan and Bangladesh. The fake notes are brought into India through Nepal by Pakistan's ISI and other terrorist groups. The amount of fake Indian currency in existence today is huge. According to one national daily, in UP alone over Rs40 crores is estimated to be in circulation. This might be the tip of the iceberg. The fake notes generate easy money for terrorists which use it for antisocial activities.

How will this racket stop? How will they separate fake from authentic? Is there really nothing that we can do about it???

I am not very sure that I live in a secured world! As long as terrorists and criminals will keep on manufacturing such notes very intelligently, there is no hope! Nor any help!! Sigh!!

Grocery store at street corner

A grocery store in India

I grew up in Sion, a suburb of Mumbai. My granny used to send me for small errands down stairs to a grocery store. During those days, there were no supermarkets or malls in Mumbai and we could do all the stopping from small stores down the streets. There was a small grocery store at the corner of the lane. I often went there to buy sweets that were kept in a large jar. There would be several jars containing sweets of different shapes, colors and sizes. I would pop few sweets into my mouth before giving the shop assistant the list of items that my granny wrote on a piece of paper. This store would be quite messy and was always cluttered with various items, some of them strewn on the floor. There would be sacks containing pulses, rice, dried red chilies, wheat, etc, filled to the brim, some of them overflowing. There would be no path to walk into the store. The shelves, lined on all three sides of the store, would be full of other packed or bottled food that would reach up to ceiling.

The shop owner would sit at the cashier giving directions to his helpers. The assistant would read the list, bring out the things and weigh it in front of me. He would then pack it in a paper bag and tie it with a twine and keep it on the counter. There were no plastic bags in those days and I always carried a cloth bag with me whenever I went to buy the grocery. The shop owner, an old man dressed in loose white kurta-pajama and a Gandhi cap, would then write out the price of each item on a piece of paper, do a mental addition and charge for the same. Calculators had not yet made their invention and everybody knew their proper mental mathematics, right from addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. Everybody knew their sums. I knew it too. That was years ago.

Today, after many years, I went back to that store. Yes! The grocery store is still there at that same corner, but the shop looks bigger. The shop owner sitting at the cashier was a young guy with a long hair tied into a pony-tail, maybe his grandson. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt making a statement. The shop was neater with things categorically placed. I went around picking up the things that I wanted and placed the stuff at his counter. He used calculator for addition/subtraction, did not waste time honing his mental mathematical skills. He asked me if I would be interesting in buying new products that were available at his store. I asked me to explain what he had and he introduced me to new health products that were available, the power snacks that had little oil, the dips made at home, the drinks that were organic and before I knew, I had bought many more things than what I had intended to.

For packing my stuff he had no plastic bag but he suggested I buy a cloth bag from him for Rs4 which he would refund if I gave the bag back to him. I bought the bag too, but it is so impressive that I may not return the bag and get the refund. Maybe that guy knew it too.

Now that is called business tactics!!

‘My Sins against Gender-Stereotypes’

I saw this tag ‘Sin against Gender Stereotypes’ on the pages of several bloggers and secretly learnt about likes/dislikes of many blogger- friends, but waited patiently for a formal invitation, I am not a gate-crasher and therefore never make any entry till I am invited….and when Pallavi tagged me, I, most happily, cleared my throat…..cough, cough…to speak….so here I go….

I used to be a girlie-gurl once upon a time, a shy, reserved, timid, invisible till I grew up to discover that I am a human too and not a show-piece and am allowed to have a mind of my own. I realized that if one likes something, one does not think of gender, but is led by the instinct of doing what one feels is right with clear conscious and doing it in the best way that one can…..and so the freedom of expression was born in me and I learnt to live.

 NOW if I… feel like doing something..I will do it.. I need no permission, nor any public approval nor any gender margins to do what I please:

1.  I like male-talks better than girlish-chat..I hate talking abt maids, children, kitty parties, prefer to talk biz, money, investments or lifestyle trends..
2.  I like humor and also PJs, ragging, sharing anecdotes and will stay up late nights to chill with friends
3. TV..nah…no more… .once upon a time I was a couch potato, knew all the TV personalities by their first name, their problems, their relationships on screen, could discuss the soap/serial characters as if they were family members.. until the computers and web 2.0 took over my life, now I am glued to the virtual world. Can't detox because my virtual friends live there and I love to meet them everyday.
4. Cannot cope up with high class designers labels nor able to afford the extravagant life-styles of my Sindhi community, so have got over the fetishism over fancy, loud clothes and diamonds and have reverted to simple clothing and unreal jewelry.
5. Would prefer walks by the sea-shores rather than imprison myself over three hour of torture inside a cinema hall munching over unhygienic samosas and stale popcorns. Nevertheless, I do go for a film if others want me to go with them.
6.  Prefer home cooked food over the restaurant food. Have difficulty in swallowing white moldy parathas that contains sticky oils and the over-cooked veggies that contain too much of random spice powders.
7. Sleeping late, waking up late makes me miss some important dates.
8. Can repair everything, radios, clocks, lights, iron, electronic gadgets, plumbing, zips and even broken umbrellas and shoes and bags.
9.  Can read and understand the manuals, never use anything without reading the manual, will not sign anything till I have read all the fine print, will not believe anything unless I have heard, seen and witnessed it.
10.  Find it difficult to say ‘NO’ to anybody seeking favor, love kids and old people and will always try to make things easier for the weak.

And now to tag……umph…er..my friends…whom I truly want to know their sins….

My friend has threatened me with a curse to wear blue pants (since I am a woman) and it was pink shirts if I were to tag a man – for next twelve years if I did not compile this list and now, after having done my bit, I pass on this curse to you UNLESS you list at least ten things you have ever wanted or done which your gender is not supposed to.

The tag is called ‘My Sins against Gender-Stereotypes’. And you must tag twelve blogging friends or else you will be ….. er…what was that you said, Pallavi??? So get going gals....

Hiyaa Israni
Ani
Vimmi Jaggi
Mayuri Sharrma
Pragya
Alakaline
Suniti Joshi
Darpana
Ratna Rajaiah
Sangeeta Patni
Gayatri
Jhumur
Laxmi
Natasha Sinha
Baisali Chatterji
Soma ghosh

And like I whispered to you earlier, I now repeat 'khule aam'
"Sweets things r easy to buy but sweet ppl difficult to find, life ends when u stop caring, friendship ends when u stop sharing….."

so taking few liberties, I tagged u in my note hoping that you accept my tag and tell me things that I wish to know…..because I am confident that u r my friend….hugz 

Water; water everywhere…what’s a big fuss?

