thaumaturgist

The City and I

2011-11-13T15:59:00.004+01:00

Hey everyone, this is definitely one of my dear diary moments. It is my first blog post from my Blogger app on my mobile, so three cheers to that. Well, the reason for my doing this is because I am on the Sex and the City marathon on my laptop and did not want to open a different window to type this one out and multitasking is the modern equivalent of efficient, right?
I have always claimed to be a city girl, as you all know, I have flourishingly managed to stay afloat 5 glorious years of my adulthood in the Indian Capital and I do hail from the former Indian capital but since my move to Dresden I have slowly and unknowingly got detached from big cities. Don't get me wrong, half a million inhabitants is not small by any means (in Europe) but when your public transport is rarely 5 mins late, it loses its big city status. Unless you are sweating with worry, looking at your watch every 2 seconds, running across streets in a frenzy to reach your appointment in time (not because you took to long to get dressed but you are always stuck in traffic) and you are able to hail a cab from wherever you are, it is not a big city.
Okay, all this is coming from the fact that we are visiting Kolkata after a colossal 1.5 years and I am wondering if I will be able to tackle it. On one of my recent trips to Berlin I found myself slightly out of my depth and little weary of seeing so many people at one place and while I say that I should also mention that Berlin has only 3 million inhabitants which is just about a quarter of the number of people living in Kolkata. I know it is all about getting used to something but I want to land and takeover, I want to paint the town red (not the commie way) and I want to feel like I had never left.
It will also be my first winter in India after three years. I have fond memories of my friends mother getting me my proper, thick, Delhi-winter blanket which I treasured and curled under on those chilling January nights, the heater-blower whirring away in some little corner, and of the late foggy night strolls at the S-block park with cups of spiced ginger teas. I am guessing I will not be feeling the same chill this time around but I am sure to get a cup of one of those overbrewed teas the Firangs call Chai Tea Latte.

The Domestic Goddess in Me

2011-10-12T12:18:00.005+02:00

It is 11 a.m. on a dark, rainy, cold 'autumn' morning in October. The husband is well on his way to yet another office trip and I have managed to a steal a day from my German-ridden week. Not that it is a first but today feels slightly ceremonious. My breakfast sits on the bedside table- a soft mauve yoghurt bursting with flavour, lightly specked with crushed blueberries, and on the bed I have the latest acquisition of a book that actually is signed by the author herself, a very dear friend. I feel rather guilty for beginning to read it so 'late in the day', but to be honest it is this book that has made me break my spell of inactivity on the blogosphere.
It has nothing to do with the book per se although it is the use of adjectives and the detailed descriptions in the book that made me want to describe something as well, something I have been feeling so strongly about the last couple of weeks.
Today I am writing about one of the simple joys of life that for some turn into one of life's banes- cooking. In my family the women are, as Nigella Lawson says, "Domestic Goddesses" in the kitchen. Where my mother never ceases to amaze me with her enthusiasm to cook , my sister impresses me with her culinary range. I think it is my Grandmother to who we owe the development of our taste buds and our inability to tolerate uninspired cooking (there is no denying that we are food snobs). What I really want to say is that I wish I could combine my mother's fearlessness in the kitchen with my sister's versatility. I do consider myself to have a knack for cooking but the joy soon turns into a never-ending dread when it comes to the regular everyday cooking for the fuelling of the body. It has to be agreed upon that it really is hard to keep the recipes fresh and nutritious without making it too boring. It is this insipid feeling of chore that ultimately makes me feel too lazy to cook, hence the presence of used Chinese take out or pizza boxes in my kitchen.
The recent health-consciousness has made us cut back on eating out without giving too much thought to the alternative i.e. 'eating in'.
A couple of weekends back we had invited a family over for dinner, and while preparing the menu I decided to make a Tiramisu for dessert. I soon realized I had no Brandy/Marsala/ Rum at home, so in the process of looking for alternatives I chanced upon a Bailey's Irish Cream Tiramisu recipe on Nigella Lawson's website, now the irish cream I did have. Very tentatively I went about the process and after making it sit in the refrigerator for a day when I finally tasted it I had pleasantly surprised myself. What I realised from this experience was that special, interesting food are not necessarily a result of a Herculean task. The normal chicken curry needs more ingredients and patience than the Tiramisu. The weekend after, I baked an orange marmalade pudding cake from Nigella Lawson again to take to a party.I felt inspired and I was bursting with energy. I think, baking gives me an adrenaline rush. Today I am going to roast some chicken with thyme for dinner. It looks like Nigella Lawson is turning out to be a saviour, she has made me want to go back to the kitchen and experience the feeling of accomplishment. I just wish I had more pots, pans and various other kitchen appliances- not to forget the kitchen of dreams. And maybe some sunshine to light up the kitchen.

The Summer That Was

2011-07-05T18:58:00.004+02:00

Once again I found myself walking the wondrous streets of Paris. As if in a haze, I walked by the grandeur of the buildings and their gorgeous french windows. It seemed to me as though they were longing to be opened by someone coming to smoke the last cigarette in his pack while watching the world go by beneath the wrought iron railings or perhaps yearning to have new lovers murmuring sweet nothings, sharing a coquettish grin with martinis in hand.
The french, the say, are arrogant sons of bitches, rude and ridiculously proud and I say why not? They can, after all, put together clothes that look fresh out of the latest Spring collection. They have what it takes to look cool and detached in suits worn in that summer haze while using public transport. They do own the word grandiose and all that the word describes.
Unlike my last time , there were no festivities in the air, people were going about doing their usual business. As opposed to the chilling cold of the last time, this time it felt like the last happy scorching everlasting summer in Paris.
When I left Paris with a heavy heart in the January of 2010 I took with me memories of lifeless skeleton of trees, frozen soils, the stillness of holidays ending, wintry fogs and grey skies. When I returned, it was to unending summer days, to blooming trees, the then dead soils presently bearing green blades of grass. Never was there a stillness in the air; the skies were cloudless and blue, and blinding were the rays of the sun that scorched my skin but brightened my soul.
A walk through the Champs de Mars rejuvenated life like nothing could ever make it meaningless again. The green stretches of Park serving its purpose of existence to the fullest. Familes, young couples and old spreading a picnic on the cool of the grass, tourists finding an empty bench under the shade of large trees, finding respite from the heat, swigging down water. The hawkers approaching resting travellers trying to sell miniature Eiffel Towers for a Euro but never being too persistent, as if they were in need of a break as well.
A little further down the way one could hear the roaring laughter of children sounding joyous, the obliviousness of adulthood all too stark. Just across from this piece of heaven were a family lunching under the shades, wine poured into plastic cups, a private joke going around that made them throw back their heads in quiet laughter.
It felt like being witness to life all the while stealing glances at the tall tower now behind me.
Paris on one's own seems like a very lonely idea but I quickly gathered that it wasn't as scary as one obviously thinks- unless of course you count the strange Italian trying to chat you up while you're running to catch your metro.
Champs Elysees without the lights on is a little dull but that does not deter the serious shoppers, the romantics should stick to the parks- so utterly delicious they were if you wanted to just take out your book and shut the world except for the lovely view of the Louvre stretched in front of you or to just take a quick nap.
The debilitating hot days plastering my hair to the nape of my neck one moment and the shocking chill of the wind in the next- how it does have the ability to make you suffer and enjoy at the same time.
I had been planning a day trip to Versailles but I couldn't bring myself to leave the streets of Paris behind.
Now I am back in the cool, dark underground cellar that is called Dresden. Much cleaner, quieter, damper and comatose!
I wasn't melancholic this time while coming back home, I have a feeling that it wasn't goodbye after all!

Tête-à-Tête

2011-02-04T19:21:00.005+01:00

Intelligent Conversation- Something that is very close to my heart; something if you are only able to have once in the entire year you can consider yourself lucky, very lucky; something that is as rare as hen's teeth. You know why? Because the art of conversation is lost, because we don't converse anymore- we are too bloody busy to have a chat.
But, if I were to have an intelligent conversation, I would have all the ingredients ready at hand only to realize that I don't have the oven. Okay agreed, very bad metaphor-- but I mean the 'conversationalist', your partner in crime, your adversary, your best friend and your worst enemy all at once.
These days I only dare to bask in conversational glory through books that use the literary means of irony, sarcasm, hyperbole, rhetorical questions, jocularity and double entendre. It is best achieved with the intelligent reactions of the listener. It is fun, invigorating and discursive. It is what keeps human beings alive, it is the mainspring of ideas and inventions. Nothing gives more of an adrenaline rush than a good piece of conversation.
When your jokes go over people's heads, when someone tries to answer your rhetorical questions, when a gloomy silence succeeds an ironic remark- how discouraged do you feel? Discouraged enough to play dumb for the rest of the evening? Discouraged enough to not waste your quick retorts in that crowd? Discouraged enough to write obscure lines on your Facebook status? You are not alone!
Well, it is during these times that I miss my cultural milieu, where one can say something without fear of being disagreed with, we embrace disagreements, debates and political incorrectness. We don't dumb down, we don't run away, we don't numb ourselves with diplomacy; we converse in the true sense of the word!
My friends (you know who you are), over the years our conversations have inspired, exhilarated, infuriated and enlivened me. Take this post as my testament of how much you are missed, loved and treasured!

The Customary Ramblings of Me!

2011-01-11T09:20:00.006+01:00

It is just another day of the week. It's 9:20 in the morning and I am cozily perched on my bed, a hot cup of coffee is resting on my bedside table the grey steam of which is filling my room with aromas that awake the senses.
Morning is the best time to quietly sit and open oneself to the possibilities of the approaching day. But the beginning of the day is normally so rushed that one hardly has the time to to be philosophical about it. My mornings aren't rushed but even I can't be bothered to extrospect on a daily basis.
The last few months have been busy with regular classes leaving me only the weekends to sloth about.
We did manage to go on our vacation during the Christmas and New Years despite flight disruptions and it was a vacation in the true sense of the word. We relaxed and breathed fresh air by the caldera. The tranquility and solitude of Santorini was rejuvenating.
I also managed to complete an 800 page book that filled me up with a great sense of achievement!
Apart from the sheer beauty of nature, the food won my heart as well. The love with which food was served was a novel experience in itself. Gently coaxing us to finish the dessert that was served on the house to taking the time to know one's preferences and delivering the perfect meal. Do not mistake this for a Michelin starred restaurant- it did not have the impersonality of a corporation but warmth of hearth and home!
It is these little experiences that make vacations a success, something that we shall remember for years to come.
However being back in Dresden and to the realities of life are important as well. Everyday challenges of completing a task and planning the next, to find the drive to go through each day as well as to find a purpose all of which make life what it is- fun, unpredictable, disappointing, brilliant and hopeful.
Having completed 3 months of regular German classes I have come to realize that intellectualism and artistry are born out of leisure, mental if not temporal. The little I have, I have put to use. No, not in useful work but in self- improvement, to increase self worth and self love ( to the point of narcissism perhaps) and therefore have indulged in the learning of the Piano-forte! I feel positively Elizabethan writing this.
I must say, I am chugging along with learning a language and now an instrument without making too much of a mess, which has me truly believing that there really is no age limit to learning or gaining knowledge.
I am also starting to discover that I don't like a set routine of having to go to class everyday at the same time and wasting one of those beautiful, rare, gorgeous sunny days sitting in a room! Today is one of those days that fools you into believing that it's 10 in stead of -10 degrees C. But now I do not have the time to go out wandering into the wilderness of Dresden, now is the time to make some music while hoping the Deciduous trees outside my window will bear new leaves quite soon, that the sun will spirit away winter fleetly!

Battle of the Senses!!

2010-11-24T10:36:00.002+01:00

With daily German classes for the last one month my frequency of blogging has gone down drastically. Everyday I must forget the magic of one language to learn the tricks of another. Yes, it is very difficult to stop myself from thinking in English which in turn is limiting my imagination.
My German class is like a giant experiment with Mundane Realism, the goal of course is to figure out how much we end up learning.
I actually have the perfect analogy of the process of learning a language. It's like losing weight. When you start you lose some weight drastically and then you reach the plateau where you have to go a long way if you want to progress further, you need patience and perseverance, you will get frustrated but you have to keep at it. Learning a language is very similar, initially you learn a bunch of words and grammar that you fling around every now and then in markets and coffee shops then you reach that same plateau when you realise you have stopped learning anything meaningful, you will frustrate yourself over the fact that you still can't participate in a conversation, you may somehow figure out the topic but will not be able to convey your opinion or inputs- you will want to say something important but you will come across hindrances at every stage- first by article, then by the form of article, then usually comes the verb and its form and by the time you figure out how to put a sentence together you suddenly realise you have forgotten what it was you wanted to say.
Now here is where I have to stop writing because my class starts in an hour. I leave you with the difference between losing weight and learning a language- one never really does lose the weight but you surely do end up learning something of the language!

New York, New York

2010-10-26T14:15:00.005+02:00

People have different things they find cool, live-in relationships, computer hackers, fight club, catch 22, Playstation 3--- to me the very definition of cool is New York city
I have spent exactly 3 days of my 25 years in New York city. Once when I was 15 and once when I was 24.
I remember one of our Value Education classes in 10th std. where our teacher told us to talk about our five dream destinations. I remember jotting down NYC as one of the places. I don't remember what had me started in the first place, I only remember my writing it down on a piece of paper completely oblivious of the fact that my dream was about to be realized in a few months.
Sometimes good things come of bad deeds-- My mom and I were flown to my uncle's after the final exams. He took us on a trip from Niagara to DC to Orlando. On the way we stopped at my mom's close friend's house in Princeton, NJ. I was feeling awful for being so close to New york and yet not having the chance to see it. My uncle had said that the traffic was awful there and he would not be able to take us.
My mom's friend to whom I had mentioned my disappointment managed to convince my uncle to take us there. Traffic was horrible, my uncle didn't get a place to park the car so he dropped us in front of Battery park to take the ferry to the Statue of Liberty while he just drove around waiting for us. After that we stopped at a Subway grabbed some sandwiches, looked at the empire state building from inside the car and went back to Princeton. I was happy. I loved what I saw and to think that dreams could come true was a big thing for a 15 year old.

