I'm Misleading Them...

After creating this blog it took me a few years to begin writing posts here. I simply didn't know what to write. I couldn't be an open book and pour out my heart on everything that had happened to me or was happening to me. I'm a private person on certain levels...have always been one.

I'm not a fashionista…and blogging about fashion would have meant a raid by the fashion police at my door every hour. My love for cooking too didn't mean that I would keep cooking and share recipes or food stories, too lazy for that.

Blogging about gadgets and gizmos would have meant inventing new definitions of the craft which might have given the fandom of Apple and Samsung and others severe attacks of acidity, and their wrath upon me.

The blog wasn't going to be my personal journal that was for sure…so what else I could log in here I had mused.

Books...movies…random stuff…and occasional food or fashion related tidbits?...Yes!
But how or where do I begin was a big question and the BIGGER question was- what would I call it?
Following too much of contemplation and deep meditation for like thousand years, "CoffeeBeans" was coined. 

I like the name…I like the sound of it...and the reminder of the aroma of coffee energizes my thought process. But…there is always a 'but', isn't there? But…I sometimes wonder if some other name might have been right for my blog. A jazzy or a funky name that's savvy enough to grab everyone's attention...or an elegant, lady-like name that smells of etiquette from far away...or perhaps a geeky bong name that stirs the intellectual cells of the brains. 

However, whatever name I might have chosen would definitely not have generated the kind of emails that I receive asking me if I would like to discuss or join their coffee grinding skills, or which coffee beans are of superior quality and some such.

Apparently these people strongly believe my blog to be a small scale industry dealing with coffee grinding, and that I'm some coffee maker trying to make it big in the big bad world of beverages. their R&D sucks My blog name confused them…I misled them. This post too will surely mislead them I know and their emails will keep gracing my inbox.

Meanwhile CoffeeBeans remains as it is; the name, the content…And the inbox stays open for all as usual.

If I'm a Coffee-Bean plant owner to you better think I'm the best, the one and the only, the ultimate, the unparalleled, the queen bee of the coffee industry. I won't accept anything lesser. Period.

Signing off for now as my coffee (made from ek rupaye wala Bru sachet) is getting cold.

Namastey!

A couple of weeks back, I entered CoffeeBeans. What happened next was unexpected and I forgot why I was here and what I wanted to write.

I was greeted by a soggy smell that drifted through the screen. It was a familiar soggy smell; the smell that swallows up a house that's been locked for months. I trotted further in and the sight was tragic. Layers of dust sat on the posts, many words were buried underneath it. Thick cob-webs weaved by a certain black-widow were suspended from the corners of the walls. 

I advanced a little more. It was dark, it was gloomy, and it was cold. Bats hanging upside down were ready to attack their way out through the java scripts. The pictures that I used for the posts had a haunted appearance about them; I swear some of them were even moving, giving me spiteful looks. The murkiness of the place made me wonder if I was standing in the hallway of 12 Grimmauld Place. Dreadful! However, the absence of Kreacher and the Black family tree assured me that I wasn't. I was inside CoffeeBeans, my beloved blog.

The place just needed some serious breathing in there.Every corner, every crevice was wailing for attention. It needed warmth and light of words. It needed me. I began with the repair work. I needed to sharpen up my writing teeth too. The bluntness was nauseating...so got myself half a dozen of canons to read. 

Two weeks now, and here we are-my blog and I. You can see the walls (body of the blog) are whiter now, and the header is new too…of which, btw, I had advertised on my Facebook page (those doodles are my creation, thank you for the applause).

Of course you won't know of the changes if you are new here or if you weren't paying attention earlier because my words were so enchanting that your mind was focused solely on what I wrote and not the décor. {*bows* if that's the case}

Anyhow, that's done - the renovation, which, was quite a qamar-tod job; doodling online isn't easy, I'm getting back my sketch-pad and pencil for sure, the old school ways are always relaxing, and...and my writing is now filed too. So, see you around ;)

Namastey!  _/\_

The month of May!

Hello Hello Hello!

