The 'Hope' Incident!

Courtesy: Inmagine.com

The heat of summer, the stress at work and the ever so slow traffic had taken its toll on me. Standing in the bus packed with sweating men and women standing-sitting so close to me for more than an hour was killing me brutally.
Twenty minutes had gone by and the bus had moved only an inch. 
Sigh!

My legs were crying, my muscles were threatening to revolt, my senses were on their way to call a strike and I still had to board an equally crowded train after this ordeal.

Just when my right shoulder was about to begin complaining about the weight of my purse that was hanging from it, my throat gave a slight itch; one I was so familiar with. It resulted from the need of water. A need I wasn't able to fulfill with as my bottle was empty.

As the bus kept inching towards the station, its final stop - my stop, the thirst kept aggravating.
The prayers were in all the languages I knew and it had only one underlined wish. Get me home quickly, please!

I was famished, I was thirsty, I was worn out. And the traffic just refused to budge. With all my will power and strength I stood on the spot waiting for a miracle. I played my favorite movies in my mind to avoid the reality and it kind of worked. Thirty minutes later I saw us nearing the station. I looked at the watch, 7.30. Stopping for water will make me miss the train I had my eyes on and that meant reaching home late. All I wanted that time was a hot bath, food and sleep.

Finally the bus stopped at our destination and I sprang out of its confines running towards a nearby shop. Asked for a small bottled water. I grabbed the bottle not caring its temperature or its brand. I paid and ran towards platform number 2. Knowing well the crowded train would make it next to impossible to drink my nectar, I opened the bottle and drank a little, just enough to ease the itch. All this while, running.

Reaching the platform I saw my desired train snaking in. I capped the bottle tightly and shoved it inside my already heavy purse, ready to board the battlefield. Just as the train came to halt I squeezed my thin frame inside.

I couldn't move but I had to get further in with my lock stock and barrel.
Then I felt a warm but firm hand around my right wrist. It was pulling me in. I saw a bunch of smiling females who with determination and some voice authority made the ladies around me relax and make way. In no time I was inside, safe. It was crammed but I wasn't being shoved. A woman got up from her seat and made me take her place. "You look sick", she said. I realized, I was. I could throw up anytime. Another woman gave me a bottle and asked me to take a sip from it. Its glucose water I was told. "Such journeys call for these drinks", she smiled.

I gulped down more than a little and found an elderly woman fanning me with her dupatta.
Overwhelmed with such kindness my hopes on humanity firmed up. The city that's often touted as heartless had more heartbeats than you and I could possibly imagine.

The incident reminds me of not losing faith in humanity and I hope it never dwindles.

Food for thought ...

The stinky waves of air wafted through the window in the living room. My nostrils angrily protested to breathe and my stomach threatened to throw up.
What the hell is that deadly reek? Just when I was about to conclude that something terribly ugly from hell had died below our window, the stink showed signs of familiarity; Hey Bhagwan! One of my culinary nightmares was here, a neighbor was making - ghee. *Nahiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin*

I can’t stand that smell, the smell of concoction of ghee. It paralyses my smelling sensors for hours and the only way to protect them is to run miles away.

Now my Sunday morning was all about watching cricket match with closed windows with no fresh air to enjoy. *Grumpy face*
My prayers were heard soon and the windows were opened after making sure that there was no pong but only crisp breeze of March. 

Now having resurrected my respiratory system, it had me thinking how one person’s yummy food can be another person’s yucky fare.
I have seen non-bongs gag on our fishy affairs when a fish head is served with * lots of love..of course*, on the plate with the fish eye staring at you, creepily declaring, “I see you” or when roe (no not the caviar) pakodas make their way on the dinning table as starters.

The weird food doesn’t stop at the thresholds of bong homes though, its everywhere. It’s just that, the cuisines and the people to lose their lunch vary. Sample this, The vegetarians give a disgusted look at the non-vegetarian’s plate. Goras disgorge when they see Indians relishing on the bone marrow from the bone cooked in a delicious curry. Of course the fish head too makes them choke. And most of the desis can’t stand the site of a steak. 

The snakes, the scorpions, the cockroaches and maggots are a much known puke-ish diet munched with lots of frolic by many people around the world.

