Daal-Chawal ki kasam

Man is a creature of habit.
And I am a slave to habit.
We were off vacationing in California for about 9 days, eating all kinds of food – Indian, Mexican, Italian, and American. Yes, we did eat at Indian restaurants but we used to order Chicken Tikka Masala and Palak Paneer etc, which is all fancy delicacies.But the linings of the mouth and tummy were yearning for plain yellow arhar-daal and steaming hot rice.

And this craving grew each day and while on the return flight, I was happy to reach home, so I can eat my daal-chawal. And soon as I entered home, I rushed to the kitchen to put arhar daal in the pressure cooker with a pinch of haldi and whole red chillies and put the rice in the microwave. In the background, I could hear P’s lame cries to help him get the luggage inside, but that’s normal and I quickly peeled and chopped a couple of garlic cloves for the baghaar.Yes,that’s the way mom cooks it, baghaar with ghee and garlic. And the consistency is important too. It should not be so watery that you can’t make out the grains of daal and should be fluid enough to blend with the rice. NO! this is not a recipe blog…so STOP!!

Now, a little about our eating habits. There is a very thin line between loving food and adoring it. So, I can be classified as a food-lover but P is the one who adores food and treats it with profound reverence. When we sit down to eat, I am so lustily hungry that I hastily devour food and am done in less that 5 mins. But P first adjusts the salt n pepper, then reaches out for accompaniments like dahi and achaar and then he eats slowly, enjoying and savoring each morsel. Often times, at weekends, just to add a touch of romance, he lights a candle and puts in a DVD before eating, so we can enjoy a dinner-and-movie at home. But the hungry and impatient me –by the time, he searches the disk and puts in the player; I am about 3/4ths done!So much for a romantic dinner!!

Also, I believe that rice is supposed to be eaten so hot that it burns your fingers. I remember when we sat down to eat with my sis and bro-in-law in the early days, the BIL stared at us sisters for a minute, and said:
Tum behnein to jalte hue chawal khati ho!

But that day when I sat down to eat daal-chaawal after 10 days; I felt a reverence for it. So, I ate one plateful with greed and hastiness and then I stopped. I paused to soak in the aroma and goodness of the rice and to let my innards warm by the hot meal. And then I resumed eating, paying attention to each bite and thanking God for the comfort food.

Gone,baby gone.....

I had earlier wriiten about our family attachment to P’s moustache:
Moustache is family property
But he had been nurturing and sustaining this itch to wipe it off since I don’t know when.He kept on saying that he’s going to shave it off on our 10th anniversary, thus trying to be a new person, so that I forget all that I hold against him and we can eventually live happily ever after.But I didn’t know he was serious until the day the lightning struck!

This was the first morning of our vacation. As I stepped out of the bath, I saw Ishaan crying, his face wet with tears and his finger pointing towards dad’s face.I thought he had got into some trouble with dad, but then I looked at what he was pointing to - and Oh my God, what a shock it was to see his face sans the moustache.
Why did you not warn me, why didnt you ask me?His answer was that I would never have let that happen if I had been forewarned.

And I started crying too because it was like he had lost a part of his body, like a finger or a limb…he looked so incomplete and amputated.This was someone alien,this was not the person I was living with for the last 10 years,day in and day out.He has been with the moonch ever since I first saw him and that was 12 years ago!And this was not what I signed up for!That part between his nose and his lip was always covered under the moonch and was so unknown. It looked so bare and so exposed and so distinct as it was smoother and lighter in color,being protected from the harshness of the sun and the chill always.

Every time I looked up at him, I felt so genuinely sad and angry.It was a trauma for both me and Ishaan and that too inflicted upon us, without any rhyme or reason,just to address a whim. This was just hair,but I cant imagine the trauma of family of soldiers/accident victims who lose their limbs,eyes and have to live with it for the rest of their lives..

Its been about 10 days now and his moustache is growing back fast and there’s already a thin black line there in the vacant spot, which gives us some solace.And back home,he looked at himself in the mirror 10 times before heading off to work and I convinced him its okay now.But then he calls me from work that all are saying good things about his new look and even saying that he’s looking 10 years younger...Crazy People!!