What a May I had! A day more for the scorching month to end. 
From meeting old friends to finishing up three short stories to catching flu after 7.5 years to missing my blog's anniversary and what not. Phew!! So much to tell.
okay, so where do I begin?

Guess, shouting and jumping and jigging should be in order. CoffeeBeans got featured on baggout's top 15 short story blogs of India. Eeeeeeehawww!! Lala laa lala  lalla lalalala....and my Fb blog page has more than 500 likes; 583 as wek speak.
 Ahhh!! And all this on it's 3rd bday month...awww...my baby is three now. They grow up so fast, don't they. *teary eyes*

I know I've been disappointing many by not being active much here...no excuses...no promises...but I just want to thank everyone who honestly appreciate whatever little writing skills I have. Tons of gratitude on your way!

Now for some more attention seeking news. I and mom were down with flu for a week. Poor dad had to put up with two demanding bong women at the same time without questioning. He cooked, kept tab on our medicines, kept us hydrated, smiled while we threw tantrums. Did I tell you I've a great dad who sometimes turn into Bhaskar's character from Piku minus the constipation hardship. 

This month is full of anniversaries. My parents celebrated their 38 years of togetherness. Two of my friends celebrated their silk anniversaries. Yeah I've learned some of the names of anniversaries. Paper, silk, iron, pottery, ivory. Before they reach the silver mark, they go through these. 

Anyhow, I'll now wrap up this post with a bow and a big thank you to Baggout for appreciating my blog. Do check the site. Yes I'm happy.

P.S. I badly need a hair cut. With it touching the small of my back, I feel like Rapunzel and the Bombay heat denies the pleasure of being the Disney princess. Was in the mourning period so, couldn't chop them. The period ends today.

P.P.S. I found a tiny little crawling white creature in a litchy. It looked cozy sitting inside the depression of the fruit. I discarded the fruit.

Making of a History aficionado?!

I love cinema. Movies, the good ones, are so much more than entertainment. Till date, for me its one of the best form of arts. But never have I garnered the same affection for History, that is until now. 'Now' refers to the past five or maybe six years.

As an average student I often lashed out at education system, within the confines of my mind, for not introducing Cinema as one of the subjects. It would have surely pushed my total percentage several notches up. Moreover my detest for History; the subject of dead people I cared the least for, had me have some wicked conspiring wishes. One of the milder ones was me merrily dreaming of Cinema replacing the good for nothing, drab, avein History; yes, the subject of dead people, I cared the least for, in our syllabus.
No surprises here, my prayers which were byproducts of my wishes fell on deaf ears - always, no exception.

Now that I'm older, wiser, sexier, and my whites are dyed in burgundy, History has gingerly but royally seduced its way into my life.
I don't recollect precisely how and when the amour blossomed between us but, today dead people fascinate me. Their lives, their milieu, their conspiracies, their struggles, their ideas - ill or not intrigue me. I'm captivated by the Mughals, the Mauryans, the Cholas, the whole shebang.

Cinema (ones with vintage approach) with its story telling prowess, the immensely talented people, Bollywood, Hollywood and all that jazz is still the apple of my eye, but in time History has ensconced itself on a strong dignified status.

Long Time No See-Saw!!!

Hello my fellow Earthlings,

Missed me?
Yes? Awww...love on your way.
No? Hmmm...hope that cauliflower on your kitchen counter is pillaged by those nasty, ewwish looking green worms.

*looks churlishly*

Now, I'm not going to delineate the sequence of actions and thoughts I was breathing in in these last many weeks. How I survived without blogging? or whether the reason was sheer boredom? or the much hated writer's block? Nada-giving you nothing to tittle-tattle about.

Surely, politics allowed to engage our days with lot of amusing topics, like it always does and always promises to present more entertainment. However, the one who bested all was, Baba Rampal; with his huge fortress, private army and human shield stayed in the limelight for around two weeks. And now we hear of another Baba;  "FrozenBaba" whose bhaktajans are ready to produce their "Meditating" baba in the court and prove he is not dead but on the path of Nirvana.