Some of the strangest and lesser known are the Italian rotten cheese-Casu Marzu, to which larvae are deliberately added to make it a mouthwatering delicacy (how cheesy!), there are countries where willies of animals are devoured merrily and then there are some cultures who feast upon blood.

So, the million dollar question is, should we gag over other people's weird food or respect the food even if its sight or/and smell gives a fair idea of how the hell looks like?
I prefer to choke when not around the host of an unpleasant cuisine and to respect and be polite about their food, in front of them-A Hypocrisy, I will be forgiven for.

P.S. Apology if I made you throw up… but my posts don’t come with any warning. 

Death of the Mustard Sauce !

I haven’t been subjected to too much of superstitions or any unnecessary traditional practices/rituals; may be its one of those perks of nuclear families, where parents think and act with more logic sans the pressures of  members who assume every tradition needs to be followed, which makes no sense. And let me fill in something here, there aren't many such members in my entire family. *Happy face*

Yesterday, dear destiny had a surprise stored for me. A few days ago, I came across a recipe of a Bengali mustard sauce, used in cooking delicacies, called Käsundi/Käshundi. My grand confession; I never liked the pungent sauce ever and with not having any other fan at home, the poor sauce never gained an entry into our household. (This confession must have shocked many bongs)

But the seducing pictures of the ingredients and the jar filled with the mustard hued sauce along with the dish cooked with it, stirred my taste buds to the point that I made up my mind to not only make the sauce all by myself but also cook chicken with it.
I with all the zing and enthusiasm of a kid in the candy store told mom of my culinary mission. A surprised pair of eyes stared at me for a few seconds and then I heard a little "Okay". As I said, there were no Käsundi fans in my house, but of course Moms are always supportive.

She then told me how Käsundi is not just another sauce prepared in the kitchen.
It’s a ritual. There is a domestic ceremony connected to the preparation of the sauce. I suddenly had a faint recollection of hearing about it years ago, and now both my heart and my brain welled up with questions. The hows… the whys surfaced.
What came next was fascinating; the sauce was prepared, on a particular day of a particular month, by one or two of the married ladies (who were not in their periods) of the house. After taking bath, the lady/ladies began the ceremony, the mustard seeds along with other ingredients except salt and turmeric were placed in a cloth, then washed under running water, while conch shells were blown by other ladies of the house. After the washing the mixture were sunned properly before pounding into a pulp till the sauce was ready.

I got the "How" part, but, the "Why" was still not answered. Why such a ceremony for making a sauce? What was so special about it?
But mom said, "You don’t have to do so much, no one follows it nowadays".
"Of course", I told myself, "Käsundi is found over the counter at any shop across West Bengal and the companies who make it definitely don’t go through so much of trouble." *Big Grin*

Later that day, I told my dad about my mission and how I was very keen to do it. With a very serious look he told me, "Your mom told me about it a while ago and I wanted to discuss it with you." (I knew, whatever that I was about to hear, is not what I wanted to hear). He said, "Your thaakuma (paternal grandmother), for some reason banned the making of Käsundi, in the household, and to this day no one in our family makes the sauce, hence, you can’t make it". I couldn't believe my ears, my dad, who always encouraged me for everything I wanted to do, was saying this to me. 

My rebellion side took over and I asked, "WHY?" to which, as I knew, there was no answer, he didn't know the reason; he just knew thaakuma had banned it. 

Dad held me and told me he would get the best of the Käsundi from the market and then I can cook with it, I… refused the offer.

I was disappointed... but I wasn't angry or hurt…. I had a new mission, to know my WHYs.
Why the ceremony? Why the ban?
I don’t know whether I will ever get my answers but I am determined to look for them.
Some day, maybe, I will make the sauce and who knows maybe in the traditional way following all the rituals.
*fingers crossed*

Damsels in distress!..??

I have reason for not posting anything for a little more than a week...oh! and its a really good reason ...I wanted to write about "Damsels in distress!.. ??" and was waiting for an incident related to the topic to reach its apex (I wanted to share it), which had its beginning end today.


Well, it started a week ago, when I came across a discussion, where a group of young ladies were talking over whether girls should be treated with little extra care and love at home as they need it because of their sensibility- only a few agreed on it.
When I laid the same topic in front of my friends, all of them went against it.
All the girls from both the groups, hooting the idea of being "favored", said one common thing;
"We are strong enough to take care of ourselves, we don't want extra protection from anybody".