Why do my NRI relatives and friends make such a big fuss over consumption of water? They grumble if they see a leaking tap. They need a warm shower bath to clean their body. They need spacious bathroom. They won’t drink boiled or filtered 'Aquaguard' water. They want sealed bottles of a well known brand to stay healthy.

Are they so delicate?

In India, people take water for granted. If there be a water tap in the middle of the road, you might find somebody taking the opportunity of washing clothes and or taking bath in the most spacious open area, unmindful of the moving traffic or dusty and filthy streets and some thirsty passerby may even be brave enough to stretch his empty bottle for a potable refill.

It happens only in India.

Accept me as I am.

Inspired by Blogadda to enter this competition “What Women Want”

source: Google

There may be some women out there who are the angry lot, some aggressive, some wicked and some may even have some serious weapons to attack their man but they are not me. I am the woman in love; I will do anything to bring you into my world. But you should also care and love me back and accept me simply the way I am

I, as a woman want acceptance of being what I am, give me freedom to think. The only place where you trust me is in your kitchen, isn't it? You never enter my kitchen. You will eat whatever I cook because you are too lazy to cook for yourself. Yes I know, I am partly to be blamed for your laziness, I am crazy in love with you, I cater to your every demand, but sometimes you are impossible, especially on the days when the food does not live up to your standards. Please understand that I too have my moods, give me a break sometimes, and take me out to a restaurant on my bad days.

Allow me the liberty to handle the bank accounts too. I know to write the numbers in words from one to ten thousands of millions in text and yes all the spellings are perfectly right too, did you know that there is no alphabet ‘C’ in any of those numbers? And that letter ‘A’ appears first time in one thousand? Did you notice that alphabet ‘D’ appears first time in one hundred? And letter ‘B’ is not present in any numbers till you reach the billion? Well, I know it. I am clever, you must trust me. I have spend many hours in practicing my signature, but you never allow me to sign any check on my own. You are always lurking, breathing down my neck. You make me nervous, don't you see it? Whenever I make a payment more than a thousand, you go red, green and then deep blue. I know the value of money much better than you do, I can even handle the managerial job if you allowed me to, but you wont, not even when you know that I have spend many years studying and have a thick folders of degrees and awards.

I want some independence in deciding where I wish to go. Don’t ask me the hourly reports of my day, stop calling me four times a day and enquiring about my wherabouts and then repeating the same questions again at the end of the day to check whether my answers match. During the day I have lots of errands to do, I go to the market, temple, dentist, our child’s school, go to pay bills, visit the sick relative, chat with a friend on phone, kitty party, go for a evening walks, sometimes gym and many more things to do, and there are days when I prefer to sleep all day. It’s the luxury I enjoy after some sleepless nights when I keep awake because you were stressed. I don’t wish to give you my hourly itinerary. I am always at home before you reach home so tell me why are you so inquisitive? Don’t you trust me at all? Take that chain of your suspicious mind off my navel, I wish to be free.

I want you to pay attention to me, to hear me talk while I speak, to observe my shaped eyebrows, my new hair cut, my new dress, my funky shoes. I am disappointed when you are stuck-up like a couch potato while I am struggling with babies’ nappies, Help me sometimes with household chores and when relaxed, let me watch football match with you. Don't call your friends home and make a mess, my back aches lifting up those used cans and cigarette butts.

I want you to walk with me, matching your step with mine, on equal footing, when you go right I too will turn right but on your left why am I left behind?

I, like every other woman, wants to be accepted for what I am. Be closer to me but let me breathe, stand far away from me but not too far that even when I stretch you cannot be reached.

Love is the message and Pass this around……

Cloudy trip over Tiger Hills in Darjeeling

Our group leader said “Wake up early morning if you want to see the most spectacular sun rise, we need to leave for Tiger hills at 3am and it will take 2 hours to reach the point.”


“Why must we wake up so early to see the sun-rise, I never do in Mumbai.?” I argued. I refused to go; I am always too lazy to wake up so early in the morning. “I will see sun-rise from my room window, why must I go to this tiger hill?” I grumbled.

But when you are in your tourist boots, no reasoning helps. My friends refused to go without me and they made sure to wake up at 2am, since they know that I never leave to go anywhere without a bath, so I needed one hour to dress up.

So here I was, grumpy at 3am, walking through the mist of Darjeeling towards the mini bus with the rest of the group

My sleep disappeared as soon as the bus rumbled its wheel through the narrow and broken path on the hills of Darjeeling and the cool breeze softened my moods and I started to enjoy the ride, bringing out my camera to shoot the picture of the scenery outside my vehicle window in the early hours of the morning, not that I could see much, but playing with my camera is one of the activities that helps me keep alert.

Bad morning!! It was raining. At five am, when we reached the ‘Tiger hills’, it was cold and wet. I didn’t take umbrella and my friend obliged by sharing hers. I bought a hot cup of coffee, it was good and refreshing. It was quite breezy and cold. We couldn’t stand in the open space in such weather. We moved towards a building and walked up the steps to a large room.

There were more than hundred people inside a small room, many of them sitting on the plastic chair facing the cloudy sky behind the glass windows. It seemed like they were sitting in an auditorium waiting for some musical performance.

I had no idea of what spectacular sun rise was I to witness, but seeing the enthusiasm on people’s face, I was sure that it must be something not to be missed. I saw some children with same zest too. What was I complaining? These kids didn’t seem to mind and they were equally ignorant about this sun rise show like I was, but they were not grumpy. Some of the adult sensible ones dozed off while waiting for the event. I envy those who can snooze off in most uncomfortable positions at any hour of the day.

It was raining outside. My grumbling grew worse. Group of men sitting in front of me were chatting about stocks and marketing. Men can talk business at any hour of the day!! They all looked beyond window periodically, hoping for the sun rise. Who says women are noisy...men are equally irritating too. I was getting impatient. Too many people inside the small room. I was finding it difficult to breathe in this closed room with so much crowd.

It was 5am and no promised sunrise. The sun is known to be punctual and can never forget to rise, but what does one do when it goes off in hide-n-seek mode? How do I push these clouds that are heavy and pregnant? It started to drizzle again, rain drops trickled down the window panes blocking our view but people continued to wait.

5:30 am and people finally came back to their senses and started to move. I walk over to window, slid the window-pane and clicked the scene beyond the horizon.