The second visit to New York came 9 years later. When my sister and I planned a trip with our parents. As this trip was under our control we saw whatever we could in the short time possible. We walked to Bloomingdales- through 5th avenue. I tried to find Serendipity 3 but missed that one. Went to the top of Rockefeller center, walked through Central Park, saw Park Avenue and visited the MET.
Almost did everything that someone in New york is supposed to do, including facing the bumper to bumper traffic as my bro-in-law drove.
I have always claimed that I was a city girl. I come from one of the most populous cities in the world and I am happiest when I am thrown into the chaos of a city. Call it romanticizing but no matter how distressed I get waiting for the traffic to get moving I much prefer it to the quietude of town/suburban life.
Yellow cabs, sounds of sirens, street food, crazy traffic, sidewalks filled with people, sidewalks filled with people of all colours and creeds, oh! the thought itself is so comforting. How you just get into Central park and it seems like you are far away from the hustle and bustle. Then there are the sounds of horse carriages clacking down, children playing, nannies gossiping, lovers whispering.
The buildings are so tall that even when it's sunny the by-lanes are always shadowed and Times Square is never, and I mean it, NEVER devoid of tourists. Yes it is dirty and sometimes there is a stench from the sewers but you look up to a building and you see the typical fire-escapes of Manhattan and you are reminded of the hundreds of movies you have seen that has neighbours climbing down to knock on the girl's window, or someone escaping from the bad guys - or you are reminded of Joey hanging on to Ross holding on to one of the stairs for a reason I don't remember now.
Being in a big city can be scary, the fear of the unknown and the dangers lurking behind dark corners have always been there for me when I was in Delhi, although I have lived there for 5 years it's still an unknown place for me. But New York city, in a foreign land, with many a dark corners and alleys felt like I had seen it all and know exactly what to expect.
Just like one can have a deep connection with other people, one can also have connections with places. I connected with New york even before I had stepped foot onto its lands. May be I love it because I don't live it. May be I love it because it's one of the few places I have read and heard so much about yet it had not ended up disappointing me Yes it was exhilarating being there, it was like caffeine in my soul!
I once sat in a taxi in Calcutta some 3 years ago, from Southern Avenue to home around 7 p.m.. The radio station was playing smooth jazz sax- probably Coltrane. I am eternally grateful to the taxi-driver for not changing the station- in those 15 minutes I was transported to the Village and back. It is probably why I love Calcutta, because it is like New york or is it the other way round? I'll never know.

Durga Pujo and I

2010-10-13T10:39:00.005+02:00

I liked pujo because I like getting gifts, especially nice clothes. I remember a couple of pandal hopping experiences as a kid, that were all-night affairs. I don’t remember particularly enjoying them because pandal decoration and lightworks were elusive topics, I never liked crowded places and used to get very sleepy.

We used to make a customary trip to an old neighbourhood, where my grandmother was staying at the time, every Ashtami. We stood in long queues for bhog lunches, which I remember enjoying- not the wait but the lunch :)

Slowly that was also cancelled out as my grandmother had started living with us or it was too much of a trouble driving all the way to north Calcutta on a pujo-day. To be frank, I think we started not identifying with the people living there and a lot of the people we knew had either passed away or moved to a different place.

I also remember one year we drove to Puri. That was a very enjoyable trip and the Oriya protimas were amusingly cute to look at, not half as ostentatious as Calcutta ones.

We moved to Tollygunge which marked an end of a phase. We didn’t have a ‘parar pujo’,

My dad refused to go out into the crowd, so did I. So one night my mom and sister decided they would go pandal hopping in the area. This was a time when we used to go to 66 palli pujo beside my mamabari(kalighat) to give anjali. It used to be a coveted journey because my granny would cook awesome food for later. It used to be a ‘ekchala’ traditional simple pandal, now it’s an award winning designer one-- one year the protima was bought by an NRI. My grandma now lives with us. We have no reason to go there anymore.

For the last few years we’ve been having a ‘parar pujo’, it is simple but reassuring. I have gone back to give anjali and eat bhog and have a chit chat with the people. To hear the announcements and the priests’ chants from inside of our home is welcoming.

Last year I didn’t let myself feel bad, although I had come back from India one day before Pujo. But this year I have given up on the control over my emotions. I am missing it. I am missing dhaker awaj, dhunor gondho, the sweet autumn sun-shine, I am missing my family. I am missing walking with my dad around mudiali, lake place, shib-mondir, samaj sebi and ballygunge cultural.

Even if I am sitting inside my house doing nothing, not even particularly enjoying it, I want to see the pujo-chaos and prettily clothed people when I look out my window, because it means that everything is alright, just the way it is supposed to be.

Sharodiya priti o shubhechha to all my readers. Hoping that your pujo is slightly more exciting than mine :)

Hira-da

2010-10-04T09:52:00.003+02:00

We were very young almost 13 years ago when Hira-da joined as our driver. He was assigned to dad by Hyderabad Industries ltd. when he joined that company. Soon he became the best driver we had had. He knew roads and by-lanes and gullies in every part of calcutta. We discovered that he even had a photographic memory. He remembered someone's house we went to months ago and we only had to tell him ,"hirada, do you remember that place we went to the other day? you know in so and so area?... yes yes she is my aunt, yes, please take us there."
We could sit in the car looking out the window, not worried about giving direction because we knew we didn't have to.
With time he became more than our driver, he was trusted to help our grandparents in case we went on vacation. When ma left for the US, he had to take over a lot of her duties, like paying bills, helping the grannies with their bank work or taking them to relative's places. When dad was away at work he even had to take one of my grandmothers to the hospital because she had fallen ill. When my dad couldn't come out of a meeting Hirada would go and visit her at the hospital.
I used to go back home on vacations and try to steal hira-da away from dad, so I could go visit my friends.
Hira-da had been a soul of discretion, in cars we have fought and screamed and joked and laughed and talked about things that always stayed in the car.
Hira-da was in his early 40's when on the 30th of september 2010 he passed away in a tragic accident. He fell off a crowded train while going back home from work. My parents were called by the police at midnight and they had to go and identify him at the hospital because they couldn't get in touch with his family.
All of us who knew him, loved him. Everyone knew that life without Hira-da is unimaginable, I do not think anyone is as indispensible as him in our family. He was not a driver, he was a part of our family. And all we hope is that he knew how much he meant to all of us. We hope he did not suffer too much pain. We hope he was happy that day. Because he did not deserve to go that way.
Hira-da will always be in our hearts and will be missed everyday.
Rest in peace Hira-da.

"Wake me up when September ends"

2010-09-29T09:55:00.008+02:00

It has been raining since Saturday here, in Dresden. It's cold and shivery and very windy. Sitting by the window I can only think of one thing. The Dementors. The cold, grey and dismal atmosphere makes me think of dementors who have devoured the happiness out of the city. I am sure that J.K.Rowling 'conjured' up the character on one such dismal rainy period in London. It does get you rather depressed .
But then another thought flashed across my mind. On such a rainy day if I saw a girl in a Canary Yellow rain-coat wearing a bright pink lipstick walking down the sidewalk next to my house with a click-clack of her heels it would look rather cheery, wouldn't it? But no, people here wear only blacks and browns and beige and more blacks and hardly any lipstick.
When the Sahibs say that they found India extremely colourful I cannot agree more. People wear all sorts of colours in India, not just in the form of clothes but hoardings and buildings and cars. The Apartment building next to ours, in Calcutta is painted a royal blue with red borders. Now where else would you find a house looking like a 'naalambari saree'? I considered it quite ridiculous but on a day like today I would have loved to look at that house outside my window.
My favourite colours are Red and Purple, not necessarily in a combination. I would love to have a wall in my living room painted red, where I would put up framed black and white photos of the different cities I have been to, and then on these rainy spells I could just look at that wall and feel bright and sunny inside.
Of course the other thing one can do to make one's self feel better is to simply remember your favourite things, and if you do not have too many of those just listen to the song- "Raindrops on roses..."- even if you didn't know what crisp apple strudels were just the name will make you smile. When we went to Innsbruck, Austria nothing cheered me up as much as the sight of Apple Strudels at the bakeries because in a foreign land where everything was so new and 'foreign' I had found familiarity- something that had broken barriers and reached the homes of middle class Bengalis.
Of course, if the only song that buzzes in your head is 'Rainy days and Mondays always make me sad.." then there is only one thing that might help you, Xanax. Or you could wait and twiddle your thumbs till the clouds lift.
Don't you think, when the sun-rays find a crack in the grey clouds and rushes through to form a glittering pool on the wet streets- the infiltrated clouds look rather like the overcooked grey egg-yolks? Food for thought? No?
There is certainly one thing I envy in some people, their innate ability to look fashionable in extreme weather conditions. How one ends up looking absolutely ravishing on 3 feet snow or in body melting heat is beyond me- so cheers to them who wear yellow raincoats and knee length boots with 6 inch heels in flooding cities! Does a Burberry umbrella help?

Anybody Out There?

2010-09-27T08:25:00.007+02:00

Till a few weeks back I had lost faith in the entire species of Books. I was an avid reader. As my close ones know I read hoardings to 'shingarar thonga' but of late I was not coming across a single book that held my attention.
I started reading 'The Lost Flamingos of Bombay' by Siddharth Shanghvi and I gave up on it's fantastic randomness, I had loved his first book. I started reading 'The Time traveler's wife' by Audrey Niffenegger and it just confused me to hell so I had to stop. I even tried reading 'Eclipse' by Stephanie Meyer, needless to say I couldn't cope with it either. I was losing faith, the only ones I could still go on reading were Agatha Christies. My book rack which does not have many books is full of half and some quarter read books and a living proof of my failures in reading- anyone at this point would think me just plain 'slow'. Believe me, I have been debating that for a while now myself.
But wait, let's not jump to conclusions here- I had after all finished the Fountainhead, Atlas Shrugged and Gone with Wind by time I was in college. The problem I am sure lies else where.
The books are just not as good as they used to be. I try the intellectual Pulitzer winning writers and all I really feel is depression, I try the bestsellers and they are literally cringe-worthy, sometimes smirk-worthy. Even Sidney Sheldon's dead.
Then a friend suggested a few authors who are "interesting and non-tearing-my-hair-over-obscurantist stuff"in her own words. I still had my doubts and didn't do much about it.
Last week while roaming the book store , which for me consists of two low racks on the 1st floor of the shop that contain the English books and mostly has the Twilight and Harry Potter series, I did notice among them one of the authors that my friend had mentioned. I picked it up, said a little prayer in hopes that it will renew my faith in the act of reading and got myself a cosy little corner at Starbucks to start the process.
The book gods(or is it Saraswati? heh) answered my prayer; it was unputdownable! It was quirky and fun, smart and hip. It had me laughing then crying and then laughing again.
The book is called Anybody Out There by Marian Keyes, it is about an Irish girl who works in New York . The book opens with her in Ireland, recuperating from some sort of horrible accident and is wondering why her boyfriend hasn't even tried to get in touch with her. The book oscillates between flashbacks and present day and keeps you guessing while laughing till you get to the part where it breaks your heart. You cry and then can't help laughing through your tears again.
This book was like the 'chicken soup for the reader's soul,' it will definitely keep you warm when it's snowing outside and all you want to do is curl up, read and forget the world!

"...paths are made by walking"

2010-09-10T15:16:00.003+02:00

Walking has been one of the most fundamental and profound things of my life. As it is, to all who have the great fortune of being able to walk as a means to get from one place to another, I also consider it to be much more than just that, a means of transportation, it's my way of living life.
At the age of 10 when I finally started travelling home from school without an escort, I discovered that the stretch from the metro station to my home could be reached by walking in 35 minutes, even if I ended up spending my bus fare of Rs 2 on the roasted peas! At the time my ability to walk not only took me home but also made it possible for me to enjoy those unhygienic and very spicy roasted peas!
I have risen early to go for morning walks with my dad- I was the only one to accompany him to those at Victoria and later by the Lake. I would chatter away while walking, dad quietly listening while we walked. The sun not having quite risen yet and the mist over the lake would have cast an eeriness if only not so many people had been walking.
Since then I have walked miles with my sister and my to-be-brother-in-law on their dates. Yes, its true- I was the proverbial 'kabab mein haddi' and the dowry she took with her (quite literally)
Then came a time when ICSE was over and my very dear friend and I had to explore our new found independence. She was looking for a particular romance novel by Barbara Cartland, I think. So she had me walking all over central calcutta, from M.G. road to college street to new market to park street, phew!!! Needless to say we didn't find that particular book but picked up others.
The next stretch of walking came when I got my first boyfriend. As money was an issue back in my adolescence the cheapest thing for us to do was to walk. Those walks were usually in silence, mostly because there was nothing to be said and quite glad that those walks didn't go on for too long, it would've been utterly boring to have prolonged them.
As I was becoming an adult and moved out of home the walks became of a different nature. They became more exploratory. The paths treaded were unknown but adventurous, the walks were taken alone but awareness crept in. My thoughts became my companion.
I suddenly realized that I was walking in my confusion, in happiness, to clear my head of any webs. I was walking when I was relaxed and when I was in stress. I have walked in mere despair. I have taken decisions and resolved issues while walking.
I have walked miles with friends beside me, sharing their troubles or perplexities and vice-versa, we have laughed and cried. We ate ice-cream as well.
My friends and I have walked miles to buy paan because we had the bloody time to do it, walked across smelly bridges and near fatal road crossings because it was fun.
Even when I am sitting at home I go for walks... I can see myself walking under the shade of trees and playing hide and seek with the rays of the sun that sometimes blind my eyes and sometimes make my hair glisten. And the walk enlivens me everyday.

p.s. my favourite kind of walk is by the beach at night, when the moon is full.

If you don't mind, it doesn't matter!!

2010-09-03T23:26:00.003+02:00

Often we have heard the above quotation by Mark Twain but seldom have we come across the subject of it... "Age is an issue of mind over matter, if you don't mind, it doesn't matter."
In july I turned 25 and since then I have been slightly abashed about it, my age, that is. I have always been at ease about growing older, in fact, I have always looked forward to it. Being the youngest in the family I have looked forward to being taken seriously so age has never been an issue but suddenly I see there are film-stars, artists and authors who are younger than I am. Asudden, my husband has colleagues who are '85 borns. This had me searching for Kajol's age when she made DDLJ- would you believe it, she was 21? 4 yrs younger than I am right now? OMG! I am ancient- is what is going through my mind- right now there is a particular Shia LaBeouf who is famous and younger- or younger and famous! whatever!.
After these particular nerve wracking thoughts I got on my crosstrainer and decided I had to lose some 10 kilos I had gained since graduation.
Everything comes down to body image, lastly! I started comparing my agility with my 15 yr old self and realized I am not as supple and flexible as I used to be. But as a 15 yr old I'd thought I'd be a wine-taster at Napa Valley- look at me now, I am a full-fledged wine drinker and I have nothing to complain about!
Right when I stop thinking about my 25 yr old self I am reminded of my 54 yr old mother. She wrote her GRE at 46/47 completed her PhD at 53 and now a principal at a renowned school in India. What the hell was I thinking?! Did I not mention she was a teacher for 15 yrs prior to that?
Till I reach my mother's level of conviction I shall continue to work the crosstrainer and the wines (I hope)
I shall leave you guys with this one "Life's tragedy is we get old to soon and wise too late" - benjamin franklin!