So it looks like that what is gone is gone forever, sob, sob….

Happy Birthday,son

I can master any weapon, give me a gun,
But Lord I can’t handle a son under the sun.
And that infant, toddler, now turning seven,
Thank You dear God Almighty, thanks Heaven.

The contents were never labeled on the box,
At times-Meek as a kitten & then sly as a fox.
Can hurt us by distant looks and cold shrugs,
Again then floods us with kisses & warm hugs.

Doesn’t listen at all, tests my miniscule patience,
Other times, a picture of obedience and penance.
Inane, absurd but again sensitive and sagacious,
That’s what makes our jewel so very precious.

Mostly pure, free-flowing love, as if from a faucet,
That’s what we perennially get from our little cosset.
Hope it doesn’t change, as his chrysalis, he breaks,
Each moment, my soul prays and my heart aches.

Power rangers, star war knights, Spiderman,
Are immediate members of his growing clan.
His latest and incessant passion is sports,
Hopes to be cheered by sundry and cohorts.

Times I doubt his ability, his skill, his perseverance,
Shame on me, I could’ve myself been up on clearance.
No studies today he says- come what may, rain or shine,
Next moment- Mom, isn’t eleven times nine ninety nine?

Leaves every scrap of paper scribbled and dirty,
Don’t mind it bcoz mom, he always draws pretty.
‘Pls don’t tell dad’, he tells me with a frown,
But ‘Oh I miss Dad’ soon as he is out of town.

Afraid of thunder, scared of the tiniest insect,
Unaware that one day frogs he has to dissect.
Voice starts to quiver and down come the dreaded ready tears,
Separation from home (college, hostel) is among his worst fears.

Every mom thinks her child is the one,
And I, for sure, claim to be no exception.
Every dad wants his child to do him proud,
And stand out shining in a teeming crowd.

The galaxy will forever flaunt its celestial glow,
But YOU son; will be the lone star of our show!!

My pet aversions

He/she, you, they - almost everyone is being tagged…how come nobody tagged me?
Well, for tagging someone, you have to think of someone, sigh… and I am so happy that my blogger friend Reflections thought about me and wants to know more about me.

This TAG is for 10 things that emotionally tax me and I’m calling it ‘My Pet Aversions’.
I dont know about the exact precedence of the list below, but these definitely sap me out:

1.Injustice to women: I hate men who treat women like lesser beings and also in many cases, like doormats. Some call me a feminist and so I am.

2.Show Off – This is something that makes me cringe. I have always been a firm believer of: ‘Substance over form’. And though I agree that some form is mandatory to hold the substance but vain form with no substance is like empty beautifully-wrapped Christmas gifts adorning a Christmas tree at a corporate party.

3.Breaking promises: I hate breaking promises and when someone does that to me. I believe in – do what you say or don’t say it. Keeping your word even in the smallest things speaks volumes of your character.

4.Unsolicited Advice: Some people designate themselves the counselors of all humanity and want to ram down their opinion down your throat. Its difficult for them to understand that – I choose to be what I am.

5.Sugar-coating the neem: I hate glib and smooth talkers who make it difficult to discern the venom under the honey. I believe in calling a spade a spade, because that’s what it is. And sometimes, if you dig your teeth inside the sugar-coating, the stark bitterness makes you gag your guts out.

6.Manipulating Others: Some people spend better parts of their day in analyzing how they can take advantage of others. And they twist your arm without you even knowing it and its too late to slip away ;-)

7.Letting out secrets: You trust somebody with a secret and they let the feathers out in the air to be blown everywhere. This is so hurtful and disrespectful.

8.Doing laundry in the public: You need to share your woes, that’s understandable and that’s human but I don’t agree with washing dirty linen in public, in front of people you hardly know!

9.Pretence: I believe people who try to be what they are not suffer from low self-esteem. Every individual is precious and different and one must respect one’s identity. I love this caveat: “Kauva chala hans ki chaal, apni bhi bhool gaya.”

