A dollop of tune

Saturday brunch : Mooli paratha, baked palak kofta kadhi, mango chutney and a glass of buttermilk!



















And to deliver the right kind of ambiance, a shot of this:

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Writing prompt #4

Rules: Take 10 minutes to write. Please time yourself. When you have finished writing, please leave a link to your response in the comments box. Have fun!

Prompt: Write about an ordinary, everyday event in your family's life. It could be something that your mother or father did every day - ironing clothes, cutting vegetables, doing puja. Or something one of your siblings did - washing the moped or scooter, perhaps. May be even something that all of you did together regularly.

She came as a new bride into a joint family, one that covered generations from a great grandmother to the inlaws to bachelor brothers-in-law. It was a different world to adjust to, different kind of food, different personalities, diverse expectations and such. An aging cook catered to the needs of the family. Since she usually got in late, breakfast was almost always bread. Why not, since it was the land of Iyengar bakeries of yore- the dear Bengaluru.

Tiffin at 4pm was a standard feature, the cook's masterpieces made its way to the table(no make it the floor, dining table didn't exist then). From akki rotti to steaming hot idlis and dosas, the cook's repertoire was matchless. But the audience was limited, given it was the middle of the day, specially with working male members of the household.

Then the older child happened. Many years later a younger child happened. The family moved out, became a nuclear setup.

For the first time in her married life, the bride(now a woman, a mother) found herself having to fend herself in the kitchen. First she bought herself a copy of 'Samaithu Paar', the legendary 'Cook and See', of course. It was not the era to make lengthy STD calls to her mother for 911 cooking assistance.

What can I start with? She thought to herself. Let me begin a tradition of the morning breakfast, Femina tells me its the best meal of the day. 30 yrs later, she forges on. She has now established herself as the breakfast queen of the household.

Come 7am, the daughters, even to this day, line up with plates, hawk-eyed, close to drooling, waiting for her crisp dosas with chutney, or the occasional idli-vada-sambar, or rava-idli with sagu, or puri with kurma, or pongal with gojju, or akki rotti.....the dishes each full of delicious flavor and a scent of hard work.

The father walks in from his morning exercise around this time. He finds his family(not surprisingly) cloistered around the dining table enjoying their morning fix, topped with some hot steaming filter kaapi. The girls dont allow the mother to enjoy her creation, till she has topped the masterpiece with a steel tumbler of her special filter kaapi.

'Whats the thindi today?" he asks

There is a if/not flow chart here. If its upma, avlakki sorts, he will move on to other chores and indulge in breakfast at 10am. If he hears dosa, akki rotti etc, breakfast will be early. No one wants to wait to dig into wholesome goodness, do they now?

Raat ki baat

Our home in Bangalore is a 2 bedroom. Just enough for the four of us. That would be my parents and us two girls. Then of course, my parents are a holy union of the North and South pole. With the fan on, if one sleeps like a baby, the other gets migraines. If one has to have ALL windows open to sleep well, the other gets a chill. If one needs layers of blankets, the other get claustrophobic. Thus the list goes on. Before the thought crosses your mind, let me dispel them by saying the horoscopes were certainly matched and neither of them was coerced. So there! With such conditions, they had to be separated. Next, there was a time when life was simple and we had ONE tv. Then North and South pole developed(but, of course) diverse tv watching needs and by then West end(my sister) had grown old enough to proceed in a totally different direction with her channel demands. Thankfully West end and South pole decided to co-exist despite their differences. So they plotted to move in together into the 'girls' bedroom which I facilitated by moving out to the US. The arrangement then became North pole in one bedroom, South pole and West end in the other with their own tv. The guests didn't have a choice, they were categorically just not welcome.

So then what happens when I go home these days? Well lets see. Mother and daughter have now worked out a cozy connection between themselves. But they are also generous and want me to be a part of their communion. So the option of me sleeping on the diwan out in the family living room is ruled out. Unacceptable according to them, though it makes total sense to me. But no, I don't have a choice(please refer to the line : Guests don't have a choice; I am NOT a guest). So they insist I sleep in the 'girls' bedroom; that makes it 3 of us. Ok, fine. Adjusting, as a bharatiya naari, is but part of our heritage. Do keep in mind, neither of them wants to sleep in the middle. So what does that leave me with? Yes, you get the point.