My Very Own Roman Holiday

2010-08-11T11:12:00.006+02:00

We all know that Rome wasn't built in a day and therefore it is fair to say that it cannot be seen in one either. The truth is you need many many days to feel Rome. We were there for about 4 days last weekend and we merely skimmed through the city. Every street, every by-lane emanate the history and culture.
Although very crowded with tourists all year round it is easy to get lost in the aura of the city, you can sit in a corner of a piazza and forget that there are teeming millions around you, just absorb the fact that it is the exact same place which was the mainspring of western civilization.
Our hotel was tucked away in a quiet green area. 15 mins away from the bustle of the city. Everyday after filling ourselves up with the amazing coffee and cornettos we would go on our expeditions. Map in hand, camera slung over the shoulder we would be ready to explore. The first view of the Colosseum was awe inspiring, cars whizzing past a monument built when no one knew there could exist something like an automobile. As they say, Rome has one foot in the past and one foot in the present.
Beside a 2000 year old monument you will find an ultra-glam Hard Rock cafe. Which we also went to by the way.
At the Fontana di Trevi, who wouldn't want to relive La Dolce Vita scene by scene- with a 4 Euro worth of Gelato cone in hand we sat by the fountain and had a sense of fulfilment wash over me.
Then again, having watched Angels and Demons quite recently I wanted to follow Langdon on his trail, so the Pantheon, Piazza Del Popolo, Vatican city, Piazza Navona and Castel San't Angelo had to be covered. Yes there is a lane through the Castel leading directly to the Vaticani, and it is no secret unfortunately.
Surprisingly we saw Berlusconi on our way to Navona, he walked past us with bodyguards around him ; he was so close we could touch him but we just took a picture.
In 4 days we covered 4 types of cuisine- Authentic roman pizzas to african fair and biriyani to hamburgers. We had street food consisting of cotoletta di pollo(chicken cutlet) sandwiches and also went to a famous cafe called Cafe San't Eustachio (70 yrs old) where you stand at the bar and have your fill of caffeine. They make the most wonderful espresso, we bought a jar of coffee and a box of espresso filled chocolates as souvenir.
On Friday night we had plans of going to Hard Rock cafe for dinner but it was so crowded we ended up in an Italian trattoria called Gran Caffe Roma which is quite famous (everything in Rome is) and we each had a pizza with some italian beer. The seating was rather interesting on Via Veneto right beside Hotel Majestic, cars whizzing past and cool breeze ruffling our hair.
On saturday night we were to go to an Italian restaurant where they served food made from age old roman recipes on Appia Antica, we took a taxi there after we left the cab and went to the gate of the restaurant we saw that they were closed with no information except a phone number, when we called an answering machine said they were closed for holidays- we felt ,quite literally, stranded as it was a remote location- a cobbled narrow lane with high walls on both sides and only private cars whizzing past us. We started walking towards the city center, feeling dejected and lost. 10 mins of walking found us in front of a bus stop. Here we stood and decided to try out the African restaurant I had come across on the Lonely Planet website. So eventually when the bus came we hopped on and went to the african restaurant (conveniently called Africa) and we were not disappointed at all, there were many locals which is always a very good sign.
On Sunday again we had plans of trying out another famous Pizzeria at Trastevere called Dar Poeta. The Trastevere district is eclectic with a buzzing night-life, it's a network of winding cobblestone alleys each filled with small trattorias and pizzerias- with long queues outside. The food is reasonably priced and is frequented by students and tourists. Since we didn't get a place at any of these places, it was already 9 p.m. and our stomach was growling we went to an Indian Restaurant, the location was super- there was a busker playing the saxophone that drowned the santoor playing in the restaurant and it was bang in the middle of the Trilussa opposite the Ponte Sisto.
You must have understood by now that whatever we ate in this trip happened by chance, although we had addresses and informations on the restaurant we wanted to go to fate had other plans for us!
We did finish off the trip with Hard Rock cafe on Monday afternoon- said our goodbyes to the city of Rome and back in Dresden by night. What a whilrwind trip it was but loved every moment of it. 40 degrees in the sun, clear blue cloudless skies like the deserts and walking kilometers at a stretch. Our feet callused and ached, skin burnt under the sun and I think we would do it again!
Next stop Greece(Athens and Santorini) for christmas and new years. We are up for the real Greco-Roman experience, can hardly wait.

Atithi Devo Bhava!

2010-08-05T00:16:00.002+02:00

This is following my previous blog. This is to confirm that I had loadsa fun with my friend and her bf! They brought a really good Merlot and enjoyed what I had cooked. With a promise of an invitation to their place for some authentic spanish food the evening ended on a positive note. I also requested her to get me some Spanish saffron since she is going home next week.
You know what is better? For two years I have been sharing my husband's friends and I finally have my own friend in Dresden! What a comforting thought that is!

Almost Vegan

2010-07-30T21:28:00.004+02:00

So tonight I had to scrounge my refrigerator for possible dinner items. You know it is the end of the week and the pantry does lurk towards emptiness, not that I have a pantry and I would love to but that topic would take on an entire post of it's own, I suppose.
Anyway, so I found tomatoes, one eggplant, some mushrooms, potatoes and onions. Yes that is vegan and I had to use these before they met their end through rotting.
So I made and eggplant and potato curry-sorta-thing and some wild mushroom pilaf (thanks to anjum anand's book I own)

Ingredients (Eggplant Curry):
1. One eggplants cubed(small)
2. One large potato cubed(small)
3. One medium onion finely chopped
4. One large clove of garlic chopped
5 Onion seeds 1 tsp
6. 1 tsp cumin pwd, 2 tsp coriander pwd and half teaspoon turmeric pwd
7. One large tomato chopped

In 2 tbsps of cooking oil temper the onion seeds. Then fry the onions till golden brown and then add garlic. Add the seasonings, tomatoes and cook till oil oozes from the sides. Add eggplants and potatoes, cover and cook till tender, splashing water once in a while to prevent it from getting dry.
Sprinkle some coriander leaves if you have it.

Ingredients (Mushroom Pilaf):
1. One cup basmati Rice
2. some mushrooms( I used portobellos)
3. Half an anion finely chopped
4. whole garam masala and 2 bay leaves
5. Cumin seeds 1 tsp
6. salt to taste and 2 dried red chillies
7. broken raw cashews and some raisins

In 2 tbsps of cooking oil temper the cumin seeds, whole garam masala and whole red chillies. Add the chopped onions, cashews and rainins. Fry till lightly browned. Add the mushrooms, salt and garam masala powder. Fry for 4-5 mintues. Then add the rice and water. Cover and cook on low heat till done.

Note: If you soak rice for 30 mins in cold water you need 1 1/2 cups of water for 1 cup rice and if you do not soak rice then you need 2 cups of water for 1 cup rice.

Btw, I bought some Dorset Nagas or Bhut Jolokias as known in India, quite unassumingly. They are thought to be the world's hottest peppers. Don't know about being hottest but it sure as hell burnt my ears. Here I have taken a picture of it for you guys.

I wish I could say...

2010-07-15T13:43:00.003+02:00

I have been thinking of topics to write about for a long while, but nothing is coming to me. I am groping for words to keep myself afloat in the blog world! My English skills have been going from bad to worse mostly because I haven't read many good books lately, also the use of the language has been dwindling.

I am seriously at a loss for words lately, I happened to use 'precisement' in stead of 'precision' with a friend which was sadly shameful! But as it seems that precisement is actually french for precisely, with accents of course. Whatever! The fact of the matter is I am quite cross with myself for not doing anything about it.

So, on that note I want to start a discussion about randomness. You must have heard people say that life is a grand plan of the master above. I do not agree. There is absolutely nothing orchestrated about life, in a word it is the most random thing there is. We very often try to plan and manipulate situations and actions but most of us fail miserably.

Now don't get me wrong, I am not saying that you shouldn't have a plan but do not get upset when they don't work out. A plan is necessary to go by when the randomness hits. It should be used as a solution and not become the cause of a problem.

We are big planners. We plan (mostly travels) to the tee. We actually love to plan trips, they constitute 50% of the fun. Even if we actually don't end up getting there we have enough information and deals that can make a travel agency go out of business.

But we absolutely do not plan our life. Believe it or not, we have been in Dresden for two years and we still live in a fully furnished apartment. Every time I get tempted to move into an unfurnished one and get my own furniture and kitchen (unlike US we don't get kitchens fitted here) I think 'what if we don't stay here for long?' which of course means that we have no plan as to where we are headed.

The uncertainty can be worrisome at times but exhilarating. My only reason for being sad is that I don't have my choice of bed. I haven't had a perfect bed in a really long time. Since I moved out of home I have been laying myself in less than perfect beds; so when I stay at hotels the only thing I look for is a good bed, sometimes I wish I could take them home with me.

I like random, unlike the philosophical explanation of random being different from unpredictable I believe it IS unpredictable. I love random conversation; something that I wasn't expecting to talk about is random conversation and when I can immerse myself in it, I feel triumphant. When I can keep up with the randomness around me I am a star in my own mind!

Randomness is really all around us, as much as my writing this post now. I had absolutely no idea what I was going to write about and how it would end. I know now; quite randomly found.

I am going to end this with a random quote I just happened to come across and found to be an 'absolute truth' that no one can deny!

"There are few things so futile, and few so amusing,
As a peaceful and purposeless sort of perusing
Of old random jottings set down in a blank book
You've unearthed from a drawer as you looked for your bank book."
--- Amy Lowell

Long time no see!

2010-07-12T21:06:00.003+02:00

Back after 6 weeks or so I suppose.. hmmm... well what can one say-- use your imagination?
Been very busy shifting houses (with just the idea of it- did not do the real work); made efforts to collect my Masters degree but all in vain; really did try my hand at decorating new 'in-law' house, even got to choose the drapes (isn't that exactly why one should move to a new unfurnished house?); ate all the food I missed for so long, made mom spend hours in the kitchen!
Well a lot happened really- A broke his toe (don't ask me how, I still don't get it), met some friends after a long time, experienced Delhi heat after ages, celebrated our 2nd anniversary at Someplace Else (just us two, peanuts and beer) and watched movies. Oh! Indian movie theatres are sooooo goood. Why don't they make them like that here?
Anyway, enough of what I did. It's 38 degrees here in Dresden and they do not believe in air-conditioning, so they pick up any thing to fan themselves with. I literally had to sweat through my birthday dinner last night. All Eurotrash, I say!
Sangria, Paella, Spain, FIFA finals and birthday all in a day's work, for me, was! Although now I regret not having cut the cake. I should be hitting quarter-life crisis anytime now, have to be on guard but A believes I am still 'the young and the restless', as long as he keeps believing in that we can delay the arrival of his mid-life crisis!
Okay, I can't think of anything else to write... ... ... ... ... ... did you know it's almost 10p.m. and there's still light outside in these parts of the world? :-D

Ritzy Zurich!

2010-05-30T22:33:00.005+02:00

4.5 hours to go before we wake up to do a quick check of packed baggage and put in last minute items like toothbrush, make-up, etc.

We got back from Zurich late Friday night, so things have been slightly hectic. Zurich was hot and not-so-exciting! I am on no. 4 in my Tiffany-spotting (inspired by breakfast at Tiffany's)also for the first time I saw Louis Vuitton bags carried by regular people, 3 on the same day.

The city is a strange mix of German, French and Italian cultures. They are as curt as the Germans, as lavish as the French and as crooked as the Italians! They say 'guten tag' when you walk in, 'Merci' when you pay the bill and 'Ciao' when you leave! Now I shall decode these greetings to you- the first being 'whatever', second one is 'thanks for spending all that shit load of money on crap' and the third one means 'you're such a fool you don't even realize you have been ripped off'

Looking at how expensive the city is I wonder how much money Yash Chopra spends while shooting in these Locations!!!

Now, don't get me wrong, it's not that I hated the city. It's safe and hip and a very convenient city. On a clear day you can see snow-capped Alps against the blue-blue sky and pretty white swans in the sea. The parks are lush and green and streets are a beautiful mix of German and Italian architecture. The sloping back lanes with colourful Italian style buildings and tiny little restaurants with chairs laid out into the streets took me back to Venice and Florence. A couple of Museums (Rietberg and Kunsthaus), although tiny compared to MoMA/Louvre/MET, had some great collections and were very comfortable to be in because they were devoid of any crowd!

The vibrant hum of conversation and smooth-flowing wines was very different from where we live. The mix of cultures here have given way to a sort of fusion cuisine. The food was awesome albeit poverty causing.

Anyway, one probably has to say to themselves in a very DDLJ like manner ' ise bade bade deshon mein aisi chhoti chhoti baatein hoti rehti hai'

And now I only have 3.5 hrs left to wake up which means I have to sleep! Over and out.

All things 'Twilight'

2010-05-23T10:31:00.002+02:00

One day, a year and a half ago, I was sitting in my living room watching CNN. There was a feature about this book called Twilight written by some Stephanie Meyer on TV. They were just talking about the craze surrounding the book that is about a normal high school girl falling in love with a vampire and also that a movie is now being made based on this book. I didn't really care about it at the time, but the name stuck in my head. A few days later when I was scouring the 'fremdsprache'(foreign language) corner of the book store for some English books I came across Twilight. I thought to myself, "if it has become so famous it must be quite a thrilling book so why not pick it up"?

I had no idea what I was getting myself into. To be very honest, it was a very poor piece of literature. The characters are unnatural, of course, how can vampires be natural? But there was something, something that makes you want to find out what happens at the end. It's like an old fashioned harlequin romance with a vampire in stead of an arrogant, ruthless, manly man! And they are teenagers!!!

I just read a blog post on blogher.com by Rita Arens who read the book persuaded by her sister and this is what she wrote:

"So I actually did start reading Twilight, and, like my sister, I remembered the yearning that is high school romance. I remembered how exciting it was, but I also remembered how horrible it felt."