Cloudy sky was all that I could see.

Soon I heard the voice of a man selling CD shouting, “Sorry, you could not see the sun rise but want to know what you missed, then buy the CD-.Darjeeling..a tourist spot.”

Indians are very enterprising, they can sell their wares from any dungeon places. Many people started buying the CD, my friend bought one too.

I decide that I shall not waste my money to see what I missed.

Nah! I shall google it when I get back home

Back home, I googled for the sun rise in Darjeeling..Oh Wow! I missed this!!!!

“The first rays of the sun shoot ahead and shed light upon the twin peaks of Kangchenjunga painting it pink and then bathing it in a beautiful orange colour. From Tiger Hill, Mount Everest (29,002') is just visible, peeping out through two other peaks standing by its side. Makalu (27,799') looks higher than Mt. Everest, owing to the curve in the horizon, as it is several miles closer than Everest. The distance in straight line from Tiger Hill to Everest is 107 miles.

On a clear day, Kurseong is visible to the south and in the distance, Teesta River, Mahanady River, Balasun River and Mechi River, meandering down to the south. Chumal Rhi mountain of Tibet, 84 miles away as the crow flies, looks like a great rounded mass over the snowy Chola Range. One comes face to face with this peak of superb beauty from Phari Jong which is 129 miles away from Darjeeling.

I cursed the weather

It had spoilt the most beautiful sight that I was supposed to witness… I have missed it. I will have to make one more trip to Darjeeling to experience this moment.

I go to the balcony of my room window in Mumbai and show the fist to the other part of the sky.

"Grrrrrh!" I yell

Destiny

Two days ago there was an auto strike in Mumbai, hike in petrol/diesel induced their demand for hike in auto fare. It paid off, the minimum fare of Rs9 shot up to Rs11, I smiled as I argued with the auto guy telling him, “So now auto fare in Mumbai hiked from Rs9 to Rs11, but I don't have one rupee change.. excuse me.. will you let it go??? You also didn't have it then...remember???? Now its my turn to bully you.....” and the guy said, “Kya kare maam, nahi hoga to nahi dena.” he waited till I found a coin to give it to him. But somehow I have always dug out a rupee coin to give them their change and will always try to collect one rupee coins so that I don’t give them less.

And now, as I wait for an auto-rickshaw, there seems to be scarcity of them. Fifteen minutes and no auto, either they are occupied or they are not in mood of taking me across. Silly men, why they refuse to take us, I fail to understand, aren’t they catering their service to our needs? I hate waiting on the middle of the road with a desperate look on my face, but some of them are so heartless, that they don’t feel sorry for my sad look.

Suddenly I see one auto halt in front of me, I wait for the people to pay their fare and I quickly sink in. I don’t want to give him a chance to refuse and I just order him to drive on. He looks at me through his mirror and asks me if I have waited for long.

I stare at his grey head and then meet his eyes in the mirror and say “You people all the same. You will go only where you want to go. Why do you drive an auto? It is better you buy a private vehicle and just give a lift to the people whom you like.”

He smiles and says he understands my anger.

“Truly, I don’t understand your bradhari of auto and taxi drivers!!” I continue.

He smiles and says “Maam, Seems like you are waiting for an auto for a long time. I can tell by the way you barged into my vehicle. How may auto drivers refused to take you? Huh? Ten?”

I nod my head and say, “Maybe ten.”

And he says, “Maybe you were in my destiny that’s why they all refused you. You were destined to sit in my auto.”

I don’t know what to say. Dumbstruck!!!

Destiny??? Wooooh!! I have heard about destiny in choosing a life partner and even a friend, a family, a job, lumpsum money, trip to unknown places, but this grey-haired-auto-driver, a two-minute-chum? I won't even remember his face if I see him again!!!

Was he really in my destiny? I had only two minutes ride in his auto and listened to his chat.

Some destiny there!!!! Hahaha!!

How they make perfect omelets

Do You know to make an omelet? Ask the professional to make it for you. Smart move!!

If you can read the pictures you may follow the procedure.

During my recent trip to Darjeeling, mornings I looked forward to ‘live’ breakfast…haahaha. That’s what the food counter said…’Live Breakfast’ and live was that chef would make for you the omelet the way you like…half fry-sunny side up or plain omelet. I would always ask for same omelet with lots of chillies and onions, although there was a great variety of food on display, I had no appetite to eat any other spicy, heavy stuff like puri bhaji, idli sambar, or any other delicacies so early in the mornings. Normally at home, my breakfast is just a glass of fresh juice. But since I was on holiday, and since I didn’t have to make the breakfast for myself, (yeah, I am too lazy sometimes) I was okay with having breakfast in the mornings. But everyday I stuck to the same menu: egg omelet, baked potatoes, salad and fresh juice; and that kept me cheerful till the lunch time.

While I ate, I couldn’t help looking at other tables and would be surprised with the amount of food that people could eat at every meal. Their plates would be overflowing with food and it got me thinking that must we abuse our stomach just because we have paid for a buffet meals??? Is it so important to taste every dish on display at every meal??? I would watch them help themselves with assorted meals second time, and sometimes third servings!!!

One of our friends in the group was a Jain, and her strict diet of ‘no root’ vegetable restricted her meals. She would order special meals for herself and while she waited for those special meals, she would start munching on bread, jam, sweet dish, fruits and everything that was permitted by her religion. When the food arrived, it would be of big quantity and although she would over eat, still most of it would go waste. At every meal, she would attract attention to herself and throw temper tantrums, (much to our embarrassment) if they didn’t provide her food on time.

I fail to understand why people give so much importance to food. For me, food is just a necessity to remain healthy. If chanced upon eating good food in a fancy restaurant, I might relish, but for me, simple home cooked meal is a delightful treat.

81 year-old-Sindhi Immigrant shares her story

I see her everyday sit by the window and greet every passerby. Her wrinkled face shows the lines of pain. Sita is eighty one years old and is quite happy to find a listener in me. She has many stories to tell and remembers them quite vividly. I sit cross legged, across her and try to listen to her. Her speech is not clear and many times I have to ask her to repeat to understand what she has to relate.