Gosh how much I love these Babas and Babis. Even the not much famous Bangali babas' advertisements are so delightful. They are good entertainers, not as entertaining as FRIENDS but definitely better than BiggBoss. OMG...did I just name FRIENDS and BB in the same line :o :o :o *blasphemy* :(
Hopefully, I would get to forgive myself some day for this imbecile interjection.

Moving on...
There is so much to talk about ...so much to listen to ...so much to express...so much to bore you with...and for that I'm scribbling this balderdash to announce: " CoffeeBeans is back"; Hope to create some good posts and eventually give something to gossip about. *wink*

Ergo, with a promise of next post soon to go live, signing off for today.
Xoxo

P.S. Worm infested cauliflower or any vegetable indicates ...no or less use of pesticides on them. Safe to eat...no?

P.P.S. My next post would be a book review.

The Hand-Writing Mirror!

  

One of the childhood memories that flashes before like the crystal clear water of Gangotri, is that of my father yelling, snorting, cribbing about me not having good handwriting. He from his boyhood days was a proud owner of a handsome handwriting and I had a terrible one. Well "terrible" by his standards, "okay-ish" by my teachers' and "readable" by mine.

Every time dad went near my notebooks, it meant a lecture was on it's way. I don't remember his words, so much so for as clear as Gangotri, but he definitely meant; handwriting is the mirror of human's soul. I cared the least. What would an eight year old care for a soul's mirror as long as it's readable?

Universe had it's other plans and my school announced handwriting competition along with spelling contest. I took up the challenge. I was competing against myself. And don't we give our best with the best opponents?
I practiced, imitated dad's handwriting, copied the way the boy who sat next to me scribbled.
Result, I won the spelling competition ...lost handwriting one to a girl from my class whose features were similar to Juhi Chawla, something that gave her the right to behave like the actress, and gave every girl the licence to hate her.

Anyhow, I was beaten by myself...I shrugged, what would a nine year old care about a mirror of a soul?
At home, dad's eyes were moist. Alright, I'm exaggerating, they weren't moist, but certainly were happy. Due to all that practice, I had acquired a good handwriting which now flowed everywhere out of habit. Yes my handwriting had improved and how. It was almost like my dad's.

From then, it was no looking back. I never again participated in handwriting competition as they were no longer held...but appreciation for my handwriting galore. Boy I was one happy soul. Surely it's mirror of our souls, eh!

Years later, with computer and now with smart phones at my side, the mirror of my soul types. My fingers refuse to conjure the beauty once it was famous for. It's been a week now, and I have been struggling to get those handsome curves in my words that ruled the handwriting world.
This morning I felt a tinge of the royal beauty...I'm certain I saw the glimpse of the old bugger. Ergo, with gallons of hope to revive it and keep it alive and healthy for good, I'm signing off for now.

The God, The Athlete and The Indian GK!

TV channels often show us answering basic general knowledge queries related to our country. Many of us assertively give incorrect answers. But are they really incorrect? Lets analyse.

"Who is the President of India?"
Dr. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam has been our favourite. We have kept him our President for the past 12 years and perhaps will continue doing that for some more.Yes that's our love for our ex President, Dr. Kalam. Some of us showered their love for Dr. Manmohan Singh. Perhaps that confused UPA and ergo, they couldn't function properly. *sad face*
 
Anyway, these bold erroneous responses filled with amour don't restrict themselves to people only, they fan out to other areas too. Most recently, Delhiites were shown expressing their confidence in the Indian football team. They just knew our team would get the FIFA World cup this year. That's our LOVE and deep patriotism.

Such passion for our country only explains why some of my fellow Indians unleashed not-so-civil words on Maria Sharapova, a Russian Tennis player, when she said "who is Sachin Tendulkar".

"Who is Sachin Tendulkar"?!?!?!What a blasphemy! How dare she? How can she live on this planet and not know the God of Cricket? The God who lifted the entire world of sports. And mind you, sports mean Cricket. That's the definition of sports, period. So, good that many of my fellow citizens took upon themselves and flooded Ms. Sharapova's Facebook page and other social media spaces with their knowledge about the God, who when failed to deliver was pummeled and maligned by the same mouths.