Her blog is basically about marriage and how true love that lasts 50 yrs is not the kind of love which constitutes The Twilight Saga.

There are some cultural differences that become very prominent in her comments.I am an Indian and I can say most Indian girls would not identify with any horrible feeling in High School unless they have anything to do with grades and assignments. There are very few Indian high school kids who go through experiences like 'yearning' for a boy. 80% of them do not even have boyfriends. Also there are many marriages in India that last 50 years provided the couple stays alive for so long. But who knows about love? Those couples who celebrate 50th anniversaries maybe hating each other for all you know.

Love is different for different people... the types of love can be as numerous as there are human beings.

Rita Arens quotes other women in her blog, one of them say that better conditioning in her teenage years could have prevented her from choosing a wrong man to marry.
I do not think things are that simple after all. People usually learn from situations that surround them. What attracts a girl to a particular man is difficult to understand, but if friends or family mention that they do not have a good feeling about the man or warns the girl, she will not believe them. Any amount of instilled morality or lessons in class will be forgotten when one is 'in love'.

Teenagers are surrounded by all kinds of media that denounce domestic violence, emotional abuse and infidelity, then how is it that educated girls get trapped with the wrong kind of men?

And if the man you marry is not really 'bad' in that sense of the word, only that there are compatibility issues then that is not something which can be corrected by any amount of conditioning and education.

Finally, I am of this opinion that if teenagers do not go through the slightest bit of yearning or the feeling that they are in love and nothing can deter them from it then as adults you remain with the inexperience of that feeling.

Love that constitutes of mutual respect, deep understanding and trust is a part that should come as a natural progression of a relationship but not before the yearning!

I am still mystified by the success of Twilight. It's a forbidden relationship, perhaps that is the reason. If I am to consider the vampire as a symbol of the wrong man, who can destroy you or kill you then the book sends out a very wrong message. But I suppose that is not what the author is trying to do. She probably doesn't even understand what she is writing about.

Trust me, stick to Harlequins and Silhouettes, at least it will help you increase your vocabulary.

Eat, Drink and Remarry

2010-05-22T00:27:00.008+02:00

If the reader is one of my parents- stop right here!!!

Wine rejuvenates the part of your brain that is involved in the artistic capabilities, in my case blogging, of course, if it can be considered artistic in any way.

After two glasses of alcohol, usually, I can be quite embarrassing but the good thing is that the listeners never remind me of that fact, usually they are pretty drunk themselves as well.

I am quite sure you have noticed the missing or too much of punctuations by now, I am usually quite cautious about not letting you know 'bout my spelling mistakes… backspace, type, backspace, type, backspace… aaargh!!!

Most of the times, in one of these wine parties I am the sole woman in a group of 5 or 6 men, 1 being my husband, 1 a Russian, the others I am not too sure about… oh! I definitely fake French kiss one, oh you naughty minds---not that kind of French kiss but on both cheeks kind of French greeting kiss!!!

By now you must be wondering what this post is all about. Nothing really thoughtful, just about all the fun that married women can have.

I have heard a lot of married women (mostly married men) say that they do not have all that fun and frolic they used to have when they were single. Well, I beg to differ!!!

When single women meet potential men they are usually measuring them, their facial proportions, then their IQ and then their wallets, or in another order of importance. Oh! The latest trend is ‘sense of humour’. I recently heard Taylor Lautner (if you haven’t heard of him you were defnitely buried under a rock) say that he isn’t quite so funny so the girl he dates has to have the ability to make him laugh. Lastly, we are trying to figure out whether he is available, as in, whether he is dating, has a serious girlfriend or is married.

If he is single, well and good, if he isn’t then we have to look for means to make him--- single and needy!!!

Now, the fun part about being a married woman!! When we go to parties or gatherings we aren’t judging all the men we meet. If he happens to flirt with us- we do not think about his wallet, if he gets us a drink-we are rest assured that he isn’t trying to get us into bed and if we really really like him we do not even have to think about the means of getting him single and needy--- he is working out all the ways to do it himself!

If you think you are not worth all that effort--- no worries, you are already married!!!

You have to give me some credit for writing this one--- all this even before I completed reading Sex and the City by Candace Bushnell, by the way it is highly recommended and very different from the HBO series!

It's just useless banter- I was missing blogging!

2010-05-20T20:05:00.003+02:00

I have to say I am quite frustrated with the grocery stores in Dresden. I have not found any green chillies and coriander leaves for 3 weeks now. Because of that I had to improvise on my simple fish curry and to my surprise it turned out really awesome. It's basically a cross between kalia and jeerer jhol.

Here's what I did.

I lightly dusted the fish pieces with turmeric and salt and kept aside for a while. Cut 2 medium potatoes, long and thick, then fried till lightly browned on all sides. Then I fried the fish pieces.

In the same oil I put some kalo jeera/kalonji/onion seeds, after the tempering I added 1 medium onion finely chopped. I put two pinches of turmeric powder, 1 tsp chilli powder, 2 tsps cumin pwder and 1 tsp coriander powder after the onion was well browned. At this stage I added a fine paste made out of 1 large tomato and 4 dry red chillies/shukhno lonka. Add salt. Fry it till you see little bits of oil oozing out unless, of course, you are not so health conscious and can actually see the oil separate!

The tomato and red chilli paste was really the main thing... it made the curry tangy,red and hot and added a really nice flavour. So then I added the potatoes and let it simmer till the potatoes were done. Lastly I added the fish and let it simmer on high for 5 mins before turning the heat off!

Off to Zurich next week and the following week to Kolkata. I am soooo sick and tired of this horrible, dark and gloomy weather that I am quite certain we have turned mildewed, and desperately need the scorching Indosun!

I shall have quite a bit to write about from India: one of my closest friends had a daughter a month back, my in-laws are moving to a brand new home, my mom's back in India for good after 7.5 years... yeah so quite a lot of excitement and lots of incidents that will be recorded just so they can be shared here! Stick around guys, you won't be disappointed!

Big Cities, New Impressions.

2010-05-07T16:34:00.002+02:00

I am a big-city girl. I hail from Calcutta, it is the 3rd largest city in India with a population of 15 million. In spite of that Calcutta has a small town feel to it when I compare it with the national capital, New Delhi and the commercial capital Mumbai.

In Calcutta, aunties stop you on the street to ask you what you were doing at the auto-stand at 7:30 p.m, in your uniform when you should be home and you meekly reply that you are just on your way home from the tuition and when a cyclist bangs on to you and knocks you down, the dadas, dadus and aunties rain down on him.

But oh so big Delhi had me whimpering like a child, never mind I was 18. The devil may care attitude and I-don't-give-a-damn sort of people made me feel insignificant and lonely. The new born adult learns to hold her own fighting through all the injustices of being felt up, duped by the auto-wallahs and the lewd commenter... the young ones grow older, come of age, some become ruthless and unsympathetic towards people who suffer the same fate

And then I went to Mumbai for a conference, my first time in this glamorous, cosmopolitan city, the city that truly never sleeps. I did not have a clue about this place. I travelled alone from TISS to bandra (w) to Goregaon to Lokhandwala and not once did I feel unsafe after the initial doubt. The autowallahs were polite, not assuming that I am a newcomer and attempting to rip me off. People were helpful, gave the correct direction when they knew where I wanted to go and surprisingly I didn't have to hear the 'ma-behen gaalis' even once throughout my little trip... how refreshing is that you ask? ANd then you think, I am still in India, I am still speaking the same language yet how different the two sets of people are!

Having been to some of the world's largest cities- NYC, Paris, Berlin, Delhi, Bombay and Calcutta, I have realized that multiplexes, multistoreyed car parks and gigantic shopping malls don't make a city, it is the people. I am also a big-city girl not just because I was born in one but also because I am most comfortable in a noisy, busy, disorderly big-city. When I have one bad day with rude people and misbehaving adults, the next day I have someone smile at me while they pass me in a restaurant and greet me at the shop or waive the bus fare (yes it really happened) and I develop newer impressions each time. Whoever said that the first impression is the last--- was so so wrong.

This post was suggested to me by a very dear friend who is, right now, on a mission impossible:

The heat and dust project:
"That there is a whiff of the languid about the title is the only saving grace. Because touring India in its glorious original season – the summer – is a certifiably insane project.

Here's the deal: India in a 100 days ( Make that 80- see Pilot) A life-altering journey*. On a tight budget. Make that, a v.v. tight budget. 500 a day as a matter of fact. For 2.

Please join her group on Facebook here and you will experience this insane project with them. You are welcome to contribute your experiences on their discussion boards.

"Kal-Boisakhi" written by Sajani Mrinalini Dutta

2010-04-22T20:06:00.002+02:00

I met her for the first time at Dipankar Basu's tuitions right before the ICSE exams. Hardly did I know we'd end up in the same school for 11th and 12th... and then stranger still I landed up at her place for geography lessons from her mother. She had many cats and a dog at her place. Nandini Mashi would quote Bonolota Sen while stroking the newest kitten Sajani picked up at some street. It would trample over our G.C.Leongs and atlas'. I always looked forward to evenings spent doing a bit of geography and learning much more than that.
Today she tagged me in one of her notes on Facebook and I just had to had to had to share this with my handful of readers. Bengalis beware, you might just need a tissue at hand.
Here it goes:
Kal-Boisakhi

Bharwaan Tamatar and the Kolkata Knight Riders!

2010-04-19T20:58:00.007+02:00

This one is dedicated to Kolkata Knight Riders and Dada. The team having played its last match of the league though did not qualify for the semi-finals they did manage to leave with their heads held high, and I applaud them for it. Also the week saw Tharoor (forced)resign, not a very good thing for Indian politics in my opinion but then we all have to accept the realities of our politics and country.
Anyway all the sad news apart, Anirban had to stay back at work for a longer time today due to some disaster management project coming up last minute and I had to fend for myself. Last week A brought home plump red tomatoes which looked gorgeous and I didn't feel like chopping them, left on my own I thought of making Stuffed Tomatoes the indian way, Bharwaan Tamatar in a creamy gravy, this being the first time I am quite proud of the way it has turned out.

What you need:
4 Large tomatoes- beheaded and emptied
2 large potatoes- boiled and peeled
a handful of mushrooms- chopped fine and/ grated paneer if you like
1/2 onion chopped fine and 2 onions grated
The gut of the tomatoes blended with a handful of cashews
whole cumin seeds
a few green chillies
garam masala powder
cumin powder
coriander powder
finely chopped ginger
some broken cashew nuts and raisins
Some fresh coriander leaves

For the stuffing
Heat 2 tbsp oil in a pan, add the cumin seeds and wait till they crackle, then add the chopped onion. fry till translucent then add some chopped green chillies, the chashew and rainins, chopped mushrooms, some of the chopped ginger, a pinch of salt and garam masala. Toss around till it is a soft mush. Add it to the boiled potato, adjust the salt and mash up, leave it a little lumpy so you can bite into some pieces of the potato. Fill the tomtoes. Rub in some oil on the outside of the tomatoes then put it in the oven at 150 degrees C. for about 10-15 mins, till the tomatoes are soft and you can see the skin getting slightly wrinkled or coming off the edges.

For the gravy:
Heat oil in a pan and add cumin seeds once they crackle add grated onion and green chilies. Once it is browned add the remaining chopped gingers. Now add turmeric, red chili, cumin and coriander powder. Saute for 2 minutes then add the blended tomato and cashew nuts. Cook this while frequently stirring. Add water according to your desired thickness of the gravy, adjust the seasoning then cover and cook till the sauce is ready. In the meantime if you have any extra stuffing left you can add it to the gravy.

Now place the tomatoes in a bowl and pour the gravy over it, garnish with coriander leaves and garam masala (I only use the sunrise shahi garam masala that comes in tiny boxes anything else tastes like saw dust to me )

It does not take much time I noticed, the hard part is taking all the stuff out of the tomato still keeping it in tact.

I hope you enjoy cooking and eating it.

No Excuse

2010-04-11T12:37:00.009+02:00

I have been MIA for a while, I have no excuses for this really just that I have been watching the IPL and chanting 'go dada go' only to be disappointed almost every time. Yesterday's loss for KKR has me back on blogging again. SO... we now own a new DSLR camera which is my newest plaything, during the Easter weekend we went to this castle and park to do some photography. Here are some of those pics. hope you enjoy.

Main aur Meri Tanhayee Aksar yeh Baatein Karte hain...

2010-03-10T23:33:00.006+01:00

As children when parents went out we abandoned our propreity. We stopped studying and picked up the TV remote or the telephone. We had the music on full blast, it was party time and had long chats with friends over the phone, quickly hanging up as we sensed the parents coming home; picking up the abandoned text book and pretending to concentrate. Or perhaps quickly switching off the TV and pretending to be in deep slumber. Parents were pretty clever too, they would touch the TV to see if it was warm, evidently it had been running. They wouldn't really scold but all that evasiveness was quite fun.

Tonight the husband is not home, but it isn't half as much fun... hmmm whatever!!

p.s. ahh just remembered there are a coupla bottles of beer in the fridge--go dig!

An Education

2010-03-08T15:53:00.003+01:00

I watched An Education today, a period, coming of age, drama which recently had quite an Oscar buzz about it. Set in the 1960s London, it tells the story of a teenage school girl(Jenny) from a conservative background and how she discovers the of essence of life and love. And it makes the viewers look at the theme of education from different perspectives.
Pushed by her parents to do well in school so she can be accepted to a college in Oxford University, she meets an older man(David) unexpectedly one day who introduces her to the finer things of life; jazz, cafes, art, music and Paris. Her parents are taken in by David and loosens up in their ways with Jenny. Her grades slowly slip and finally she does not take her school final exams but in stead decides to marry David.
One evening on their wat to a restaurant Jenny discovers a shocking truth about David which turns her life upside down. She blames her parents for not stopping her, she says "You are my father again, are you? What were you when you encouraged me to throw my life away? Silly school girls are always getting seduced by glamourous older men but what about you two?"
What I loved about the movie is that though it's a movie based on an autobiographical book by journalist Lynn Barber, it might as well be any girl's across any time period. It resonates with you; as a teenager, as a parent or even as the seductive glamourous old man, his friends who knew all along what was happening but never thought of warning her or even the wronged wife! You could be any of those characters and you will identify with them, you will be reminded of someone who you knew was one of them. Also we need more parents like in the movie, not that they should be taken in by these sort of men but more inclusive in their children's lives, parents who accept their mistakes in stead of standing there telling you you were wrong, and who can try to make it alright.
It's real and believable and full of hope. It's a beautiful movie about real education which includes both the formal institutions of education as well as what we call life as an educator.
So Jenny finally went to oxford and this is what she says in the end "One of the boys I dated, and they were boys, suggested that we go to Paris and I said I'd always wanted to see Paris. As if I'd never been!"
It's a real treat so watch it if you get a chance.