Sita Chatpar was eighteen years old when the partition took place. She remembers the day, when 500 Muslim sardars had barged into her aunts’ magnificent house but they were not able to spot them because all family was hiding under the beds. She talks about the time when curfew was imposed in the city and they sat in darkness fearing violence. On the day of exodus, she and thousands of other Sindhi families boarded the four-storey streamer, to escape the tortures back home. Conversion to Muslim religion was mandatory or else all those who chose to be Hindus had to leave the country. It took them four days to round the trip in the overcrowded streamer, they were off loaded at Mumbai docks and were accommodated at Sindhi refugee camps at military quarters, Kalyan. For three years, she stayed in inhuman condition, sharing the big hall, sub-divided by flimsy curtain. They shared one bathroom amongst fifty families. They were provided with food-ration and blankets. After three years, they moved to a rented house and she took up the job, first as toffee wrapper in a sweets factory and later in the Bajaj electrical company, assembling electrical parts till the company closed down. She , then moved into her married sister’s house to live the rest of her life, helping in the house-hold chores while her brother-in-law (doctor by profession) supported the family.

Life was not easy in Pakistan too. Having lost her father at a very early age, Sita could not pursue her studies after class seven as she was expected to contribute to house hold expenses. She and her six sisters, along with their mother and grand-ma worked during the day, machining, stitching clothes and gowns and other handicraft items which they later sold to the stores. But her face lights up when she talks fondly about Pakistan, where she spent her childhood. She remembers the wide and spotless roads that were cleaned with soap and water twice a day, the market places like ‘Mithidhar’, Kharodhar’, Zori bazar, Khato Sadar, Kagzi Bazar, etc. where she would take her merchandise to sell or go for shopping. She remembers the restaurant where they sold delicious cooked mutton, Tandoori rotis, bhajiyas and dahi wadas. She remembers the Sukhdev Haveli Mandir that she would visit on religious days. They celebrated all kinds of festivals like Holi, Diwali, satto, etc. On Rakhi days, a pandit would come to their house and tie rakhis to all the girls in the house.

The visit to a film was a luxury event done just once a year, there was no radio in the house, the women spend their time singing hymns at the temple where they assembled regularly. At the age of fourteen, her friends were married off to men thrice their age. But Sita never married and has worked to support herself all her life. Presently she lives with her niece and is well looked after.

When I asked her what advice she would give to the youth of today she said that one should not waste too much money on useless items and saving for the rainy day was very important, it is important to be educated in life and have some set goals.

Never leave the comfort of your own home and live a dependent life, she added.

PS: This post was written for “Beyond Sindh’ a tri-monthly magazine published from Hong Kong for which I write regularly. Beyond Sindh magazine delivers the latest topics of interest to the Sindhi Diasporas of today, covering our past, present and future.

Visit to Goddess Kali Temple in Kolkata

As soon as we got off the car, few pundits surrounded us, offering us their service by praying for us for a fee. What special way would they pray for me that Mata Kali would listen to them instead of direct communication with me? I shooed them away, preferring a direct interview with Goddess Kali.

There were narrow lanes leading to Kali temple. Every shop wanted us to deposit our foot-wear with them. I was not willing to walk bare foot down those lanes. There was too much dirt, filth, used flowers, junk and water at some places. I ignored all the shop keepers until I reached the entrance of the temple. Here was this lady selling big garland of flowers, holding in her hand like some heavy weight champion. I bought the garland from her for just Rs10 and deposited my foot wear with her.

Bare footed, I walked inside the temple, through the dirty path. My feet itched at every step. I could feel the crushing of flowers under my feet, the juice sticking under my soles, the floor was slippery and I held on to stone-wall for support, taking smaller steps, trying to maintain my balance. The garland was a bit too long and although I had folded it around my arm, it dangled under my knee. One flower-seller wanted me to buy some more flowers from him. He said that the flowers garland that I was carrying had touched the ground and that I needed to discard it. He kept repeating, telling me the Goddess Kali would be upset with my carelessness if I offered her ‘dirty’ flowers that had touched the ground, but I ignored him. I walked toward the idol and pundit grabbed the garland from my hand and held my arm. He pulled me in front of the idol and asked me to give some money. Why was he asking me for money? If I wanted to donate some cash, I would do so without anybody forcing me. I looked at the idol of Goddess Kali, a large black stone with large white eyes, surrounded by flowers and brocade, flashy clothes, I closed my eyes, looking for a image of my Lord within my mind and offered my silent prayers and suddenly I was pushed aside to make way for new devotees. The place was too crowded, sweat clinged to me and it felt as if the message was that if I was not willing to part with my money then it was better that I moved aside. Was Goddess Kali angry with me for not parting with my cash? In crowded place, I don’t normally open my purse. I reasoned out that Goddess Kali would understand and would not punish me for my stingy behavior. I walked with the guilt towards exit.

Guilt disturbed me. A thought lingered that the punishment would be severe. I was afraid. I prayed again. I turned back and walked to the sweet shop. I bought 100 grams pedas. I spoke to Goddess Kali telling her that I had spent the money by buying the sweets from a person who was trying to earn a living. I had given him the business of Rs20. Surely Goddess Kali should be happy with me. The Rs20 that I had not inserted into her charity box was instead put into box of the person who was working hard. I was being fair. Goddess Kali should be pleased with my intelligent spending.

Guilt free, I popped the pedas into my mouth, one by one.

Air trip from Mumbai to Kolkata

“Okay! Now move over, I need window seat”
“But you asked for aisle seat”
“Oh! I forgot, I wanted window seat actually”
“Hmmmn”
“You know you are not suppose to take pictures from airplane”
“Why?”
“For security reasons”
“But I am not a terrorist, I just clicked for remembrance”
“What remembrance? That you once travelled in an airplane?”
“Grrh! I have traveled hundreds of times; just want a birds eye view of Mumbai and Kolkata”
“On one condition”
“What?
“That you don’t talk after every picture that you take and irritate me”
“Fine, promise”
“Look, click that one”
“Okay!”
"Oh My God!Mumbai airport looks neat!
"Yeah! it does"

“Did you remove that one?”
“Yeah”
"Look! Look! Look! the river is there"
"Yep, I can see that"

“And that one”

“Yeah! I am clicking”
"Mumbai buildings look like matchboxes na"
"Yeah! they do"

“You have the correct angle? Huh?”
"yeah"
"Kolkata has so many trees"
"hmmn"

"Oh yeah we are landing, click, click, click, click na"
“Yep”

“Look there is Kolkata”
“I know, Ma!”

Finally, the trip was good...let me check the pictures please.
You are sometimes so clumsy, If I were not there ,you would remove all faltu pictures.

True! Sigh!