 I, coming from a liberal family and also being the only child of my parents, never had to face any preference or discrimination...barring the occasional - first serving of treats in family get togethers (me being the only girl of my generation in the family back then), which happened ages ago. *I really enjoyed those -winks* . 

Though my father was and is still protective about me...but that does not make me feel like a princess locked away in a tower, with a fire breathing dragon as the gate keeper (hey I just described Fiona), it never did. And my Mom, well she is one hell of a cool mother.

Now, with such upbringing, I feel suffocated when bound with rules...and I get irritated when I am being treated with loads of extra care.
Agreed, some discipline..some pampering is required/acceptable... but total discrimination/ preference.. NO WAY !
I dislike extremes in anything. Balance- is the keyword in life.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now, for the incident I was talking about;
Uma, the 13 year old daughter of our help (Mina), was in tears when she told me and mom that her father and brother decided to stop her schooling. Reason : The neighborhood girls were stopped by their respective families for various reasons (how shameful) and the father-son duo did not want their darling little one to travel so far to reach the school all alone, as neither of them could accompany her, because they left for work early morning.
I was wide eyed listening to all of this, my heart sinking, as I was aware of her want/love for school and studies... my mind began churning ideas of how to convince the men to allow her to go to school, I was looking for solutions which they might agree to.

Then something nice fell into my ears, her mother spoke up, she did not agree with them and wanted her daughter to study further -how did I forget her, all I was thinking was of the men- I was thrilled, the woman was speaking for her daughter's rights and at that very moment, it hit me, if she can not go to school, then how about distance learning. She can study from home and the only time she will have to leave for school is during exam. I enthusiastically put forward the idea and was overjoyed to hear that the mother had already spoken about it to her family, and that they were in talks with the school authority.
*Cheers to Mina*
But this does not end here, the best news was still to come, and that was today. The school had a discussion with the family and convinced the men to send Uma to school.
YES... she will go, she will continue her studies; she will do what she wants, what she needs, what she loves.

While writing about his, my heart went out to those girls from Mina's neighborhood. I wish they had a Mina in their families, to give that strength and support to the girls, to live on their own terms.

So, we are "Damsels in distress", but we can take care of ourselves...teach us to take care of ourselves... make us to take care of ourselves.

Monsoon, where art thou ??

The other day I was told about this interesting thing about ants and monsoon.
Apparently, ants come out to collect food 12-14 days prior to the onset of the monsoon...I also came to know about a man from Thailand who could (and I am guessing, he still can) always tell the arrival date of the monsoon just by observing the ants....veeeery interesting... isn't it ?
(& DO I believe in it...? I believe in the person who told me and Nature never ceases to surprise me.)

Now, when I heard this, it simply came back to me, that I was enlightened by this "phenomenon" in the past as well, though could not place my finger on - how?, by whom ? or when ? .. but I knew this before and had simply forgotten about it.

Anyway, since then, i.e. since Friday, I have been looking for the marching ants at home and other places *yeah yeah... I am eagerly waiting for a good downpour* .. but no luck.
Either the pesticide has worked really well ...or its still not the time for the sky to go dark ... or the ants, from where I live, have supplies stuffed in their kitchen. *sigh*


Well, talking of Monsoon, rain, downpour, dark clouds... there is this one song that comes to my mind, which I find so apt for the season ... the song has two versions... one- sung by a male (Kishore Kumar) and the other ..the female version (by Lata Mangeshkar)... and though I love to listen to the male version more... I find the female version more appealing to my eyes, the picturization is perfect... just like it should be... it has purity, innocence, romance; and not just between the actors but also between the rain and the city (Mumbai) too... you can feel the showers romancing the city from late 70s... *smiles*


I am sharing the song here .. I hope you will love it, just the way I do :)

Here is --Rim Jhim Gire Sawan, from Manzil... Enjoy !! :)

                                                 

Fun personified ..!

Sunday was special... Mom - Dad celebrated their 34th wedding anniversary. *smiles*

Settling for a 'small' celebration this year (we had a good reason for it... don't ask), a nice spread, for three of us (yes a spread for only three, we bongs take our food pretty seriously), with some mouth wattering desserts for lunch, was laid, followed by an old Bollywood comic flick.."Chameli Ki Shaadi" *what an apt movie for anniversary :P *, at home. A similar spread was laid for supper as well, which we gorged on with BIG smiles on our faces.