10.Over-curiosity : Some people just don’t know when to stop and keep on shooting
intrusive queries, no matter how much you try to convey your annoyance.
A good example is: How much do you earn?
I made up a standard answer to this quest:
"Bas daal-roti ke layak mil jaata hai, zyada kuchh nahin."

Sick and Poor Joke

I absolutely know and believe that this belongs to the sickest poor jokes category, but noone will shoot me for penning it down.So here goes:

Before Marriage :
Marry me, I will treat you like a रानी(queen)


Marriage Day +1 :
Now since you are much more closer to me than before, I hereby honor you with prefix नोंक .
So,henceforth I will treat you like a नोंक + रानी(maid servant)
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bath obsession

I’m not a compulsive cleanliness-loving maniac or a very organized person, but I am extremely particular about having spic-and-span and sparkly bathrooms at my home. I don’t care if living room’s a mess or beds are unmade, but no compromise for the baths. Even when we lived in India, I had a whole crew to manage -cleaning help, cooking help, babysitter and all that, but cleaning the bathrooms I always reserved for me. No one would scrub the tiles to a shine as it doesn’t make sense to anyone.

And P gets irked when I wake up on Saturdays and don my cleaning gloves and start emptying the bathrooms to clean them thoroughly. Even sometimes when I’m in low spirits and depressed, he tells me to go ahead and clean the bathrooms, to perk me up- my favorite activity, as he calls it. Yes, it does give me immense satisfaction to look at the result at the end of it and it’s an esoteric stress reliever.

And its that unexplainable beatific feeling to enter the bath with the fresh smell, with no water streaks on the shower doors or the faucets and no soap scum in the basins or tiles and no water splashed on the mirrors. It makes me ecstatic, oneiric, lifts up the spirits. I wouldn’t go to a bath which is not what I want, to wash the stress off of my face after work or to brush my teeth at night, before bed.

To clean the 2 ½ bathrooms thoroughly takes me two hours on the weekend, from start to finish, which P feels but doesn’t say, could be utilized in making the weekend breakfast/brunch, as many man would like. But I can’t do that, because the baths beckon me and I have to attend to it. I don’t blame him because often he is at the end of questions like- why there’s toothpaste plopped in your basin? Do you wash your face or the mirror? Why can I still see granules of your facial hair in the sink after your shave?

And when we go grocery-shopping, I hand over to him the food items while I am in the cleaning supplies aisle, looking for new cleaning supplies.
And when we go out of town and book hotel rooms I don’t even look at the bed and the pillows, but rush to the bath to check out how appealing it is, if I can live with it .

Its difficult for Ishaan to aim and steer his stream into the toilet bowl and more often than not, he misses the target and sprays it here and there;its the male anatomy! And again I’m going crazy with the wipes and the sprays.