Fatal Ecstasy (55-er)

“Help me, please?”
She urged. Her monotone, consumed by desperation, twanged
“Give me some more.”
The spasms came again, she screamed
Loud shrill resonated.
Silence
He lay next to her still body, lust overpowering his contentment.
“I must buy some more of those pills”
He mumbled. Covetousness thundered again.
The wicked grin eclipsed his face.

What If?

What If

What if I unscrew that mystery box
To find your heart tied within
Could I pluck it
Keep it
Next to mine
And hear its soft upbeat rhythm

What if I touch your song of love
As it slips
Through my train of consciousness

Could I cuddle it closer
On cold winter nights
And find some moments of coziness

What if we heard them in chorus sing
Those bluebirds
Rhyming all the strings

Would we flutter our blinks
Like butterfly wings
Dancing in trance to melodious rings

A secret crush, no more you can be
Possible things
Don’t end in a dream

Your heart whispers closer
I for one
In love, I float in ecstasy

(c) Pushpee

Revisiting Tenerife

Last year, I went to visit my family in Tenerife, Canary Islands. I have lived in this island for more than 10 years, but after setting up my home in Mumbai, I visit Tenerife now as a tourist. It gives me pleasure to revisit those places where I have had some good memories and since I know every nook and corner of the city, I just go off on my own, visiting places of interest. It’s fun travelling by bus or tram, or just by foot and exploring the place behind my lens. I took many photographs this time and here I am glad to share my pictures at the Blogadda Travel Photos Competition where I can post only five of my favorite travel photos.

Mickey meets the kids

Tenerife is known for its fiestas and siestas. During my visit, there was this dance and drama festival in the town's public park and people dressed in Disney characters took part in the event, they walked down from the stage and interacted with the audience. Even though the elders knew the people behind the costume, they played along and showed excitement that matched the expressions of children. What I particularly like about this picture is the expression of awe and excitement on children’s faces.

Pinolere Craft Fair

I visited 'Pinolere Craft fair' in the Orotava valley. People dressed in cultural outfits were promoting their heritage and the culture to the tourist. Things made by Spanish craftsmen were on display that included handicraft, pottery, food and souvenir articles. I like the costumes of Tenerife and different suburbs have different costume although it might look the same to an outsider. Spanish are very proud of their culture; in fact, they have some festivals where you cannot even take part unless you are dressed as one. You have to rent out a costume to be able to participate in their traditional events of dance and drink. What I like about this picture is the scene they had created, displaying a typical Spanish rural village with women sitting and chatting after their day chores are done.

Youngsters play at the beach

On the day I visited the San Andres Beach, at Santa Cruz, it was a sunny day. Tenerife has beaches everywhere around the island, some have black sand, some grey and this particular beach had silver white sand that is imported from neighboring island, Lanzarote. I did not swim that day, I just soaked my feet and then came back to rest under tree (yes, there are trees planted at the beach for people to sit under its shade). My nephew stretched out on the sand, sun-bathing while his sister sat next to him, covering him with sand. What I like about this picture is the force of sand as it slips down her fingers.

Day out at Pueblo Chicco

My family and I visited Pueblo Chicco which is closer to Puerto de la Cruz. This is a curious and interesting place. Pueblo Chico is the theme park in Orotava that has all the monuments and important places of interest of Canary Islands designed in miniatures. Attention has been paid to all the details of the actual monuments around the city to build its replicas in miniatures. To give the correct perception of the miniature town that looked so real with building and cars, I asked my family members to stand behind this miniature architecture. What I like about this picture is the intelligence I have used while clicking this picture to show the actual size of the miniature town.

Antique Car Show

One early morning, my brother asked me to come to the store to see the antique car show. I dressed up and went as soon as I could and was amazed to see the row of about 40 cars in the lane outside my store. The cars were in good condition and each car had it own unique features. I went crazy walking up and down the cobbled street, peeping into every car through glass window to see inside of the car and I was not the only one, everybody was doing the same. The otherwise sleepy town had residents walking down this street, some seating on the corner coffee shop and my brother was happy with business he made on that day. What I liked about this picture was this woman who couldn’t stop admiring the car and she went all around the car several times watching it from every angle

There are many more pictures that are equally interesting, but these five were my favorite. I wish to thank Blogada and Pringoo for giving me an opportunity to share my joy.

A day out with children at Prithvis cafe bar

Children looked at me shyly when I smiled at them. I approached them with a mike in my hand asking them to speak to me. I could hear myself loud and clear. Four of them stood with their backs rested against the glass cover of a pastry stand, all facing me with a twinkle in their eyes. Pastry and cakes forgotten, hunger paused. It seemed like they wanted to say something but stage fright held them back, they looked at each other, rolling their eyes, pursing their lips, each of them waiting for their friend to speak.

The first word was difficult to extract and I invented different questions to break the spell. What is your name? What did you do today? Do you know to sing? Do you know any poem? What is your friend’s name and finally asking the child his friend’s name did the trick. One child introduced his friend telling me that his friend was very talented and knew lots of riddles. “Say na, say”, he cajoled his friend. And she spoke, hesitating at first, faltering at every word. When I handed her the mike, she was confident. She spoke with pride, relating the story she had read some days back, her friends listened carefully, nudging her when she erred and later filled in the missing lines. Their fear fizzled out in thin air, shyness wrapped and put away, their muse emerged and all started to talk at once, louder each time, hoping to be heard.

Soon every child wanted his moment of two minutes fame.

‘Bloggers Premier League’ contest

I signed up for contest at BPL ‘Bloggers Premier League’, just out of curiosity. Didn’t know what I was getting into. Earlier I had participated in Blog-a-ton and had submitted few posts there, so I assumed that this would be something similar with group of bloggers in one team writing on the same subject. What I didn’t speculate was that there would be inter-action and we would be planning the content before blogging together and this is what made this interesting


The BPL was divided into six different teams of 10 members each. The names and logo were assigned to each team and with tentative shuffling I fell into ‘Inscribe Tribe’. I didn’t know any member of my team therefore I started visiting the blogs of the team members to get the gist of their writing. Before the actual event we were asked to make a post which wouldn’t be rated as a form of introduction. It said:

“Why not start with some serious fun before settling seriously in to the contest groove. Well That, My dears, you are going to do it yourself! Yes! How about an intro sort of thing with a little bit of self promotion of you and your blogs and a pep talk? Sort of sales pitch? An ad?! Oh no! There will be no marks for these, just pure fun. Just for the purpose of getting to know each other and also sort of warm up, before the real contests. Pure imagination and mischief … but with a small precondition (or rather two), to test your imagination and make it more fun. And ya you get free back links too! It has to be in a skit form or script form, the characters being yourselves .The post will be a single post representing the team. Meaning all of you get to crack your brains over it as a team”

Single post representing the team?, hmmn!! That would mean that we needed to network and discuss amongst each other to write one post. A private group was created on Face Book whereby every member was the administrator and we could post messages and pictures without outsiders peeping into our folders. So much secrecy!! For live discussion, we chose Gtalk. The timing for meeting was scheduled and then would begin our live chat to discuss what we plan to write.