Now West end is an extremely picky sleeper. She has to block every ray of light that could ever enter a room. She is also audio-sensitive, a gene her mother has generously donated . Wait, there's more. The DSL modem lands in West end's bedroom because she is the only one that uses the internet. Until my previous trip, there was no wireless router and now that there is one, signal strength in any room outside is weak. Now me, being me, I have a problem sleeping even in good times. Jetlag adds a new dimension altogether. Also, this time I had to work for 2 weeks and mostly to US times. So I set 4pm-1am IST as my work schedule. Keep in mind, West end needs to be up at 7am to leave for work at 8am. She has a hectic job and hence needs her beauty sleep.

Come 10pm and both mother-daughter turn the lights off. West end mutters under her breath for AT LEAST 30 mins about how my laptop light coupled with my keyboard sound is torturing her. Sometimes this happens when I am on a conference call, dialed over my VoIP client. I cringe at the thought that my boss might overhear some of it and make his own irrational conclusions.

After a lot of pacifying and promising to write away my first born to her, West end finally dozes off(I don't believe she is all that photo/audio-sensitive, but that's a different story for another day). At around 1am when I crawl into bed, severely exhausted, jetlagged and stressed, since I have to get in the middle of both of them, of course my knees hit one person's leg or I graze on someone's ankle or maybe even poke someone in their eye cos well..uhm...there is NOT a ray of light. I have to systematically shut down the laptop, the router, the dsl modem and the neighbor's night light(upon strict orders). At that time, I hear more muttering and cursing from West end and I am also running low on my stash of patience. But I bite my lips and wait for the storm to pass hoping I don't have to give away my second born as well. By then South pole wakes up asking if I got work done and promptly refuses to share her comforter(which I bought for her on her 60th birthday and she holds on to it like it was her third child).

I am left groping for something to cover myself with. Which invariably causes more muttering by West end. Oh, I also have to refrain from shifting positions, moving my limbs around and/or other such related activities that any normal person might indulge in while sleeping. All these are likely to 'rouse' the monster. By the time she's done and I get some shut eye, I begin to wonder if I did the right thing signing up to come stay with my 'family' for 30 days and spend time with them. And I don't even want to mention the episode where I wake up at 4 or 5am(cos of my insomnia). There's only so much I can snack on, watch tv out in the living room and/or read without disturbing either one of them.

I decide to go for a walk everyday at 5am. Which means I have to set aside my track pant/t-shirt/ipod/socks out to the living room the night before(Why you ask? Lord haven't you been following the story? No lights remember?). After a good hour's walk, I finally decide to check email at a time I consider a reasonably sane hour erm...6am! By then I have said my prayers and even folded hands in front of the idol in Lalbagh on my walk and I pray everyday that West end doesn't kill me at the sound of my windows laptop booting or the light from the monitor or the sound of my breathing....any one thing is fair game for a trigger.

She doesn't but it invariably puts her in a bad mood till the time she leaves home for work. At this time, I conclude, I don't need in-laws, my own flesh and blood makes up for the lack of it.

Of gadgets and handymen

Growing up, being gadget-savvy had never featured in my list of wanna-grow-up-to-be. I've wavered between wanting to live in a thatched hut(have you ever sat inside of an umbrella and moved in your little doll-house belongings and pretended that you're living in a hut? Well I have and at that time I thought it was uber-cool!), to becoming an air-hostess, a doctor, travel guide, journo and so on and so forth. Fixing things, handling screw-drivers, hammers and what-not never featured in the daily agenda - painting, drawing, craft-work, reading, music- all packed in some very entertaining days and weeks and months, growing up.