God is watching

I have never blogged about my driving. But here are hubby's views about my steering skills,in his words:
“Tumhein car chalani nahin aati,wo to apne aap chal jaati hai”(You don’t know how to drive, its just that the car goes all by itself)
I am not a novice driver, people would consider me seasoned, given that I have been driving for 9 years now.
But I don’t enjoy driving and I would not do it unless I really, really have to. And that amounts to driving to and from work each day. I am a very wary driver, always keeping enough distance between me and the vehicle in front and I am very prompt at hitting the brakes and I am ready to yield rather than overtake.
So, that fateful evening at 6:00 I was driving back home, as usual lost in my thoughts when I noticed the police car, lights ablaze, chasing me. I looked at the speedometer-okay I was speeding and that too brazenly. The speed limit was 45 and I was 67!!But I do that every single day and nobody pointed a finger at me.I pulled over and quickly thought of an excuse that I was running late for daycare pickup etc.
The officer walked up to me and I blurted out my excuse but to no avail.I guess you have to be prettier and softer to pull that off. Anyway he wrote a ticket for a $100 and asked me to be safe.
Back home, I narrated this to hubby,verbatim and he promptly put on his expert driver’s cap –"How could you not have seen the police car on that solitary road? And it’s strange that you got a speeding ticket only when you drive just till nukkad(corner)."
My drive is almost 8-9 miles one way and he has the audacity to call it nukkad? Anyway he drives 20+ miles one way, so let him keep that. I offered no counter opinion.
We paid the fine and after that incident-I am always on a lookout for cops more than the cops would be on a lookout for law-breakers.
Last weekend we were driving to Rockford and of course he was the official, designated driver. And once out on the country roads, he lauded himself for putting the car on cruise and driving at 85 constantly when the speed limit was 65.
Now,given the slightest chance,my tall one gets taller- he climbs the lecture podium and dons the preacher cap to bestow on me some sermon God has made him responsible for – “You know, when you are driving, you should keep one eye on the speedometer and one eye on the road scanning for cops cars.” I nod, though laughing to myself, that I am not squint-eyed to divide my vision into two angles.
And encouraged, he went on- "I don’t understand how someone can miss a police car and why did you not hit the brakes when you spotted him."
At that point,I don’t remember very well but maybe I had a very slight, silent wish that you will come to know only when that happens to you.
And within my 10 minutes of that conversation, when I was again drifting away in my thoughts,he calmly said-"I have to pull over, there’s police behind me".
What,where?
And I looked behind and there was the unmistakable blare of lights that had shown on me just a few days back.
We pulled over and the police officer very coolly signed him a ticket for $105 and wished us a Happy Weekend on top of it.
Once he left, I wanted to say something but he spoke-
"I know you have been praying all the way for me to get a speeding ticket."
"Of course not, but where was your squint look –one eye on the speedometer and other on the cop cars?"

My budding writer

Friends,visitors and family,
Here I present the link to my son's blog:
http://ishaanc.blogspot.com
I made him start this to encourage his writing and illustration skills.

The Morning Monster-Mom

The other day we,some friends,had some meaningful conversation (for a change)about how we fare as moms,each day.And though it was run-of-the-mill routine everyday stories of what happens at our homes,one thing was clear that we all deal with the same ordeal each day.
At so many instances ,I was like -"No this is me, this is what I say,what I do!!"
How could you know?
That is my story,too.Actually, we are all sailing in the same boat,over the same waters.And especially the morning saga is ditto, everywhere.

Each morning, getting ready for work with a target to be on time and getting Ishaan ready for school before the schoolbus time is a Herculean task.Each second is calculated and pre-determined, not a moment to waste.

And as I go to his room to wake him up, I am very gentle and tell myself that this morning I am not going to be mad at him before sending him off to school,come what may.I try to be very patient and calm in the beginning.

But as the hands of the clock continue their rhythm and I see him lingering on with his toothbrush,filling his mouth with water and spitting it out while continuously making silly faces and noises,I start losing it.Then after getting showered and dressed, when he sits with his bowl of cereal and two Power-ranger toys and concentrates more on the Power-rangers fight than the cereal, my tone turns into a warning.

And then he declares that he doesnt like the school lunch for today and wants a home-packed lunch, I quickly pack something while constantly reminding him to wear his shoes, wear his glasses and zip his jacket.But all these words fall flat on him with absolutely no effect and when its just 5 mins to 8:30 he has to go potty.

That drives the nail home and I end up shouting like a harridan and sometimes hit him too -in nervousness, in anticipation of missing the bus, then driving him to school and eventually reaching late to work.
Then quickly I wipe his tears and hug and kiss him, when he's still controlling his sobs.
That heaviness,that guilt burdens me all day,sometimes.
Again, next day,next morning, pledge to myself-I'll be a good mom!!

Who did it?

"They put all of them in a tumbler of water!!", declared Ishaan when I sent him to fetch a comb for his hair.The they referred to the couple whom we recently hired for doing our work, for cleaning our house and who had just left after doing their job.
"No, I soaked the combs in soapy water to clean them", I replied.Strange, I do that every now and then and nobody noticed till date but since there was a fourth person in the house, anything amiss or out of place was attributed to them, already.

"I can't find those maroon earrings", I shouted as usually I do when I'm getting ready.And although this call is mostly ignored by hubby, this time pat cam the reply -"Ask Amelia!".So, to clear the haze a little bit - Amelia is the name of the cleaning lady who has just been at our place twice and already has multiple fingere pointing at her and her husband.Minutes later, I found my earrings lurking in a drawer, where I'd tossed them carelessly.