Now my Gtalk was acting funny and I could not connect with other members. I checked into FB private group and started introducing myself while other three members were already chatting amongst themselves. I didn’t know how to get in touch with the rest of the group and I kept writing messages on the FB wall and chatting away at FB as if in mid air, introducing myself with imaginary crowd listening to me…and these people were busy chatting amongst themselves and devising the way to contact me but didn’t know how and I started screaming,”Is anyone there? By Sunday u have to submit the script, but still we have not even stepped on first talk, okay ,loooks like we are all looooooooosers” and immediately, like rescue operators in helicopter, they came, asking my gmail and sending voices and posting messages on my FB wall and suddenly, the messages started popping up on my screen….and before I knew, I was inside the Gtalk, air lifted by these rescue operators and I could read their Live chat.

It was fun chatting with them. We were just four of us and we started planning the skit, wanting it to be a humor piece. We discussed different options and then decided that each of us would write a humorous skit and then select the best. We decided to meet the next day at 4pm. I wrote down the skit after checking out from live chat and working late till 3am. I finished and sent in my skit to the group.

Next day, when we met again, only Diman and I were at Gtalk at 4pm and we started discussing my skit. Soon others joined in, one by one, they all came, as and when they could and gradually everybody started adding flesh to the skit, each one contributing his/her part and the live chat was on till 10pm. The graphic was organized by one team member while writing and putting together by another member, dialogues by another member and content by another. Everybody contributed to the skit. The live conversation was saved and sent to all the members who had missed the conversations and the final draft was written by one of the members at night. It was a great team effort and everybody contributed willingly and finally when the final skit was posted it displayed the creditability of team effort.

The polished post finally appeared on time HERE

Now that is what I would call a true team spirit. It’s a great team where everybody makes enough space for others to express their opinion before taking the final decisions.

At a book Launch

When I had recieved the invitation from Annie Zaidi for her book launch I had decided not to attend if it was not in the suburbs. I have a book store in Bandra and I could always buy a book for me and get it autographed by her. To go all the way to Palledium mall, twenty-five minutes away by Taxi, back and forth would cut a hole into my pocket, doubling the price of the book. Moreover, I have decided some time back that I will not go to south Mumbai too often. There is too much traffic on the road and with the cocktail of heat and dust, it really wears me out.

Few weeks before the book launch of ‘Known Turf: Bantering with Bandits and Other True Tales' I had spend some time with Annie and she had visually tranported me  to the hardship and courage she endured during reportage of dangerous events and how she had taken the effort to actually go out to those rural areas and report the stories of humble folk, who were tortured by hunger, social discriminations of caste and sex, therefore knowing Annie’s launch might be interesting, I decided to attend this one and I was glad I did.

Normally, I see ten to fifteen people for book launch, but this one had more than hundred attendees, some of them standing for two full hours, all listening with rapt attention about her writing style, her sensitivity and courage and in general , responsible writing on rural issues. It was one of the most informative book launches that I had attended. I was inspired to write one of my own and my mind drifted to various issues that I could write too. Maybe, I need to meet up with Annie once again and ask for her guidance.

After the discussion, I rushed over to the book-shelf to pick up my copy. The books were selling by dozens and had to be re-stocked. Everybody was impressed like I was. I saw many friends and acquaintance, writers whom I know closely, writers whom I have met briefly, but what do I speak to them during such brief moments? After getting my copy autographed I didn’t know what else to do? I am surprised at my own strange behavior, because on net, I chat and comment freely and am very friendly to every person on my friends’ list at Facebook, I have an opinion on almost every subject, I may even joke or tease my friends online but when I meet them offline in larger groups, I am switched off into my silent mode. Its not like those of my family and close friends groups where I have so much fun and our converstions never run dry. Here, in these groups, I just don’t know what to say. Seems like I have split personality, haha!!

Me thinking, what do people talk during such occasions? Do they Brag? Gossip? Complain? Ridicule? Or do they discuss books? Many of the people are normally there to look for publishers at these informal meetings and some may even be smart enough to strike a deal. That is, if the are lucky. These meetings are not like those social parties where we pass our time admiring the clothes and jewelry of other people, nor are there any drinks or snacks served that we can nibble on to pass the time and nor is there any music to soothe our nerves. I saw people stand in groups in smaller circles everywhere but I had no courage to include myself in any of those groups to make a bigger circle. Didn't see any warmth anywhere, or maybe I was cold. While I waited for my companion to get her copy autographed, I ventured out to study the magazine rack and wow! We have so many different magazines in India. There were magazines on every subject. Do people have time to read? There is so much information around us, magazines, books, movies, TV, computers, blogs, and social networks. Yet people are so ignorant. The basic understanding and compassion is missing and people are misguided. It pains me to see too much of ego floating around. Phew! I just surfed through the rack and came back looking for my friend.

Whether my friend wanted to hang around or not, I needed to get out as soon as I could so that I could start reading right away. Hello Annie…Me enjoying your book la!! If you are reading my blog, do accept my good wishes too.

Auto-jet-ride

Maybe they get thrills on Mumbai streets with continuous honking, vehicle flying, creeping through the smaller tunnel of traffic, going zigzag, but thud, my butt is three inches above the seat....that’s auto ride, phew!!!

Why do these auto drivers insist on giving roller coaster rides? Do I look the type who cannot afford to go to Disney world?

First of all they are so arrogant. They will go only where they want to go as if they are riding a private jet. I wait at the junction pleading them to take me to my destination, I even wait on the side of the road, in the direction where they are going so that they dont have to take any u-turn, but no, after the refusal from N number of drivers one finally agrees and if I am lucky, I might find one, who is a quiet one, who is just happy to steal innocent glances at me from his rear view mirror. But most of the time they are real badmash. Very, very meany. First of all, they sit cross-legged, riding with only one foot, as if they are sitting on a park bench and then their non-stop rant dotted with their agrressive spits at regular intervals, whole of my Mumbai city they have painted it with dark orange patches, some art galleries on the road there!!! If I complain then he may ask me to get off. I suffer silently. On quiet days, when I need to ruminate, and stitch my thoughts together, their chats are unnecessary diversions and I wish I could have walked instead.