Adulthood has been all about realizing an entirely new dimension to my personality; perhaps this is what makes one become what is called 'well-rounded'. Over time, I have become proficient in using screw drivers and hammers, pliers and some others the names of which I can hardly recall. Most of it has been due to the nature of my job. Some due to moving to this land of DIY where labor costs are an arm and a leg.

This weekend, I made grandiose plans to paint my bedroom. I had swapped the window treatment about a year ago, and there had been some remnants of a valance holder which I was unable to remove at that time. With this new project, I couldn't possibly paint around the plastic holder which appeared to be nailed(flat) to the wall. All efforts to pry it out with the limited gadgets that I owned came to naught. And it appeared that my project might come to a grinding halt, because unless I had the nail removed or found a way to break the plastic holder- there was no moving forward.

After finishing some long overdue chores, I landed at one of the two popular 'home improvement stores'. I rang the bell for assistance in the hope of getting some assistance in the form of humans over automated robots. Each one of them seemed pre-occupied and it appeared that it would be a while before someone could come to my rescue. I sauntered around the hardware/tools section- made a couple or more rounds. And returned more confused than ever. An elderly man happened to enter the section. After a second's hesitation, I walked up to him and explained my 'situation' in detail. With amusement, he asked me how I'd landed in this situation. And after a long spiel, he smiled and walked two aisles over to pick this up. "Here you go", he said, "this will be the best 10$ you will spend". A few minutes of explanation followed on how I should be using the tool and what else it could be used for. If there had been some spare nails and a test wall around, he would've even demonstrated to complete the lesson.

He ended it with "Don't even think of calling for professional help for this, you can do it!". Some pep talk that!

And thus I came home and if it weren't for the fact that I was ravenous, I would have proceeded right upstairs to get cracking. But 10 mins was all it took for 4 nails and holders to come out. And thus I now have a new tool in my kit and learnt a new lesson in gadgetry. Nail pullers! Who would've thunk?

Of bars and dates

The evening calm
A steaming meal
Some bread dipped in fragrant soup
Topped with pepper , what a deal

Digging the toes, deep into a pair
Of fleece socks with blue flair

Of candles, a soft light
Incense adds a perfumed sight
And thus its time to unwind
When a pull can be felt
Deep within the taste buds
That which just won't melt

Right now! it screams
With a pout and a wail
What can one do but rise
What's in, what's not avail

Perhaps this will do
Thus you surmise
A bar of goodness
A dates and walnuts surprise

Ahhh, yes this agreed
NOW time for a quiet read

After all, as they say- what's a craving
But a consuming desire to eat
In this case, for something
Nutty and sweet.

Premature

Nope, this isn't about preemie babies. And hence, read on :).

Recently, on a Friday afternoon, when I expressed to a friend that I was feeling lazy to get work done even though I had piles to do, she (with good intention) suggested I create a to-do list of my priorities and start working on them. Obviously, she meant well. For some reason, I couldn't help grinning at the idea. Because if there is one thing about me that tops my list of quirks, that would be my obsession to write to-do lists.

From what I need to be doing at work, to my chores at home, to what activities I have piled up in my spare time- everything is a to-do list. And when I'm done with one, I start creating more. If there was a way to set a to-do list to tell my mind about what to think about next, I would do it too. Its a perennial joke with my sister who spares no bone in taking pot shots at my expense. She has a similar outlook towards my anal retentive attitude towards revising for tests and exams. When she learnt I act in plays her first question was how many times I had re-re-revised the dialogues.

Be that as it may, this isn't about showing off my meticulous habits. Its about how I recently realized I left my childhood a long time ago. Prematurely, without being conscious of it. I don't recall the last time I did something childish and reckless and with the kind of abandon that comes from impulsive actions. I seriously don't. It almost seems like I was born with a sense of maturity and responsibility far beyond my years. And that is a sad realization.

One of the invariable side-effects of growing up prematurely is the fact that seriousness becomes a way of life. I can't remember the last time I did something impulsive, or rash or reckless like the last picture in this post .