And today as I threw away the Clorox disinfecting wipes box from the bathroom, I couldn't find the new box in the designated cabinet.And the thought did flash my mind -"Ameliaaaa!!" Again after a few seconds I found them in another cabinet.This was just me being careless and disorganised and another person was bearing the brunt of it.
I always preach to others that if the cleaning ladies steal from houses, who would give them business?But here its me, shamelessly grabbing the fisrt opportunity in the vicinity.

God, how petty we humans can be?In pre-Amelia days, we would search and search for a thing because no fourth person inhabited our place and now we stick a name to each missing/misplaced item.

We found a scapegoat and we started loading it like mule!!

"Start the search from within", some sage of a person definitely has said it sometime.I definitely can't be the first one saying it, but how true it is!!

Also read this one from one of my fav blogs Life Rules

Candid ones - before I forget

Ishaan is growing up and makes some very logical conclusions and observations and his deductions from events leave us nonplussed.We laugh at his words clandestinely - he gets really wild if we do it on his face.But this is how a child's brain works:

That morning I was really upset with dad-and-son for something they both were party to.In the evening, dad and son had a talk and dad suggested that we both go and say sorry to mommy.Ishaan didn't like the idea and said-
I dont need to say sorry, she'll forget about me.

Ishaan sleeps is his own room each night and that day he was insisting he sleep with us.We always lecture him that you are old enough to sleep by yourself, to which he said-
Thats not fair.You both are older than me and still you get to sleep with each other.

We are always after him to improve his eating habits-cocentrate on eating and finish dinner in time.That day we went out to dinner with family friends and Ishaan finished his dinner before their kid, so they had some good things to say about his responsible eating.Back at home, he admonished us-
How come,others give me compliments more than you two do?

Food for Thought

Ishaan was reading this book yesterday - Ben Franklin flies a kite.
He got it from the school library and it was a slightly long chapter book.
I have to be involved when he reads chapter stories so that he comprehends the meaning and holds on to the thread of events,else he loses interest
So this was the story of Benjamin Franklin, one of the founding fathers of America.I learnt a lot about his life and achievements and was absolutely impressed by his quotations and witty one-liners.

And this one at the end of the book is still lingering in my mind:

“If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are dead and rotten, Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.”

There are hundreds of other quotes which we all have been hearing and reading since we learned to read and write, but I never knew the source of them until yesterday.So,teaching a child is a lesson to the parent,as well.Wonder if thats why its said -Chid is the father of man?.

Some of the other note-worthy ones by Mr Franklin are:

Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.

Be slow in choosing a friend, slower in changing.

Glass, china, and reputation are easily cracked, and never well mended.

Beware of the young doctor and the old barber.

He that lieth down with dogs shall rise up with fleas.

Any fool can criticize, condemn and complain and most fools do.

Whatever is begun in anger ends in shame.

To find out a girl’s faults, praise her to her girl friends.

He’s a fool who cannot conceal his wisdom.

What is the use of a new-born child? (When asked the use of a new invention)

A man wrapped up in himself makes a very small bundle.

A penny saved is a penny earned.

A place for everything, everything in its place.

A small leak can sink a great ship.

Fatigue is the best pillow.

Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn.

Of wishing wells and wishing trees

“This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune — often the surfeits of our own behavior — we make guilty of our own disasters, the sun, the moon, and the stars.”
These are Shakespeare’s words, who else could have such insight!!
And these words just had my mind racing at how easily we blame things on stars.
I don’t say that all astrology and astronomy is farce, but to what extent some people go to appease the stars-remember the voices of shani ka daan mahadaan heard everywhere on the streets of Delhi and people did drop coins into those bowls/thaalis with a diya burning and some oil, lest they are subject to the wrath of Shani. And how we give up on things, resigning to the destiny or fortune or kismet,and how the palm-readers, the tarot-card readers always thrive-they are in business, and how the holy ones exploit the simple people in the name of sun and stars and how the simple people go out of their way and take loans beyond their means to hold havans and give dakshinas.