At the end of the journey, I realize their motives of distracting me. They want to charge extra and think I won’t notice. Its funny they never seem to have a rupee coin. They always have two-rupee coin and are willing to give back my one-rupee coin only if I have a rupee to give them back. Most of the times I say ‘keep the change’ but then I feel cheated. Not that one-rupee coin will help buy me a future chalet, but he is cheating many more like me. Imagine if he is doing this trick all day long and on an average he has about fifty such passengers, so at the end of the month he has swallowed Rs1500 without a burp. Aisa thodi na hota hai. Whatever happened to the honest living? Jaane do, what is it for me? Living is expensive and they have to survive.

But, on a second thought, me thinking that would you feel cheated if he refuses to give back the change or am I being unreasonable and sweating over a small stuff??

Joggers' Park at Bandra

Most of the evening I am lazy, I normally sit with a cup of tea in my balcony, watching the sunset, nibbling away on some snack, listening to radio and dreaming of something that I wouldn’t discuss with anyone, not even with my best friend.


But on those days, when I happen to look in the mirror and see my protruding tummy groan at me, I shy away from my image and walk downstairs and circle around my building several times. Many a times I meet my friends who will then get adventurous and suggest a walk by the seashore or at the beach. The Juhu beach, or the promenades of Carter Road and Bandstand are all just auto-ride away and it always turns out a better option and I always return home refreshed and in good humor.

Of all the places, I like Joggers park at Bandra the best. We spend about twenty minutes walking on the sandy path, then go to the birdy area to meditate on birds, and finally settle on the seats facing the sea and watch the sunset. On our way home, we have a warm soup sold from a mobile shop and return in time to watch the late night TV shows.

Birthday Cake

I have never ever cut a cake for my birthday in my life. It’s the thing that I would hate to do, actually it is quite embarrassing for me to do, I have always asked a child standing next to me to cut it for me. But I love baking and decorating cakes. I have decorated cakes with creams, fruits, chocolates and they have always been traditional round or square in shape. Sometimes I have tried few innovative kinds like 2-tier or 3- tier and sometime chopped them into different shapes before icing. But I have always baked them for kids,

But now the kids have grown up and they are no more amused by simple shapes. I was surprised today when I saw this cake

Wow! A cake in the shape of boobs, covered with Bra and tits visible !!! hahaha!, and mind you, it is a vegetarian truffle chocolate cake, specially made for two taureans who are celebrating today. Oh why wasn’t I there to see their expressions, this is something I wouldn’t like to miss., I am sure that these boys who are going to cut these boobs will get naughty and for all we know, they might even enjoy a facial with this one.

Yes, I love cooking!!!

Cooking is quite easy; the only difficult part is preparing oneself to cook. It is unwillingness to walk up to kitchen, wean away from whatever you are doing, (for me to wean away from computer) and get down to serious work of chopping and mixing and rest of the work is done by gas or oven, nothing tiring at all if it doesn’t indulge in back-breaking job of preparing unhealthy fried snacks to go with the meals.

Once the mind is set up, it’s really no big deal to cook. Like today, actually yesterday, I decided that I will have roast chicken for lunch. So, the first part of planning the menu is taken care of. Sometimes, making decision about what to cook is the most difficult part. During planning the menu, we go crazy, asking the family members what they would like to eat and they too are unsure themselves and will quiz us back asking us what we have decided, and it goes like – ‘you tell, no you tell, no you tell’ and when you tell, they might exclaim ‘oh no, not that again’. It is frustrating especially if every member has a different taste. One of my friend cooks different meals for every member of the family, everyday, I marvel at her energy. Just as well, she has a cook to help her with the cooking. But for common person like me, it is difficult just planning the menu. Many times I will walk up to kitchen, open fridge several times, open, close, open, close, hoping that by doing so, suddenly one cooked dish might come alive. But it never does. I know some families who have fixed menus during the week. Mondays-dhal, Tuesday- bhindi, Wednesday-gavar, Thursday- chana, and so on.. There is no gap for creativity, for thinking of something new to make during week-days, creativity is saved for weekends when mind is free to think.

Since I had thought last night that I would make roast chicken today, I had washed and marinated the chicken last night with crushed garlic, ginger, chilies and chicken cubes.

Today afternoon, just one hour before cooking, I went to the kitchen, cut vegetables like cauliflower, tomatoes, bean sprouts, carrots and boiled potatoes and added to the marinated chicken, then added some assorted sauces like black bean sauce, soya sauce, chili sauce and fish sauce. Mixed it added little oil and baked it for an hour. The dish was delicious and nutritious and not a big deal cooking it. Eh?

Cooking is easy, and therefore we see variety of dishes at the table. When the woman is in the kitchen she realizes how little time it really takes to cook and that is why she gets so creative. While she waits for milk to boil, she will be chopping veggies. While the veggies are cooking, she will make few snacks: bajiyas or samosas, or something spicy. And once she gets into the mood, she will make pickles, papads, sweets and other delicacies. And you would think she is tired, but a woman who is thinking of those smiles which she might receive at the end of her labor from her family, will even go to an extend of making deserts and ice creams.

No, women are not lazy at all. The ready-made stuff that is easily available in the market nowadays has made her lethargic, but yes, I love cooking!

Mother's Day

Everybody was screaming on all social networks the wishes, the quotes, some digging into thier archives to find wishes for this day, many of them sendng wishes on the net to their mom who is sitting in the next room. Virtually mothers enjoyed gifts, cakes and even virtual hugs. The flowers were sent, gift bought for mothers who were not net-savvy, who were then treated for a lunch and movie.

Umarried, I have never biologically mothered any child but, I have seen many children grow, who have played in my lap, I have mothered them all, my sisters' brothers' cousins' kids  my eyes still look for those babies who are not there....lost into the adulthood

And I was surprised when I too recieve wishes from some of them and it was a good feeling.

Many years ago, when Mom and I were staying with my brother's family, my brother's kids were very attached to me. On mothers' day they bought gifts for their mother and my brother and I bought gifts for my mother. Since I was mother to none, I didn't recieve any gifts. My four-year-old nephew, was very upset that his dadima  and his mom recieved gifts and his aunt didn't recieve any, so he comes up to me and asks me, "When is the aunts' day coming? I want to buy a gift for you too."