And when white moths were on the wing

2010-03-03T15:01:00.002+01:00

The best thing about good movies are that no matter how many times you watch them there's always something new that you had not noticed the previous times. It's like peeling an onion only much more pleasant.
This time it's The Bridges of Madison County : Robert and Francesca discuss Yates and a while later Francesca goes and pastes a note on the side of the bridge, I could never read what was written on the note because it fades away to quickly. This time I paused to read it, it had a quote from The Song of Wandering Aengus.
Aengus is an Irish Mythic character and "probably a god of love, youth and poetic inspiration" and Robert Kincaid is of Irish descent. I think there was a connection made with that poetry and the story of Kincaid. He is an old man and finally found the woman he has dreamt of all his life, tired of all the wandering a being a "citizen of the world" he wants to settle down with this woman but he can't have her.
It's a beautiful movie and Yeate's poetry is wonderful as well. The movie is full of beautiful dialogues and descriptions, watch if you haven't already.

I went to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

Francesca: I was acting like another woman yet I was more myself than ever before.
Robert: This kind of certainty comes, but just once in a lifetime.

Benimadhab Benimadhab

2010-03-01T14:29:00.003+01:00

Never in my worst nightmares have I ever imagined writing anything titled "Benimadhab Benimadhab". Bengalis who listen to modern bengali music must have already guessed what this could be about but I have a story to share.
Didibhai used to listen to a lot of music, especially the radio back in the late 1990s. So naturally I had to listen to a lot of music she liked. She was the one to introduce me to all kinds of music that I associate my memories with.
I never quite liked the bengali songs she would listen to. Anjan Dutta and Suman and Nachiketa, the cult music of the time. I was too young to appreciate it, I never understood what they were singing about. Today I can appreciate them even if they aren't my preferred choice of music and I believe not my didibhai's either.
It has been more than a decade since Lopamudra's famous song Benimadhab aired for the first time on FM. Didibhai bought the cassette but I failed to understand why such a funny old-fashioned name has to be in the song. I never even tried to listen, to a 10 yr old the song was elusive, I would fall apart laughing every time I heard the word Benimadhab... and I would sing along: "Benimadhab Benimadhab amar beni bandho.."
Today while checking my Twitter updates I came across a link posted by Shubha Mudgal for the article she wrote in Mint. She wrote about Lopamudra's singing (I always thought she had a beautiful voice, even if I didnt like her songs) and that when she sang Benimadhab to a largely non-bengali audience and got a standing ovation at a concert! (She performed at Baajaa Gaaja 2010- music expo in Pune organized my Shubha Mudgal)
I started scouring the internet for some of her more recent work and came across a Folk song album Chhata Dhoro (another song I was familiar with as a kid- coz didibhai sang it at some competition).
Lopamudra's voice sparkled, it felt like she was singing softly for my ears only. Powerful, mellifluous and as expressive as one can be.
I looked for her live performaces on Youtube and found one of her singing Benimadhab, I played it and listened with intent, I choked up and before I knew it I had tears rolling down. What poetry and what a voice. I like Joy Gowami- I loved Jara Bristite Bhijechilo and the poetries in the movie Shob Choritro Kalponik, I like him a little more now.

Benimadhab, Benimadhab, tomar bari jabo
Benimadhab, tumi ki aar amar katha bhabo
Benimadhab, mohanbanshi tomal tarumule
Bajiyechile, aami takhon Maloti iskule
Deske bose anko kori, chotto classghar
Baire didimonir pashe didimonir bor
Ami takhon nabam shreni, ami takhon sari
Aalap holo, Benimadhab, Sulekhader bari.

Benimadhab, Benimadhab, lekhaparay bhalo
Sahar theke berate ele, aamar rang kalo
Tomay dekhe ek doure paliye gechi ghare
Benimadhab, aamar baba dokane kaaj kare
Kunje oli gunje tobu, futeche manjari
Sondhyebela porte bose anke bhul kari
Ami takhon nabam shreni, ami takhon sholo
Bridger dhare, Benimadhab, lukiye dekha holo.

Benimadhab, Benimadhab eto diner pare
Satti balo, sesab katha ekhono mone pare?
Sesab katha bolecho tumi tomar premikake?
Ami kebal ekti din tomar pashe take
Dekhechilam alor niche; apurbo se alo
Sweekar kari, dujankei maniyechilo bhalo
Juriye dilo chokh amar, puriye dilo chokh
Barite ese bolechilam, oder bhalo hok!

Rate ekhon ghumote jai ektolar ghare
Mejher upar bichana pata. jyotsna ese pare
Aamar pare je bon chilo, chorapather banke
Miliye geche, janina aaj kar sange thake
Aaj juteche, kaal ki habe? - kaler ghare sani
Ami ekhan ei paray selai didimoni
Tobu aagun,Benimadhab aagun jwale koi?
Kemon habe amio jadi nasto meye hoi?

Benimadhab Live by Lopamudra

Reminiscing Calcutta and Egg Chicken Roll

2010-02-07T21:11:00.008+01:00

Last weekend Anirban mentioned ad nauseum that he was going to make egg chicken rolls with the Chilli Tortilla wraps we picked up from one of the aisles at the grocery store. Fed up of his nagging I took upon the project as I was doubtful of his culinary dexterity.
While drawing up a plan in my head of how to go about making this dish as I hadn't in a really long time I triggered my memory of hoti kati roll on Park Street. The juicy chicken tikka pieces wrapped in crispy paranthas smothered with strange sauces and mustard melted in my mouth... mmmm... just the thought of it made me crazy hungry so late Sunday afternoon we went to the kitchen together arguing about what to and what not to put in the chicken... finally I did shut my husband up. But now he has started the nagging again!!! Think I have to make it this week too!

Here's the recipe!
Egg chicken roll - makes 4 wraps

Tortilla wraps or home made flour paranthas-4 (I used chili tortilla)
boneless chicken -400 gms (thigh pieces preferred)
Onion-1
tomato-1
eggs-5
flour/cornflour- 1.5 tsp
green chillies-2
ginger-garlic paste-1 tsp
breadcrumbs- 1 tbsp
Cumin powder-1tsp
whole cumin-1tsp
tandoori masala- 1 tsp
ketchup/mustard optional

Cut chicken into small cubes and mix with ginger-garlic paste, salt, chilli powder, cornflour, 1 egg and the breadcrumbs and tandoori masala. Once thoroughly mixed shallow fry them. Don't overcook them as this makes chicken dry and fibrous- it's important to keep them succulent and juicy.
When the chicken is fried transfer the excess oil and in the same pan add some whole cumins and let them splutter for a second before adding the onion. When they become translucent and slightly caramelized add the cumin powder, green chillies, tomato and some salt. Once the tomatoes are tender add the chicken and mix well. Put aside. Whisk the eggs together or separately and add some egg on the pan like making an omelette and put the tortilla wrap/parantha over it, cook till the egg is cooked and stuck on the paranthas. Flip and cook the other side. Remove and put the chicken on it in a single line- add some ketchup or mint yoghurt chutney, wrap it and secure with a toothpick.

The Last Tango in Paris

2010-01-22T01:33:00.003+01:00

Finally the post about our trip to Paris... I have been waiting for months to write this one, but now that it's time I really can't begin to talk about it and I am worried that if I start I wouldn't be able to stop.
It was jut 5 days we spent there over the new years but it feels like we were living there for ages. Memory is starting to fade and I don't want to delve too deep in fear of an overwhelming crave to go back.
After much praying to Caillech (goddess of weather) we reached Paris safely albeit with a delay of 3 hours. Very tired after a day spent at stations and airports we started our journey to the hotel from the Airport. A train to a particular metro stop and then hop on another line to reach the hotel stop. Old matchbox carriages, too many stairs at the stations, quite dirty too but one look at the Eiffel tower all lit up in the evening (from the train) one can forget all the inconveniences. I just stared wonder struck, am I really in paris? am I seeing this in my dreams? All tiredness just seemed to flow out of me... I was ready to explore.
The thing about Paris is that it has been glorified in too many movies and books, all the travel channels do features on it ad nauseum and then you hear people say that its a dirty old city, nothing great about it, has all the problems of a large city, there's so much poverty and bla bla bla!
So with a mixture of the glorifications and the let downs you are in doubt. You fear the Seine wont be like the one you saw in Anastasia or it wont be as mysterious as in Da Vinci Code, the Notre-Dame wont have Quasimodo in it and the Sacre-Couer wont be the most beautiful sight like in Sabrina.
Well, let me tell you that those thoughts are sacrilegious. Paris is the city of lights, love and so much more. Don't ever listen to someone who says "it's not that great" or "I don't know why people make such a fuss about the city" because they just don't get it and are jealous of everyone else who understand and love the place.
We were out there in the biting cold, all the trees were almost bare, our teeth were chattering, and it even rained but with all the negatives of the weather the weirdest thing happened, a busker played La Vie En Rose on his harp at the Sacre-Couer and I recorded it on my camera without realising that it doesn't record the sound. I actually smiled and I did feel the warm gushy feeling one feels at spring time.
Another site to behold was when the ascending escalator took us out of the metro station at the Arc de triomphe stop, you can see the monument come to view slowly as you move up-- oh well I almost tripped- it was the best that getting off an escalator can be!
Paris is very cosmopolitan and tourism is a very important industry so it is very easy to deal with people if you are polite and patient and say Merci often. French food is delicious and expensive, and the people who serve the food may come across as people with an attitude problem, believe me, they are not deliberately trying to be rude or snobbish it's just the way they are and after a while you will stop feeling offended!
Walk around the city, feel the wind in your hair, see the fashionistas on Champs Elysees, stroll through the Tuileries and take a boat ride on the Seine. And I too recommend The Louvre as one of the things to do before you die.
As Hemingway said "Paris is a movable feast" the experience will live with you forever. I have luckily seen a few of the famous cities of the world, all beautiful and unique and different but it is New York city, Bombay and Paris that I want to go back to again and again and again.
As a child I never knew I would be able to visit these beautiful places, they were just dreams. My wish for travelling was answered long ago as my parents love it too and provided me with the opportunity to see some of the beauties of India.
I will say to whoever wants to see the world, grab it with both hands and legs at the slightest opportunity. It will not disappoint you.

P.S. What people fail to mention is that Paris is the city of stairs- fix your knees and back before you plan to go!

Winter Wonderland

2009-12-25T11:12:00.004+01:00

We make memories of everything we come across as children and then we use and reuse them as we get older. We made the good and the bad associations with little things that decide whether we want to do/feel them again or not in our adulthood. This is called cognitive psychology that get's built very early on in life. Explanation of that will get very dry and boring if scientific language is used, I have a better way of explaining it, through the language of Gastronomy.
Very often we associate life's happenings with the food that was available to us at a point in life.
We Bengalis have great associations with all seasons of the year, whether it's mangoes or kanthal (jackfruit), patishapta or narkel naru(coconut laddoos), ilish mach(hilsa) or kankra(crabs), they all herald a different time of the year.

Winters in Calcutta happen only for a limited time and as such they are associated with picnics in parks around the city, a lot of badminton and a trip to the Zoo if there are any children involved. Christmas is of rum-soaked plum cakes and christmas carols. Maybe a trip to St. Paul's Cathedral along the way! Calcuttans have a strong relationship with christmas probably due to the strong catholic/protestant missionary school system that still exist there and the existence of an anglo-indian population.
My association with winter is my maternal grandparents house, after-meal oranges peeled by her under the winter sun, warm laichangphi (east indian blankets)to huddle under and her pink creamy cauliflower stew. Cauliflowers are winter vegetables, but are now available all year round, even some years back we used to wait for winters so we could eat cauliflowers. Didun made a stew with cauliflowers, potatoes and peas that warmed our stomachs. But thinking about it now it warms my heart too. She also made fish curries with cauliflowers that tasted heavenly. We always binged when we visited her. If asked what different she had done with her meals that ours never turn out quite like hers she would say she sprinkled some love powder, but we think she dipped her little finger in the bowl of food and that changed everything.
Although her health doesn't allow her to cook anymore we still get to call her and ask for the age old authentic bangali recipes!
After moving to Delhi during college winter meant teeth chattering cold and faulty heaters. But it also ushered in the era of adrakwali chai and hours of chattering away. The fire urns at Mocha in GK 1 tempted us more often than not and we ended up spending hundreds on the teas there.
Now the winters are of snow, Mulled Wine, Eggnogs and Krappelchen. And I will miss this as I miss my stew and adrakwali chai when I leave here, if I leave here.
But the memories keep stocking up, I carefully take one out of it's place and reminisce, once it has made me nostalgic enough I put it back in it's place.

Here's the recipe for the stew.

Ingredients

Cauliflower-1
Potatoes -2
tomatoes-1
Peas- couple of handsful
oil- 2 table spoon
some cardomom and cloves(optional)
salt sugar and pepper for taste
flour-1/2 tablespoon
some milk

Procedure:

Halve medium sized potatoes cross-section wise and pressure cook it till just done. Cut cauliflower into big florets and boil them separately in salted water (water should be enough to make the broth of the stew) till just done, al dente; add some tomatoes quartered and peas too (cardamom and cloves are optional)- keep them aside.
In a wok heat up some white oil (lower the heat so that the flour doesn't change its color radically) and add white flour to it add a pinch of salt and pepper stir them all in and start adding milk and/or water stirring continuously so it does not form any lump but a smooth white sauce. Add the sauce to a big pot with all the cooked vegetables and broth. Bring it to a boil stirring continuously so that the sauce blends and you get the desired thickness. Add sugar, check for salt, sugar and pepper for taste. Add a dollop of butter just before serving it piping hot.

Dont forget to sprinkle your own brand of love powder or dip that little finger before serving your loved ones

Details of recipe- courtesy Mom!

Merry Christmas!

2009-12-24T15:15:00.006+01:00

Christmas should be a time of banked-up fines, the scent of flowers and wine, good talk, good memories and loyalties renewed. But if all else is lacking - love will do.