And, however upright, scientific and educated we claim to be - most of us think twice before treading on a street which a cat has just crossed. And we refrain from looking at ourselves into cracked mirrors. And as kids, if we accidentally banged heads with somebody we would do it one more time, on purpose ,lest the black dog bite us.
And if we notice a stray eyebrow hair on somebody’s face we restore it to the owner, who wishes upon it and blows it away. And everyone knows the myths and lores about wishing upon a broken star.

And we all tie strings or pieces of cloth to tree branches in hope of getting our prayers answered. So every tree outside a durgah or a temple is laden with colorful wish knots tied by millions of simple aspirants, representing collective hopes of every age and background , from birth of a baby-boy to the end of a war and restoring world peace.

And its not just us Indians, the concept of a wishing well has its roots in the West- a well where, traditionally, wishes were thought to be granted, especially if coins were dropped into the water. And its not just a well and I have seen this in the US and also in Europe, every single smallest water body has loads of coins at the bottom of it – be it a fish pond in the zoo or the smallest fountain in a mall.
So every single plant becomes a sublime wishing tree and every small puddle of clear water enjoys the status of reverend wishing well.
http://www.encyclopedia.com/doc/1P2-1182685.html

Its friendhip all the way -says SRK!!

Watched two SRK movies back to back-Luck by Chance and Billoo Barber.Well,Luck by Chance is not an SRK movie but loved his special appearance and the special message he conveyed - "Never forget those friends who were there for you when you were nothing."

And Billoo Barber is a tribute to friendship and though it might not have done good on the SRK box office scale, I liked it.And I can't thank God enough for giving me great friends,friends for life,who have stood by me,forever - friendships cultivated from every stage of life- school,grad college,post-grad college,work...

And this one goes to my old school friends.And Sumita,my oldest friend whom I have known since kindergarten or 1st grade.I remember when our hindi teacher asked us the meaning of our names, she would sweetly say -Sumita- means a good friend.I don't know if her parents knew what a great friend she would grow up to be or she lives upto her name?All I know is that some people are just born with a heart of gold...
We have known each other since we were little girls -hair in pigtails and wearing maroon sweaters and brown pinafores,whispering to each other and pointing to the bad girls who waxed their legs already and who read the dirty Mills&Boon novels..you see we were the good girls..who read Nancy Drew detective books!!

We used to sit together in most of the classes and though we were good students -she better than me,we used to make fun of teachers to no end by scribbling on our books with pencils with the slightest hand movement,lest we be caught,and pointing it to the other and then erasing it.Later we had a notebook dedicated to parodies and poems on every single teacher, with a cartoon of her.This was contributed to by many other friends too...we were a gang by then-Nidhi,Roli,Seema,Sumita and me...like five fingers of a hand!!
Still remember when our Kohli ma'm was teaching the hindi poem by the elite Harivansh Rai Bachhan-

Ho kahin bhi aag, lekin aag jalni chaahiye

We contorted it to say:
Ho gaye hain patte ikattha, inko jalana chahiye
Tere koodedaan mein nahin to mere mein sahi
Ho kahin bhi aag, lekin aag jalni chaahiye

And then when we fell in love with Aamir Khan when QSQT was released, cutting out every picture of his from every magazine,newspaper we could lay our hands on!!And then going ga-ga over him in dil hai ki manta nahin and pointing out how cutely he ate the melon in the title song.And then growing up a little more, how the Jagjit Singh and ghazal fever caught us!!We have never ending memories that go back years and decades .

So now this Thanksgiving Sumita and family visited us for 3 days and we were the crazy girls again.And talking about movies, I asked her -Did you watch Jaane Tu ya Jaane Na and she said - I am too old for that movie,its for the teenagers!!
Didn't expect this from you Sumita, you who is always so full of life and fervor, don't let it die...we are growing old no doubt,but lets keep pushing it a wee bit farther.And we are as old as we think we are!!

Blogging-not a hobby!!