Notes for 2009-2

* I watched 'Luck by chance' this weekend. Directed by Zoya Akhtar, starring Farhan Akhtar, Konkona Sen Sharma, Rishi Kapoor, Juhi Chawla, Dimple Kapadia and many many others in guest appearances. Its about the struggle to make it big in Bollywood. To me, it seemed somewhat parallel to 'Fashion', but much better. Javed Akhtar's dialogues are crisp and relevant. Farhan and Konkona are brilliant in being true to their characterizations though I felt the end didn't tie up all the loose ends. Nonetheless I loved Sona's(Konkona's character) words in the last scene. Dimple Kapadia is superb as ever in her role as the insecurity-laden older actress. Worth a watch.

* In other news, the weather this weekend out here was a welcome break. It was warm and sunny, the kind of days one doesn't need a heavy jacket or gloves. And hence the entire population was out- at the malls or at parks or generally hanging out.

* There's a long weekend right around the corner and that makes this work week so much more tolerable :).

* Non-stop repeat mode on for this one :



Enjoy!

Notes for 2009-1

* Watched 'Slumdog Millionaire' recently. See, I have this problem- when books are made into movies, I take it in the literal sense. I expect every detail covered in the book to make its way to the movie. Especially if its a book I enjoyed. I have had this experience with many such...like 'Kite Runner' or something as simple as 'Devil wears Prada'...I expect one-to-one matches. Also, the advantage with books and words is the freedom it gives the reader to conjure up images and settings and backgrounds and characters that's hard to match with movies. In that sense, movies take away the fun of imagination by spelling everything out. There's no work for the mind.

Anyway, as always I was expecting Slumdog to be just like Vikas Swarup's book Q&A which I read back in December of 2007. I had loved the book and the plot and the theme. Slumdog, while the framework is somewhat like the book, the actual storyline differs. And honestly, I prefer the book.

The movie is great, don't get me wrong. It was typical Bollywood masala, woven into a Mumbai slum setting with liberal doses of intrigue and romance with a backdrop of the squalor and depravity we have come to know exists in the 'heart' of 21st century India. Anil Kapoor has definitely done a great job, considering I came away despising his character. My favorite song is 'Jai Ho'. The two young adult actors Dev Patel and Freida Pinto are impressive.

That's all I've got to say. Go watch for yourself, for sure. Its worth it!

* Read John Grisham's Appeal. A typical case of class-action on chemical poisoning in small-town US. Reminded me somewhat of King of Torts.

* And so in other news, being that I am a big fan of the 'Shopaholic series', I am actually looking forward to the movie. Oh, remind me to tell y'all about this book I am currently reading, once I am done.

L board

Some snippets of chat conversations on a wintery, lazy Sunday evening

Act 1
Me : Hiya S, whatchu doing?

S : Hiya Alt, nothing much. Whats cooking?

Me : Oh, today I made bhindi masala and roti.

S : Oh! isn't that something you put on your forehead? Why/How do you make a dish out of it?

[Exactly 2 mins of mute, while my brain wheels turn and work overtime and finally a bulb goes off......now at this point if you, dear reader, tell me what is he talk about? Well, you'll know in a few seconds, cos I know this guy better than you do!]

Me : S! You astound me. Bhindi is okra you nincompoop, the one you are talking about is bindi. Bhindi is pronounced Bh-in-dee like Cindy, bindi is b-in-di as in [ahem well english doesnt have a dha-eqvt now, does it?]

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Act 2
Me : Hiya S, whats going on yo?

S : Nothing much girl. Whats going on with you?

Me : Me? Hm nothing much. Making pav bhaji for tonight's dinner.

S : Is this some dish with chicken legs?

Me : Hmmmm....

[Yes, you guessed right. More cranking of brain wheels, etc etc etc]

Me : S, you idiot! Pav is the bread that goes along with bhaji. Paanv means legs. Sheeesh!

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No kidding, but seriously S is NOT a non-desi. He's an ABCD, his parents are from Kerala and during the time these conversations are happening his new year's resolution happens to be to learn Hindi- thanks to Rosetta Stone!

Sigh!