The Lights and the Stillness and the Moon

2009-11-27T19:16:00.010+01:00

'When the friends are gone, when the party's over
We'll still belong to each other'-- Shakira 'Underneath you clothes'
You must be thinking I've got a very cheesy taste in music, but well
this what I was reminded of when I took the picture last night.

Dresden city centre bus stop at 10:30 p.m.

The moon!

Inside the Centrum Galerie

Just fascinated with the tree braving out Fall and managing to get some new leaves out

The Lights I saw from far away, the other end actually!

Starry Starry Night

2009-11-27T10:38:00.008+01:00

We walked to the city last evening. It's about 4 kms from home but I felt like it. We walked hand in hand through the dark crisp coolness at a leisurely pace.

The path to the city is quite dark apart from the occasional street lights and car headlights that zoom pass, we also have to cross a bridge that passes over the railway lines, that bit can get especially windy but last night was mild. You can see the grand structure of the main railway station at a distance as you walk over the bridge.

As we approached the city centre I was struck by the sheer brilliance of the light that emanated from there. Here we were walking in the stillness of cold november dusk, slightly introspective and a little glum but the approaching light in a flash changed the tone of the evening. I wasn't feeling cold anymore. It was warmth and happiness and energy that impressed upon me.

The closer we got more Christmas decorations came into our view. The shopping malls had been decorated brightly. The air and the ambiance were luminous and scintillating. The Christmas Striezelmarkts were in their usual places again with the carousels, the candles and Dresdner Christollens. The spice of Gluhwein (mulled wine) and sweet sweet smell of sugar dusted crepes filled the air.

I am so grateful to whoever came up with the idea of camera in a cell phone because I captured some of the brilliance. The lights and the stillness and the moon.

But what I couldn't catch were the stars. When we walked back from the bus stop to home I happened to look up. It was one of the clearest skies I'd ever seen. The sky was dotted with millions of stars, some of them clustered together and some lone stars. If I was good at identifying constellations I would've drawn a few pictures in the sky, but I am no good at it so only gazed awestruck till we reached home.

I shall post a couple of photos of last night as soon as I download them on my laptop. For now we can stay content with Vincent Van Gogh

Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.

For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life, as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you.

---Don McLean

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-mPBUKcn4Gs&feature=related

p.s. we watched New Moon in the theatre last night... Bad movie but I like Kristen Stewart. And since I had read Twilight even before the movie came out, I think I will just go out and get the third book in the series 'cos I am going to watch the movies anyway.

'La Dolce Vita'

2009-11-25T23:55:00.009+01:00

Disclaimer: nothing to do with Federico Fellini or Mastroianni!

“Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love, the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.” - Carrie Bradshaw- An American Girl in Paris: Part Deux! (Sex and the City)

I have never known what I wanted out of life except that I wanted it to be easy. Now that certainly isn't something that happens; easier than others' can happen but never really easy!
I always have an answer for the things I do not want to do but it's been quite difficult coming up with a list of all the wants. So I have a question, how does one go on a journey of self discovery?
Do you literally GO on a journey or do you just go through life and at the end of it you shall have all your answers? Well I don't want to wait till the end and I want to get out of my confusion but somehow the confusion feels refreshingly liberating. It springs on my mind the endless possibilties of life.

I know I can't do some things, yet some that I can and then there so many things that I haven't even tried. I should seize the opportunity, but what are the shackles that bind my mind? I can only think of Dido in this moment of self discovery...

"While I am so afraid to fail so I won't even try
Well how can I say I'm alive
if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy
Well I deserve nothing more than I get
Cos nothing I have is truly mine"

Book of Love

2009-11-17T23:53:00.005+01:00

On the week days, when my husband is at work, I find various ways to keep myself pleasantly entertained. I love reading but I seem to to be doing less and less of it because I hate the silence when I am alone, I need some noise so I end up watching interviews and concerts of various kinds on the internet and watch a lot of movies.
I find movies very interesting, I like watching all kinds from serious artsy kinds to horror and gore. I watch the good movies as well as the bad ones. I enjoy the expression of this particular medium, very different from novels but equally enjoyable. Unlike books movies attract a larger crowd and reaches out to all sections of the society. They bring to the mass an idea, any idea and can be highly influential.
Now this post has nothing to do with a lesson in media studies and society rather it's just about a song I fell in love with called Book of Love. It's probably a very old song but I heard the Peter Gabriel version of it on the soundtrack of the movie Shall we Dance.

I found the movie to be very heartwarming and funny. I also like Beverly Clark's explanation of why two people marry : "We need a witness to our lives. There's a billion people on the planet... I mean, what does any one's life really mean? But in a marriage, you're promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things... all of it, all of the time, every day. You're saying 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness."
You agree or you disagree it's certainly food for thought!
And yes, you are right, I am a romantic.

So here are the lyrics of the song:

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing
But I
I love it when you read to me
And you
You can read me anything
The book of love has music in it
In fact that's where music comes from
Some of it is just transcendental
Some of it is just really dumb
But I
I love it when you sing to me
And you
You can sing me anything
The book of love is long and boring
And written very long ago
It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
And things we're all too young to know
But I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
And I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
And I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
You ought to give me wedding rings

Book of Love

I wish it would Rain

2009-10-29T19:23:00.002+01:00

The heavy downpour blurred the windscreen of her car; she turned up the wiper a notch. Heavy traffic always irritates her but the streets of Calcutta turn dysfunctional every time the sky breaks up, it was no new feat! Through all the maneuvers the car had to come to a standstill. It had been raining all day and it felt like the darkest nights had descended at 3 p.m., the street lights have already been turned on, orange against the dark grey.
Although city life comes to an almost standstill with the monsoon rains, people inside their homes secretly enjoy it, people on the streets mutter curses under their breaths but once safely inside they order hot cups of tea and beguni or Khichuri and ilish maach bhaja because it’s the perfect weather for it. The affluent love to sit with their glasses of single malt, read aloud rabindranath or hum raga desh.
Maya was unusually lost in her thoughts today, she seemed oblivious of all the honking and chaos around her...

Naah... am not good at writing fiction, whenever I start it always heads in the direction of a cheap MB style story only that I can never come up with interesting enough twists and misunderstandings. For example, if I continued in the direction my last paragraph was treading I would either end up writing about some nostalgia that the protagonist would have about her lost love or bump into some handsome hunk in the rains! How trashy the readers would say, right?
So, happy with my visions of Calcutta and it's rains I am also starting to fantasize about pakodas and adrak-wali chai, bestowed on me by Delhi. Rains were far and few between in Delhi, but when it did oh yes, it poured! In Calcutta I never quite enjoyed getting wet in the rains cos it was always mucky and humid also the only opportunity of getting wet in Calcutta was on the way back from school and the white school uniform didn't help much!!
Whereas in Delhi rains cooled those dreadfully hot days and the smell when the raindrops hit the earth produced one of the most beautiful fragrances that exists in the natural world. I don't think there is a phrase to describe this smell in English, but in hindi the 'sondhi sondhi khushboo' is just so apt and does total poetic justice to it. And we loved getting wet in the rain, somehow it always made me feel like a film star thanks to bollywood and the actresses getting wet in their white/red chiffon sarees.
Rains also do wonders to one's moods- it can make you sad, romantic, cheerful but it never fails to create the ultimate atmosphere for an 'adda'. Gorom cha, makha muri and lots of chatter against the pitter patter of rain and if someone has a guitar a couple of tunes aren't too bad either.
I shall recount a fairly recent memory of the rains in calcutta, and by recent I mean about 10 years ago; It was a weekday morning and it had been raining since the wee hours, when such rains happened we always wished and hoped that the school would declare a rainy day holiday, very hesitantly we got ready for school and got into the car... on the way we saw heavily water-logged streets and prayed harder for the holiday. My prayers were answered and dad drove me back home. Once home we all someone convinced my dad to bunk his work too (still don't know how he got convinced) so mom made khichuri for lunch, we all goofed around enjoying a Sunday-like experience and watched a very cute movie called Corrina, Corrina on T.V. I am really scared of storm and thunders but my parents just love it, especially my dad who likes watching the storm so he took me to the terrace to show how beautiful the skies looked and how the trees swayed but I screamed and ran back in to the apartment!
Dad says that if on an important day it rained then it was auspicious because on all the days when good things had happened to him it had rained and somehow I was born on a rainy day during the peaks of monsoon in Calcutta and I also got married on a rainy day, so I have great associations with the rain too.
Sometimes they are a source of irritation especially during cricket matches! But that apart I love them as long as I don't have to be on the streets.

It rains in Dresden everyday, I wish it would Rain!

p.s. I have a long association with the photograph as well, it was on my very first yahoo profile ages ago. Whoever clicked it many thanks to him/her.. I titled it jara bristite bhijechilo

Jawani Diwani

2009-10-05T09:30:00.006+02:00

"In the cookie of life, friends are like chocolate chips"
This post is a dedication to all my friends, from the one with who I clapped hands and sang 'oh, miller, caterpillar...' to the one who had to hear out all my headache causing banters. I love you all!!

A couple of evenings back I had a chat with Ipsita and I asked her to suggest to me a topic on which I could write a new post as my mind was quite blank. After a couple of them she suggested why not write about the two years that we spent at the hostel during our M.A. degree course. It suddenly struck as a wonderful opportunity to write an ode to friendship and that amazing time of our lives called youth. Now Ipsita completely rejected the term youth but just to clarify my point I would like to digress and say.. persons b/w 15 and 24 are the youth according to United Nations General Assembly therefore next year we all become 'god-knows-whats' as we shall all turn 25, so is this not the best time to recount our jawani spent with friends?
The Beginning
To start right from the beginning, 5/6 of us sat in an open foyer with big files on our laps, looking glum, morose and scared. It was the interview day for admissions to the Delhi University hostel called North Eastern Student's house for Women(NESHW). While waiting for our turn we were all getting quite restless, and from the corner of my eyes I looked at one of the girls who had a very familiar face.
In one of my restless moments I got up and paced outside when this girl came up to me and asked, 'are you bobo's friend'?, yes yes I am, where have I seen you? Oh in Rajdhani a couple of years ago, I am sorry I dont remember your name, Poulomi, hi I am Deepanjana.. great, so what are you studying?' bla bla and the conversation continued.
In a couple of hours we got to know that all of us had got admission to the hostel and feeling relieved we went back to our respective PGs or friend's houses where we were putting up temporarily.
Semester 1
Within a week or so of the interview we shifted to our new hostel and got busy unpacking and cleaning, taking time getting used to a new place. Being a bengali it was always a relief to meet other bengalis around us. Poulomi had the room bang opposite mine and we became fast friends. At dinner time we met a few others and we got down to chatting. Poulomi and I discovered there was another bengali girl, sitting quiet and meek, Ipsita, straight from Calcutta. Oh how that was fodder to us virtuosos of Delhi, we took her under our wings and started our preaching. Poor dear girl, I don't even have the guts to ask her now how she had felt during those formative years of her adult life or Caterpillar to Butterfly should I say?
We were a group of 7 and soon a birthday ritual started among us, birthday girls would take us out to dinner and we would collectively give them gifts and cakes. Some of them were more receptive to this idea others were a little weary. At times around birthdays our exam routines clashed and bickering would ensue. With time we even got over that and would adjust dinner dates according to everyone's convenience.
Now Poulomi living closest to me would come over to my room any time and we would chatter away late in to the night, during one such chat sessions we decided to organize a booze party to get all the booze virgins drunk. We got a bottle of vodka, from where I dont remember and also a quarter of a bottle from a friend couple who rented an apartment right opposite to our hostel. And got the girls into my room. One of the girl didnt drink soft drinks so she announced she would be having it neat,and Ipsita was highly disillusioned with alcohol for being such a nasty smelling, foul tasting thing! After all the ruckuss, loud music some dancing and a lot of laughter some of them left except poulomi and sujata!
And Then the crying started... Poulomi of all people drifted into the world of nostalgia with a song that reminded her of her father, oh my god... We replayed the song at least a dozen times with poulomi sitting in a haze with tears streaming down her face! Sujata joined. What do I do? WHat do I do? nothing apparently.. just watch them cry! Sujata was feeling sick, "I had 12 jalebis at dinner," she announed.. OMG she was about to throw up! Ashima, Help!
The night cannot be forgotten... of dirty jokes,bar dancers and cry babies!
Semester 2
We got new microwaves and hot water dispensers installed in each floor at alternate wings so suddenly everyone had become quite mobile and we were visiting other floors and wings and we started mingling more often. By this time some of got closer while others got a little distant. We had made our new best friends! We would go to Ipsita's room which had a lot of sunshine during winters and huddled under the blankets chatting away or studying for exams and sometimes just for an afternoon nap under the sun! And a year passed by.
Semester 3
Next year when we came back from our vacations we chose new rooms, poulomi was next to me now, Ipsita on the same floor and I was certainly more serious about my classes that semester. The third semester went on smoothly, met a bunch of statisticians, thanks to Poulomi, and we all made new friends. We were hanging out together more frequently and started to visit the men's hostel for the food at their cafeterias(we didn't have one)! Ipsita was much more receptive by this time, she would down a vodka without much coaxing and dance some too. Wow, we were really having a great time, got good grades and were plump with satisfaction (or was it momo's point), CHandni chowk, paranthe wali gali, balli maran, kaanch ki choodiyaan, beautiful things had brightened our 3rd semester!
Semester 4
Short lived was the smoothness, 4th semester started out rocky, Sujata and Poulomi screamed at each other, Ipsita and I could hear that from the dining room and silence prevails between them till now! Well, there was some awckwardness initially but we got used to the situation and handled things smartly then on.
Campus interviews had started, our department didn't have one so I accompanied Ipsita and Poulomi to theirs. We held each others hands through those times and gave a shoulder to cry on when things weren't going our way, the friendship got stronger between the three of us. They got a job!
Another booze party on Ipsita's birthday, this one saw us eating Marie biscuits dipped in rum,throwing them across the room as flying saucers, dancing mujra at 4a.m. and poetically describing the sunrise to random people.
We had found paradise; Classes, term papers, projects, book reviews,exams---booze parties, hostel nights, movies, valentine's days and anna's cafe!
'DU is a smoke-free campus.. where do we buy sutta from? walk 3 kms?', 'Ami paan khabo, amio, amra shobai khabo', 'let's go to to DU gardens... nahi ridge chalte hain!' 'Bibhaas get booze for us please, we cant go to the theka na? akeli abala nari?' 'Tuhin let's go to TGIF.' 'I want to watch Basic Instinct.. where do we get?' 'Nahin madam nayi wali hai, hindi mein, murder ka nasha(basic instinct 2).. wohi de dijiye!' 'let's go watch Tashan'-- we found ourselves saying or hearing these above-mentioned sentences!
The End
Exams were tense times, did more masti than studying! Last semester was like a do-or-die time for us, iske baad mile na mile? We would miss Delhi so let's go on delhi parikrama, we decided. Ipsita and I stayed an extra 5 days after our exams to pay our homage to Delhi.
It would be very wrong of me if I don't mention a particular person in the post. That is our south-indian guard bhaiyya. I think we were a very well-behaved group so he gave us little discounts on our 'late nights' and 'night outs', wished us on Diwalis and courteously enquired about our injuries, and yes we had suffered many broken legs in our group!