Happiness can be gathered in so many little/simple things - Being together with your loved ones, relishing home food... listening to your folks remembering their days of youth...teasing each other.. watching classic movies, all this with so much of laughter and giggles... is FUN personified ;)

Cold coffee anyone ??

After a somewhat tiring day, I sat down for a tall glass of cold coffee. I am not a coffee person, certainly not a tall glass of coffee person; no way. Chilled lemonade is what works for me *smiles*, specially during this time of the year, when the sun is trying its best to scorch you.

But today was different, I just felt that I should get some cold coffee, to cool myself in this burning heat, with no whipped cream of course (my cheating weekend of the month got covered last week, rememmmmmberrr).

So, here I was in a coffee shop, by myself, placing my order and secretly wishing if I could cheat. *sigh*

While waiting for my refreshment, thoughts of this week kept flashing by; thoughts of my accomplishments (small...big), but, mostly thoughts of how in no time my plans got cancelled, and I was left with a few sad faces, including mine.

My cold coffee arrived -Oh my... what a delicious sight it was- the caramel hued drink just looked like the path to heaven... ice cubes smirking at me through the froth tempting me to polish it off within a minute... the white bendy straw made sure I did not have second thoughts of leaving the beverage... I needed no more cues, taking the straw in my mouth, I sipped on the drink. The moment the cold liquid went in, there was a feeling of relief; relief from the heat, relief from the not so good thoughts, I was having till now. The more I savored it, the more I felt perked up. My day was made. Not sure, how this worked, but it did. 

I made sure to finish it up till the last drop, after all a girl needs to have a happy weekend  *Winks*

Will Cold Coffee make it to my must have list ?...I don't know. 

Well, with this anecdote I leave you, my friends, with happy weekend wishes. 

Oh! I totally forgot... Cold coffee anyone ? 

                                                 Images : www.inmagine.com

Awkward...!!

We often witness ourselves in a situation where we just want to run...or...hide.. or want the earth to open its mouth and swallow us...but none of these happen... and we are stuck in the moment, the awkward moment.

A few years ago, at a mall, a girl walked up to me, greeting me with a warm smile, asked after my family and my life...& I had no idea what her name was... who she was... I just carried on with the conversation, matching her enthusiasm of meeting after so many years, while at the same time, I was asking my brain to activate my memory cells and save me.
Then suddenly, she gave me a *I heard what you just said to your brain* look, and said, "You don't remember me, do you ?"-----*awkwaaaaaaard* 

There I was, standing saucer-eyed, not knowing what to do?....Someone inside me started screaming, "RUN....RUN" and after a few seconds which seemed like eternity, I found myself muttering the famous word *sorry* ... confessing my goof up. Clearly, by now I was a puppy eyed girl, trying my best to fix the situation.
----Did it work ? Of course it did. *SMILES* 

A few Awkward situation I found to be a common phenomenon  :

• Something serious is being said, and you laugh and everyone looks at you. Ooppss ...*awkwaaaaard*  ---Fix it : Say "Sorry, please continue".
• You try to open a door by pulling it and then realize it has a sign that clearly says "push". Okay !!* awkwaaaaard* ---Fix it : Don't react, be nonchalant.
• You ask a lady, when is she due...and you come to know, she is not pregnant.
  Soooooooo * awkwaaaaard*.---Fix it : Apologize and walk away, in case she is less acquainted with you, to save yourself from further embarrassment.
• You are giving a presentation and you mess up with a word. Even worse, if the word now sounds something related to sex. (Excellently, captured in the movie, 3 Idiots) Definitely * awkwaaaaard*.
  ---Fix it : Relax.... rephrase your sentence using the correct word and continue.
• You are talking not so nice things about someone and you realize the person is right behind you. Ouch !! *awkwaaaaaaaard*---Fix it : Give it some time and make a genuine apology, as it did a good damage. 

Go ahead add to the list and let me know what was your top Awkward moment *winks*.

Oh !! Btw, that girl from the mall, was a school mate, same grade, different division.

Happy weekend...!! 

                                                  Image :  TV show "Awkward"