Hey, but then that's our love for him, we have every right to do that and anyone who disrespects by not knowing Sachin's name will be provided with his background 24*7 x days till she apologizes to Tendulkar, coated with slurs and slanders.
So, what if most of us GK providers consider Hindi as our National Language while India doesn't have one?
So, what if many of us often shift Gateway of India to Delhi and India Gate to Mumbai. Does it really matter.
Who gives a damn if we mix and match our Presidents, PMs, monuments, etc. etc...We love Sachin and we don't care about other athletes and our Indian GK is fine.

NOTA or no NOTA...

I feel very awkward when I’m asked which political party I support. I wonder what they would establish after I give them my favorite. Are they looking for a same pinch moment there or are they looking for a debating moment to launch their arguing skills with the political knowledge they have gathered so far? In either case I’ll be disappointing them. I don’t get into such debates anymore that lead to nothing but high pitched voices and anyway, I might just push the NOTA button. But then, the man who is contesting from our area is worth my precious vote irrespective of his party ideologies, so… who knows.

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With the family issues finally settling down, I have a challenge to manage many pending matters. The challenger is yours truly and looks like exciting days are ahead, eh! *winks*
There were many people who helped me through this phase (my friends; not naming anyone). You guys made it a smooth ride. Thank you…and lots of hugs and love!

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How can I let go of you without a dose of today’s photo. So, here is a photuu of one of my Gendaa-Gadrilis, exclusively from our French-window garden. Doesn’t she look happy? :D

 

A Goodbye, A Match and My Holi-ness!!

So, yesterday Khushwant Singh decided to leave us for heavenly abode. The man just fell short of a year before making it as a centenarian but as the cliché goes he will live with us through his stories, jokes, his tenure with The Illustrated Weekly of India and much more. I remember the first time I read him, it was Karma, it was some 10 years ago and I read it again tomorrow. It wasn't a tribute but I just felt an urgency to read the story.

And from the obituary articles in TOI and MM, I not only learned a lot of things about him but also learned one thing from him- to reply every mail. Not to spare the hate-mails either.
So disciplined and earthy yet so rich with his thought and actions. The dirty old man, as he liked to be called, did live a life extraordinary. RIP.

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Elections are accelerating the TRPs of the news channels, the conjectures of the missing Malaysian plane are making waves everywhere but nothing can beat India-Pakistan match which is on air right now. Everybody is glued to their idiot-flat screens. Missing my evening dose of Mahabharat.

*Fingers crossed for India*

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Speaking of conjectures, people have been concluding many reasons for why I have stopped playing Holi. I have 4-5 reasons always lined up, none of which are false, they all contributed to my decision of giving up playing with colors. And I lay these reasons before them and they choose their favorite…some lecture me how I'm missing on the fun of life, some say they relate with me.
Am I going to be a boring person on every Holi-purnima? No, give me organic colors, all my friends and a promise to not to waste water and I'm game. Till then, I'll enjoy feasting during this festival day.

Mom made these samosas on the eve of Holi…they were yummylicious...too bad you can only have a look at the pic.

  

Mom holding it for the camera moment

Silver Linings!

The past couple of months were stormy for my family. Problems aren't something that can stir my ground but this one did... we were simply dragged into a dramatic situation with no involvement of ours in the first place. Worst part, the one who dragged us was someone we trusted, we are usually used by such people, aren't we? 

The situation kept creeping in within many realms of my life, including my writings... my blog. My posts were turning into angry tides. My haikus reflected words from depressing hollow. I deleted, I scrapped, I refused to post such negativity.

Besides snapping at my friends, and snubbing them I indulged myself into reading, I read some 10 books in this span of time. Tolstoy, Shakespeare, Agatha Christie, Jhumpa Lahiri became my companions. My closest friends of course stood by my side and helped me come back to track. The most important part was I and my parents never gave up hope and stood by each other, supporting each other. The bond is rock solid.

The drama still lingers but I and my family are happy and blessed.