Who hath desired the Sea? -- the immense and contemptuous surges?-- kipling

2009-10-03T10:16:00.004+02:00

If any of you have ever bothered to go through my blogger profile then you know that the ocean is of interest to me. Sadly, I have not seen one in more than two years, and the one I had been to 2.5 yrs ago wasn't even a real beach trip as I was unwell and couldnt go unskinny dipping! So yeah I am majorly depressed about my very unhappening beach life.
I have made a pact with my girlfriends in India that the next time I am there we'll go to Goa minus the men in our lives. I am so excited about it that I have already started searching for good seaside hotels and all.
And if you have read my previous post you will know how minute the chances are of this plan working out!!
So I have decided even if I don't get company as a last resort I shall take my husband with me and that shouldn't be too bad!

Artiste Impossible

2009-10-02T16:36:00.002+02:00

I think I just figured out the creative person, he/she isn't very different from all of us except that they take much more liberties with their speech and their disposition.
Then it must be quite simple to be creative, right? I am going to try and be slightly more temperamental, a little more candid, finely rude and very careless, ahem! carefree I mean!

Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans. --- Lennon

2009-09-27T13:48:00.004+02:00

It's been more than a month since I posted anything on my blog, mostly due to something I had to tend to urgently in Calcutta but also because I haven't felt particularly creative.
In the last one month I have realized that life hardly ever goes according to a plan, however big or small they are. When I was younger I never had any plans of my own so the only ones that came my way were the ones that the adults around me planned. I was always most interested in being included in my big sister's plans. Anything to do with her were the most exciting.
I don't remember much of the things that happened to me below the age of 12 but I remember that I always looked forward to movies or lunch/dinners with my sister and her friends and sometimes with family and if they were made long before they were supposed to happen I would check the calender secretly waiting for the day to arrive; strangest thing is that almost all of those times the plans had gotten cancelled causing me much distress and agony.
One of the most significant examples I can think of is the first time I was to fly to the US, my first foreign tour at the age of 15 and I had bragged about it to all my friends, on the day we were to fly we got the news that one sector of our tickets weren't confirmed so we had to change dates. I remember crying my heart and eyes out because to my immature mind it was a huge disappointment.
Years later, last month to be precise, I heard that an old friend who is also a professional dancer was touring Germany and I made plans to visit the nearest location of her programme to meet her as well as attend the show. We bought train tickets and made hotel bookings a month prior to her programme and waited eagerly. Then this emergency happened at home for which I had to fly out to Calcutta in a day's notice and in the midst of all the chaos I kept repeating to myself how life always follows a course of it's own that is beyond any human control.
But I also realized that my mind is still as immature as a 15 yr old's because I still felt like crying my heart and eyes out for not making it to my friend's programme.
For now I shall just wait eagerly for another opportunity of concurrence.

J'Adore Tien Blog Award

2009-09-25T21:03:00.003+02:00

Hey everyone I was awarded the "I love your Blog" by dreamer and I am feeling great about it! Do visit her blog and you just might find a piece of your everyday life with a twist of humour!

On receiving this you may or may not:

Add the logo to your blog
Link to the person who passed on the award
Nominate blogs of your choice
Leave a message on the nominee blogs

My choices are:

1. A Bengali girl in the U.S

2. The Revival

3. Looking through my eyes

4. Kodachrome Conversations

LA VIE EN ROSE

2009-08-14T00:19:00.011+02:00

Movies and Music are a few of my most loved things... and when movies have great music they can create some truly memorable moments. From the title itself it is easy to guess that this post has some french connection.
We are planning a trip to Gay Paris for the New Years and while doing some research on the city I came across the website of a restaurant situated at the Eiffel Tower. The background audio of the website is a letter that Audrey Hepburn writes to her father in the movie Sabrina, while she spends some time at Paris.
Immediately I was transported back to the movie whose background score was La Vie En Rose which brought to my mind the movie on Edith Piaf starring Marion Cotillard, which in turn reminded me of another movie of hers called A Good Year also set in France, Provence. I was filled with a warm gushing feeling, a pleasant warmth that one feels at spring time.
Our imagination, affected by movies, music and stories we hear can create a completely different place out of a given city, I am pretty sure when I stand at Champs-Élysées I wont hear La Vie En Rose playing (unless some busker is playing it there at the time) or when I see the Sacre Coeur I wont hear Sabrina's letter in my mind but I might, just might, see the place through rose tinted glasses and feel the spring on a cold winter morning!

Sabrina's Letter :"I have learnt so many things, Father. Not just how to make vichyssoise or calf's head with sauce vinaigrette, but a much more important recipe.I have learnt how to live... How to be In the world and Of the world, and not just to stand aside and watch. And I will never, never again run away from life. Or from love, either"

La Vie En Rose:
Hold me close and hold me fast
The magic spell you cast
This is la vie en rose
When you kiss me, Heaven sighs
And though I close my eyes
I see la vie en rose
When you press me to your heart
I'm in a world apart
A world where roses bloom
And when you speak
Angels sing from above
Every day words
Seem to turn into love songs
Give your heart and soul to me
And life will always be
La vie en rose
en rose.

Hear it in French, it is even better!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EPBSYXeZnDY

Loving Frank

2009-08-12T16:13:00.004+02:00

disclaimer: Whoever wants to read this book don't read this post. Spoilers ahead!

About a year back I was visiting Delhi for some work at the university and catching up with old friends. At the airport I had bought a book called Loving Frank by Nancy Horan, the name Frank Lloyd Wright catching my attention.
Putting up with an old friend in her 'bachelor pad' I had a lot of time to my self while she was at work and I read my book. I had reached up to about half of the book when I left it at her place by mistake while leaving Delhi. I was almost killed of curiosity about how the book had ended but slowly I had forgotten all about it till recently when my friend reminded me of it.
I quickly did a google search and realized that the story is in fact quite a real portrayal of Frank Lloyd Wrights love affair with Mamah Borthwick Cheney.
I had loved what I had read of the book and I could connect with Mamah's emotional turmoil revolving around her children and lover and how she felt torn between them.
In the book Mamah was in constant anxiety over leaving her children and in doubt of her morality but very sure of her love for Frank.
In the end while she is living with Frank in Wisconsin with her children visiting her, she and her children are murdered by one of their domestic helps.
All the while I was reading the book there was a constant feeling of liberation in spite of myself.
The point of this post is that, Mamah Cheney had quite a difficult journey throughout the period she was with Frank, she had hardly seen her children who were beginning to forget her, she lost a dear friend while she was away at Paris, they faced scandal in their hometown, Frank had decided to leave her and go back to his children for a while and she left him for a while to go to the University of Leipzig. And her end came quite tragically. And through all of this, Mamah probably would've done things the same way if she was given another chance. That loving Frank made her do so many other things, from rediscovering herself to giving herself the opportunities that a woman is often scared to give herself.

Raat yeh bhi guzar jayegi

2009-08-12T16:06:00.003+02:00

This too is a post from my deleted blog!

Sometimes certain songs just get into the head and keeps playing over and over in our minds... it can be highly irritating like the german song I learnt in class and just wouldnt leave my head " man nehme eier aus dem stall....." grrrr..
This other song just covered my heart with a melancholic wrap... the tune has a sadness to it but I wasn't very sure of the lyrics of this song, so after a google search I found out that quite a number of people have put down the lyrics to their blogs. SO why not I? here's the song.. its even more beautiful if you hear it..after all "our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thoughts" Shelley

EK Woh Din Bhi The..
Ek Yeh Din Bhi Hain..
Ek Woh Rat Thi..
Ek Yeh Raat Hain...

Raat Yeh Bhi Guzar Jayegi!!!!!
Raat Yeh Bhi Guzar Jayegi!!!!

Koi aata hai palko pe chalta hua
Ek aansoo sunhari sa jalta hua
Khwab bhuj jayege, rat rah jayegi
Rat yeh bhi guzar jayegi
Rat yeh bhi guzar jayegi

Waqt saalon ki dhund se nikal jayega
Tera chehra nazar se pighal jayega
Aankh band hogi to,neend aajayegi
Rat yeh bhi guzar jayegi
Rat yeh bhi guzar jayegi

EK Woh Din Bhi The..
Ek Yeh Din Bhi Hain..
Ek Woh Rat Thi..
Ek Yeh Raat Hain...

Raat Yeh Bhi Guzar Jayegi!!!!!
Raat Yeh Bhi Guzar Jayegi!!!!

-------Gulzar!
p.s. The song expresses one of the most unshakeable truths of life, no matter what, the past always has this effect on a person.

Alchemy

2009-08-12T15:57:00.003+02:00

This is a post from one of my other blogs that I have decided to delete.

disclaimer: does not reflect my current mood!

Alchemy- january 9th!

Very often our minds are filled with thoughts that, in an attempt to shut out, we tumble over.
One thought gives way to another and then another... almost always these are factual moments of one's life which have, over-time, become fictionalized in our minds.
Therefore, whenever we are looking back in time and trying to remember these moments they are quite far from the realities; these are morphed ideas having some special appeal. In turn these have manifestation of different kinds like nostalgia, compunction, intrigue and chagrin... let me remind you these thoughts (which have rather become more 'imaginations') are far removed from the realities of the bygone times therefore, the manifestations are really the fabrications of the mind.
Yet, we have etched them so strongly in our minds that we believe it to be the reality of the present, a highly transmogrified present I must say because we perceive everything around us in relation to the past and our past is warped in our minds.

SO can you guess what our future would be like!

Are we that far from being schizophrenic? Is it really an abnormality?

Life is as elusive as can be and all our beings are amorphous; every memory, every idea, every situation will change your reality

As Time Goes By

2009-04-09T10:27:00.003+02:00

Inside the Actors Studio is one of the programs Anirban successfully hooked me to, he failed with Office(british version) but I did start liking Ricky Gervais.
So while searching for unwatched episodes of ITAS I staggered upon some clippings of Liza Minnelli. I found them to be very witty and touching, but the greatest part was when she sang. She sand a few songs like "Quiet Love","Dont Smoke in Bed","If you hadn't but you did"and the most romantic of all "As time goes by"... It brings back memories of Casablanca, Ingrid Bergman sitting at Rick's Cafe Americaine pleading to the pianist to play and sing the song for her when Humphrey Bogart walks in!

here are the lyrics!

You must remember this
A kiss is still a kiss
A sigh is just a sigh
The fundamental things apply
As time goes by

And when two lovers woo
They still say, I love you
On this you can rely
No matter what the future brings
As time goes by

Moonlight and love songs
Never out of date
Hearts full of passion
Jealousy and hate
Woman needs man
And man must have his mate
On this you can deny

It's still the same old story
A fight for love and glory
A case of do or die
The world will always welcome lovers
As time goes by

Moonlight and love songs
Never out of date
Hearts full of passion
Jealousy and hate
Woman needs man
And man must have his mate
On this you can deny

You must remember this
A kiss is still a kiss
A sigh is just a sigh
The fundamental things apply
As time goes by

Mythique

2009-04-05T19:01:00.002+02:00

This post is about one of the finer things of life and that is wine. Wine, itself, is enigmatic, even to people who don't like drinking much of it. But I am one of them who loves it when it blooms on the taste buds with its myriad flavours, awakening the senses (only good wines do that).
As a high school student I wanted to be a wine-taster at Napa Valley, it was triggered off by the new version of the movie the Parent-Trap. The Californian vineyard had singularly held my attention throughout the film.
Over a period of time I gathered information on the types of wines and the different countries that make a good one. French wine obviously is numero uno followed by Italian, German, South African, so on and so forth. Although Europeans do not consider american wines to be very good Robert Mondavi surely begs to differ.
French red and white grape varieties are certianly the most well known, like chenin blanc, cabernet sauvignon and chardonnay. India has tried replicating these wine varieties in its southern parts, thanks to Grovers and Chateau Indage but Sula Vineyards make the best Indian wines.
So coming back to my story, back in college the only decent wines we could afford(collectively) was a cabernet sauvignon by grovers and we drank it in our coffee mugs, with dim lights and a tarot card spread. I have to say we have come a long way since then and had the opportunity to drink some of the finest wines in the world.
I am not too fond of red as they are more full-bodied and robust for my taste but last evening we picked up a bottle from the mall and I have to say its one of best reds I have ever tasted.
Its french of course, La Cuvee Mythique 2006 with 30% Syrah and 25% Grenache Noir grapes. And guess what, someone has already posted a blog on this wine, it's true that every time you pick up a bottle from the supermarket you think it's too inexpensive(8 euros) to be excellent but this one is EXCELLENT, it has hints of dark chocolate and spice, its not too sweet and not too dry. Great to drink with cheese and duck and lamb chops.
So anyone who is looking to gift a bottle of good wine try this one but it is certainly more rewarding if you buy it for yourself and sip it with some extravagance. It can transport you to places you have not been.