Well aunt's day is still not celebrated anywhere, though they will still remain all time favorites. I used to love all my aunts and I still miss them long after they are not here anymore.

Aunt's love is the extention of mother's love but it needs a special day too. haha!

Mexican Delight

Last night I went to this Mexican restaurant that is recently opened in Bandra, just few minutes away from my house. The décor was good with wooden tables and chairs that reminded me of the restaurants in Tenerife. On one of the walls there was a big wooden shelf with hundreds of sauce bottles, not sure whether they were new bottles or used ones, but it made an impressive collage.

Before our order, they served us a basket of tortillas with two sauces, a bland pink and chilly green. Since it was a new restaurant, the hostess would come to our table to check our satisfaction meter. “Is it good? Yeah?” Now even if it is not good, we would not be too rude to say so, our Indian culture does not allow us to speak the truth to the person who asks so sweetly expecting a compliment. Anyway, we order chicken wings and fajitas. I like it and enjoyed it too. But the friends with whom I went had continuous negative commentary to make.

Although a Saturday night, there were very few clients, which is quite abnormal in the suburbs where people are seen crowding outside the restaurants, waiting for their turns. They were quite disappointed that they didn’t have to wait for the table and got one immediately on entering. They compared this restaurant to the ‘Hard Rock’ which is also a well known Mexican restaurant that has everything comparatively better, the servings, the taste, and the ambiences. While they ate, they talked about things that were wrong with this restaurant and not up to its standards. They debated that the restaurant would do well if it served liquor. The soft drinks were not good and had sprite added to the juice. But still, whenever the hostess came around for a feedback, their comment was always ‘very nice’ with thumbs up.

Well, since I have ever been to ‘Hard Rock’ I was quite content with this one, nevertheless I gulped meekly when they told me that it was very improper and unethical to serve Mexican sauces in steel utensils.

“It kills the taste, you know?” they said

My building going for redevelopment

I have been waiting for this day since last five years. Waiting for the day when all the members in my building will agree to redevelopment and I will get a lift to go up my house. My building is more than fifty years old and it needs regular repairs to keep in shape, also it is quite dirty and I am embarrassed when I get visitors. Whenever I saw new building crop up, I would wish the same for my building. But we had some stubborn neighbours who did not agree to redevelopment, and were always airing negative views, could see only problems associated with it but never the rewards. For five years I have tried to put forth my point that we need to live in a good and clean society.

Finally the day has arrived. All the members have finally agreed to go for redevelopment, we went for democratic voting to maintian transparency and the builder is also chosen, the Satguru builder, whose building I checked out and they are quite good. This means that we will get a bigger house about 33% more space, corpus money and two years rent. It does not mean that I will get richer with extra cash on rent and corpus money that I will recieve. Nah! thats not the case. With newer building, we will have more maintainance tax which will cover the extra help of more watchmen, cleaners and other taxes. The corpus money, if invested wisely, will help me cover those extra costs. While presently, I am paying only Rs20,000 anually, with new construction, I will be paying five folds. The rent that I will recieve, I hope to save, because when I come back, I will need to use that money for interior decoration. So the only benefit I get is one extra room, two lifts and a brand new building with gym, garden and party room.
Now I am in turmoil. Lot of things need to be done before I move out to a temporary accommodation. Packing is the biggest headache. Then I would like to sell off the old furniture because moving to a new house would mean new furniture, what to sell and what to keep is my biggest worry and where to store??. There are too many things in the house: furniture, doors, windows, grills, clothes, dishes, show pieces, books. My routine is about to get disrupted. Should I rent a house or should I travel for two years? Lead a gipsy life?

Even after I am back to a new house, I will have to renovate it to my taste. I will only have modular kitchen and bathrooms in the new house. But will need to make new furniture, paint the house and organize everything all over.

I am confused.

Sorry for using a word .....

....that you don’t understand, but Lexulous does and so does the scrabble. Try it.

Scrabble and Lexulous are the games that are played online, mainly on Facebook. I play it regularly usually as a detour from my regular task of reading and blogging. With strangers I don’t enjoy the game but I like playing with friends, with whom I can chitchat and keep in touch. I have made many good friends on scrabble board and on Lexulous and have been regularly in touch with them. Actually, these games allow many weird words that we will never find in our text books, the trick is to place your letters, sometimes guessing a word, hoping that lexulous or scrabble will understand and voila, sometimes it does. But if it is at the expense of annoying my friends, then that gets me really stressed out because I really hate losing friends. I have very few friends and all very precious, wouldn’t like them to go off at a tangent over a game, which is just a game.

For me winning/losing is not the criteria, I just like to make the best word that I can. I have been playing this game for many years, precisely for more than twenty-five years. The first time I saw this game was during my trip abroad and I was fascinated by tiny wooden tiles. I played that game immediately and lost miserably but fell in love with it. I bought my first scrabble board, a tiny travel board with tiny tiles and holes on the board to fix the tiles ( this board and tiles, neatly saved and restored, are still lying at my home in Tenerife, Spain, hibernating and they come alive only when I visit my family)

During my college years, I taught this game to all my friends and we would play this game non-stop for days and sometimes all night. We allowed dictionary so that we could learn new words and we always played for fun; snacking and fooling in-between games. Over the years, I learnt some tricks on how to confuse the opponent and win the game. I taught those tricks to my friends too who would use it against me and make me lose. In Mumbai, I joined scrabble club, where we would play it regularly and even participated in many scrabble tournaments, much of which I lost. But I was never offended if I lost and always came out stronger each time.

Most of the time it is pure luck that we may get good combination to be able to make seven-letter word which gives an impressive score. It is not the deciding factor for showing off the intelligence or word power, nor are there any laurels to be won. The opponents who play with me regularly are equally good, and they do have impressive scores and rankings, so there is nothing to feel egoist about winning. But most of the time I am lucky. (maybe because I am unlucky in love. Huh?) I have some friends who continue to play with me and before one game ends they have already started a new one. They tell me that it is challenging playing with me and I get aggressive too.

But lately I have been offending my friends by winning. Now I can’t play badly and let my friends win, can I? That will not be fair. I don’t understand why they get so discouraged by my winnings? Why can’t they get aggressive and fight back? Why do they have give up on me? Must they always win and play with only those whom they can beat easily? Don’t they like challenges any more?

And why do I get stressed out if they give up on me? Now that is the question I need to introspect.