See you when you're 40

2009-03-27T17:47:00.005+01:00

So I was listening to my Dido collection after a really long time. I love her music and I still don't own her latest album, I know, what kind of a fan am I , right? So this song was playing when I just realized it is just the kind of song that I need to post on my blog. I dont know the people who read my blog but if any one of you is having a relationship issue with a guy who sounds like the one in the song you should really sing it to him! Lol, all the best!
here goes:

I've driven round in circles for three hours
It was bound to happen that I'd end up at your
I temporarily forgot there's better days to come
I thought that I would give it just one more chance

Cos' I want, tonight, what I've been waiting for
But I found, tonight, what I'd been warned about

You think that you are complicated, deep mystery to all
Well it's taken me a while to see, you're not so special
All energy no meaning, with a lot of words
So paper thin that one real feeling, could knock you down

And I've seen, tonight, what I've been warned about
I'm gonna leave, tonight, before I change my mind

So see you when your 40, lost and all alone
being comforted by strangers you'll never need to know
not sad because you lost me
but sad because you thought it was cool to be sad

You think misery will make you stand apart from the crowd
well if you had walked past me today I wouldn't have picked you out
I wouldn't have picked you out

now I've seen, tonight, how I could waste my time
and I'll be on my way, and I won't be back
cos I've seen, tonight, what I've been warned about
your just a boy, not a man, and I'm not coming back

here's the link to the song in case u haven't heard it before
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BxxGIjqTM_Q

The India that I Bear

2009-02-26T10:16:00.015+01:00

While attending classes of Social Geography of India, in the 3rd sem of my MA degree, I remember our lecturer describing India as a Salad bowl. Now Melting Pot I'd heard but Salad Bowl was a completely different take, meaning that all our individual cultures and beliefs remained in tact while there was still a lot of mixing.
I agree with it mostly, because we still do try to differentiate between ourselves and the 'others', Bengalis and Tamils and Gujratis, so on and so forth; yet there is so much of who we are and what we do that are similar. After all this is what makes us Indian.
Not getting into the subject of the adoption of 'western' cultural practices, I'll just talk about my experience of being Indian. I am a born and bred Calcuttan (this is from the time when Kolkata was still Calcutta), that is West Bengal in East India, although my ancestors are from East Bengal(now Bangladesh); That is too many identities all at once as I like eating my aloo posto (very West Bengali) as well as my murighonto (East Bengali). Considering that wasn't enough I happened to live my early adult life(5 yrs to be precise) in Delhi and absorbed some of the punjabiness too, my husband still finds it funny when I talk in the punjabi-ized hindi.. also many bengalis don't understand the expressions I use such as 'I am totally vella(jobless, not as in unemployed but free)', 'oh my god you're a fuchha(junior)' or 'lets go to the theka(liquor store)' or 'dukhi aatma'(depressed soul is the literal meaning but used very lightly and not very often used by people outside delhi), I even happened to identify a woman being from Delhi just coz she used the word 'dukhi aatma' then we lost ourselves in conversations about Aloo Chaat, Tikki and Paranthewali gali in Dilli 6, yes, that's Chandni Chowk and yes, it looks exactly like it's shown in the movie. There are some days when the cravings for Butter Chicken, Kaali daal and nan are so strong that I can smell them in Dresden
During my stay in Delhi I happened to get close to a Tamil Family who cooked traditional south-indian food and followed tamil rituals. There I learnt about south india food different from dosa and idli. I developed a taste for authentic Rasams and Morkuzhambu, vadai and many other things I cant even begin to pronounce much less type it out. In diwali I've had their traditional til(sesame)oil massaged in my head before sunrise and also had Dial lehiyam, I hope I am right about the names because I did have a chyawanprash -like ayurvedic paste pushed in my mouth. Now the funny thing was that they also followed UP rituals because they are a Tamil Iyer married to UP Agarwal family so as crazy as it may sound, I sang bhajans at lakshmi Puja and also lit my share of kuthu vilakus, in fact I even got one gifted to me by them at my wedding. SO along with the south indian food I even ate meethi puri with pheeka raita, not to mention the different varieties of paranthas. The witnessing of the different festivals of Karva Chauth and Pongal in the same household was a potpourri. I can very proudly claim that sankranti to me is not just peethe/puli/payesh but also pongal.
To get this sort of exposure to Indian cultures one has to be very very lucky because most Indians don't get the opportunity to or rather they don't seek it out. The melange of North Indian extravagance, South Indian traditionalism and Bengali intellectualism is a very rare combination which I do not claim to possess but certainly tried to imbibe. And in having this experience I do not think I have lost my individual identity rather it has only made it stronger. Even today there's nowhere I'd rather be but in Calcutta surrounded by my family and friends but I do prefer Kanjivarams to Balucharis, and sometimes the Butter chicken overrides the Machher Jhol

Dhobi ka Kutta!

2009-02-05T15:52:00.005+01:00

Many of us who live outside our motherlands study at universities abroad, mainly the USA and UK, and Germany is also a popular destination for engineers and Mathematicians. Very often than not we need a certificate of knowledge of English Language in the forms of TOEFL or IELTS to pursue education in these countries.
I have never given much thought to this procedure as I understand that English is after all the 1st language in US and UK and it is their mother tongue. But recently while searching for programs in German Universities I realized that most courses are taught in German, therefore to study them you need certificate of knowledge of German Language and for the courses taught in English you need a TOEFL or IELTS certification; it suddenly struck me that we (especially Indians)do such injustice to ourselves
India is one of the very few countries that has a very strong background of English language knowledge in spite of it not being OUR mother tongue. Some of us actually speak better English than the national language or our native language. As far as I am concerned I certainly express myself best with the help of this truly global language, it truly is our Lingua Franca. In spite of it if we require to prove our command over English through silly certificates then I am really sorry that I cant speak better Bangla and Hindi. That year after year we have studied every subject in English and have prided ourselves over the command over it only to have it tested by people who cannot even construct a proper sentence in english.
Having studied in the Capital city of Delhi I have seen students from all corners of the country having higher education in Hindi and getting through English instructed MA courses. Every reference book being in English only a couple had been translated in Hindi, every lecture was delivered in English.. every writing on the board was english; and these students coped and coped very well, sometimes scoring higher than English medium students. Whether they can speak perfectly or not they could write well enough and better. With this kind of attitude that is fostered in the youth of India it is truly an injustice... injustice to our native languages (some cant even write their own names) and in demanding TOEFL certificates of us! Isi ko shayad kehte hain Dhobi ka kutta, na ghar ka na ghaat ka! Ab iska anuvaad angrezi mein nahi kiya jaata...!!!

Just Ramblings!

2009-02-02T15:14:00.003+01:00

It's been a pleasant week the last one.. got over with my A1.1 level of my german course and got a certificate as well, Anirban took me out for dinner in the weekend to a nice South African restaurant "capetown's" and I had a damn good alcohol loaded cocktail that made my evening!! Since my India trip in october I havent had a carefree casual evening out like this one... it was rejuvenating and I have my spirits high again.
I have been watching some 1940s and 50s classics and I must say its been a while since simple but interesting movies have been made. This kind of humour, thrills or romance have been missing in almost all the movies of this era. Now every movie must have innumerable number of twists and psychotic behaviours to make a thriller or cheap thrills and baked faces for the horror genres and loads of flimsy clothing, heaving cleavages and salivating "heroes" as Romance! Let me remind you dear directors, that a quiet backdrop and shadow play is scarier than blood and guts and just a look of longing is 'sexier' than nudity! Unfortunately I was too drawn into these movies myself till recently... simplicity of a character gives it the complexity and dimension to an audience.. no one has to keep adding to the things he/she must do!
Some of the movies I recommend: The Ghost and Mrs Muir, Laura, People Will Talk, A Letter to Three Wives, and of course watch all the Hitchcock movies...

Slumdog Millionaire

2009-02-02T14:53:00.002+01:00

I had written a post on Slumdog Millionaire a couple of weeks ago... criticizing the movie and the unnecessary politics behind its hype. I deleted it because I have changed my mind. I still maintain my stand for the fact that dev patel and Anil kapoor were totally worthless in the film! And there were a number of loop holes in the screen play. But over all the movie is interesting and it does touch up on real issues that we tend to get defensive about when the colonial gaze hovers over us (still)... Atleast if this can make the people of India conscious enough to do something, anything about it.. the movie is well worth it! As for Danny Boyle I dont like him still!

Pleasant Remembrances

2008-12-30T11:46:00.002+01:00

There are days when standing in the kitchen and stirring a ladle in a pan of curry( I do a lot of that these days) brings back memories of my mother from more than a decade ago.
My parents would go to the grocery (bajar) every sunday morning. It was my fathers department to buy the vegetables and my mother would buy fish and meat. There were some sundays when I accompanied them mainly to get my sunday morning treats from a Mithai shop for their bundi, shingara and kochuri. After getting back... my mother would squat on the kitchen floor keeping the veggies in the crisper, and deciding the menu for sunday lunch. My sister and I used to make coffee and wait for my mom to return to the sunny bedroom for a cuppa. She used to be so busy instructing the maid that we incessantly screamed 'mommy' from time to time till she would scream back "ufff ki?". The coffees almost always had pieces of chocolate or bourbon biscuits accompanying them and we'd have nice late morning chats till she drove us mad to take a bath before lunch.
A regular feature of sunday lunches was the very bengali chicken curry.. cooked very quickly in the pressure cooker by my mother.

Ingredient:

1 kilo Chicken cut into pieces
3 tbsp white oil or mustard oil
1 large or 2 medium onions grated
1 heaped teaspoon of ginger garlic paste(preferred fresh in stead of readymade)
1 large tomato diced
1/2 tsp turmeric powder
1 tsp chilli powder
2 tsp coriander powder
2 medium potatoes quartered
2 green cardamoms
1 cinnamon stick
2 bay leaves
3-4 cloves
1 teaspoon shahi garam masala powder(or freshly ground at home)
salt to taste
1 tsp sugar
and 2 green chillies left whole

Method:
In a pressure cooker heat one table spoon of oil and fry the potatoes till golden brown then keep aside. In the same oil (you can add some more accordingly) and put the cardamoms,cloves,bay leaves and cinnamon sticks. Fry them till they crackle.
Now add the onions and fry till golden. Add the ginger garlic paste, turmeric, chilli powder and coriander powder. Fry till the oil starts leaving at the sides. Add the tomatoes and cover on low heat for 5 mins till the tomatoes are well cooked and disappear in the masala leaving a reddish colour, add the salt and sugar now. Now add the chicken and mix with the masala for 10-15 minutes on low heat. Add the potatoes, 2 cups of water and close the lid of the cooker on high heat. After 2 whistles (approx 10 minutes) lower the heat, keep on for 5-10 more minutes and remove. Add the green chillies and coriander leaves(optional) and serve.

Return to OZ

2008-12-28T11:01:00.003+01:00

So I did return to delhi a married woman.. to spend a week visiting old friends and family. To my utter surprise nothing had changed as my treatment was concerned, the only thing different was my view of the city. I did not enjoy as I would've as a student. I was testing the city in terms of safety, long-term settlement and realized that delhi was not in my list. So my state of being has completely change my perception of the world around me. Delightful memories, shall go with me, of my mentor city... but it was time to move on, I realized.
Now its time for another 'return', this time to the US of A. Visiting family is always fun and this time we will be together again like it happened during my wedding, minus my husband.
The good thing about these situations is that somewhere deep inside the excitement of a reunion abates the pain of separation!

Just an Update

2008-12-27T18:49:00.002+01:00

I have been out of touch for a while. I got myself married off and went on my honeymoon to Venice then lived in Trento for 3 months. Visited Calcutta during the pujo and enjoyed myself thoroughly although I had to run around for my german visa. Had a beautiful time with friends and family, now I am in germany. Settling down takes a little time but we are getting there. Dresden is a beautiful city and stealing someone else's expressions... it really is more like a village with all the physicalities and logistics of a city.
Initially I was pretty scared that being a stay-at-home wife could be strangling but I am pretty surprised at myself for secretly enjoying it ... in 6 months I have seen so many beautiful places around the world and all the credit goes to good luck and a travelling husband. The only thing missing are friends... At this juncture of life (which many may consider is not a juncture at all) I have come to realize the importance of friends around me. Lucky to have close family and friends in constant touch electronically I still miss one to one contact, like little cafe gossips, window shopping and hour long conversations and unwanted advising!
For these simple reasons I am getting myself geared to go back to a classroom again!!!
My life is at such a juncture now that anything can happen or nothing at all!

TRISTE INCURABILIS

2008-04-16T19:38:00.003+02:00

With so little time left in the city that turned me into a woman, its a myriad of emotions that fill me today. I had heard people say they have a love-hate relationship with Delhi, never really quite understood the sentiment till now.

Next time I return to the city I will be married, a state of being as opposed to a state of mind like virginity. And how I perceive the city may change with my changing state of being. It has more to do with the people I have encountered in the 5 years of my stay here that made Delhi(How often your Re-volution has proven but E-volution Roll’d again back on itself in the tides of a civic insanity!.. Tennyson) so special.

The songs have come to me here. It is here that I have danced for myself. It is here that I have learnt to be true to myself even when I was unsure of who I am.

And now when I am moving into another beautiful city of my life, I can only hope that the season finale will be what one wishes for.

Sunshine, I love you
I always will
Can I be faithful until
We're together once again
Someday?
But summer days must come and go
And though we wish it so
Time won't wait for sighs
So summer left and so did we
We turned our backs to the sea
And said our sad goodbyes
Winter seemed so long and cold
I watched the hours grow old
And I think of you
Sunshine you're in my heart
All the time we are apart
Hope you're thinking too

OUR HEADPIECES FILLED WITH STRAW

2008-02-26T08:20:00.000+01:00

Sitting here today in this bright spring afternoon, when there is a perfume in the air, the sun shines bright and the blowing wind announces the arrival of hope and joy... why do I think of the night and the dark deserted streets? I am reminded of Eliot... and a line springs to my mind
'Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons;I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;'
Thank you, Devapriya for introducing me to Eliot, it sure was a turning point in my life.
LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit
...
For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
...
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

HEROINE

2007-06-22T05:21:00.000+02:00

So this is today... and i cant remember when was yesterday. each day feels like a dream, like a deja vu. so many things have been done within a month that i cant figure out where i am right now... am literally living out of a suitcase!
Amidst all you kinda tend to forget the other 'real' life that overshadows this real life... the school.. the dorm... the exams!!!
I posted the first blog during those exams now i am posting this when it is time for 'judgement day' not necessarily meaning it's apocalypse... my brain refuses to take in all that!
The 'brave new world' is very weird for me, too many days of tourism can get you bored and then you wonder when it will come to an end. When you get yourself overworked you still wait for it to come to an end....
Yet the world in my mind intrigues me no end... how i get bored and fatigued at the same time... how am excited and oversensitive all at once. One day I feel I cannot leave the country I was born in and the next I feel this insatiable thirst for adventure.. to go into the unknown, the profane as they say!
Its almost time for me to return to my base, the possibilities on the other side are endless;
For now am the marionette.. even i am unsure of the tricks i play up!