IN BRIEF: Something that one likes to do for pleasure in ones spare time.

This is the definition of hobby I got from google…now the story what led me to google it. Recently we had a chance to meet some immensely talented people-which led us, both me and hubby, to introspect and search if we are really good at doing anything?? And is there something constructive we can do and we love to do when we have some spare time. Result –zero, zilch, nada…!!

So one of the talented people is a guy who is a painter- not the lady, mind you, but the Mr is a painter. And what collection he had to flaunt at his place!! It was simply unbelievable - and he says soon as he has sometime on his hands, he picks the brush and starts to paint. And it results in a work of art to adorn the walls of the house. Its an achievement to be lauded.

The other person is an excellent photographer- and not just point-and-shoot kind, but someone who pays attention to all the details and if he has a background color in mind, he goes and buys a fabric and dye and really dyes the fabric!! And he buys different lenses and has a mini-lab to adjust the lenses to his need. The result- masterpiece pictures – to keep forever.

These are examples of worthy and creative hobbies which result in something you can cherish forever. So we were discussing about what we do in spare time, we hobbyless good-for-nothings- just sit on the couch and watch some senselessmovie.

At this hubby pointed out that you blog and you can do that when you have time-that totally qualifies for a hobby.
NO!!- I think blogging is not something you can do when you find time. It is compulsive, it can be so dominating and demanding!! You get some idea in your head and your fingers start itching to type in-spare time or not, you have to do it.
It keeps on gnawing at you from within.
And its like a heavy rock you carry on yourselves and keep feeling the weight of it, unless its typed in and posted on the blog.

Hope fellow bloggers agree with me.

Dhal gaya din...ho gayee raat

Just a few days back,we friends,were laughing at how our bottom-heavy old hindi film actresses like Asha Parikh used to dress up in tight-to-the-skin churidaar-kurta suits and dance and twist and somebody mentioned even playing badminton in the song Dhal gaya din...
Dhal gaya din...tik
ho gayee raat ..tik
This song I very well remember as a regular feature of Topaz Chitrahaar, every Wednesaday on our Crown Black-and-White TV,which had real shutters,which you had to open to switch on the TV and my mother had stitched a blue velvet cover to further protect it from dust.
So this song must be the only song choreographed over a badmiton game...with our very own Jeetendra in his patent tight-white pants and white shoes and also pictured in a white shirt here!!
The song begins by him trying to kiss the lady through the badminton net and never stops chasing her till the end..our old hero/heroines were damn innocent.And our hero pulls our sorts of shots with his racket(or racquet?) including hitting the shuttle from under his leg, to impress the lady.
And look at the dance after the game...she tugs at his elbow and threatens to run off with his arm and then he emulates.She falls down on the ground and then he falls down and then they both get up,circle around a little bit and then fall down together and then start hopping like frogs.Then getting up,some more chasing and finally he grabs her leg, never to let go.
It is really funny..but I can vouch for Jeetendra..he as a person would have found it inane and foolish..but look how our actors/actresses play along to amuse the audience, even if they end up looking like clowns, many a times.
Watch this soing as a tribute to our old hindi cinema..

Something New-Sabudana Vada

I had been thinking of making it, for days now ..actually since last year –since Dec13th 2007, hubby’s birthday. The reason – it’s a typical dish from his family and he loves it. And for me, the greatest way to relive a birthday or a festival is to do things like my mom did, the way it was done in my family.
So, wanted to surprise him with something straight from mon-in-law’s ktchen-but,last year I forgot to soak the sabudana, so didn’t work out.This year, I remembered to do it, but no luck-the sabudana box stared at me ,blank and empty, in the pantry..okay whatever God wishes!!
Jo hota hai ache ke liye hota hai.
So, for New Year, I specially went and bought it and soaked it. Now, the bigger piece of the conundrum-how to proceed, next?
I was about to Google, when he called mom-in-law for wishing the Happy New Year, of course….so there it was!! It was my turn to wish the New Year and before the question was asked –so what special are you cooking-I planted my question, which was -What are the steps to cook sabudana vada.
So two birds killed with the same stone-
1.I don’t have to google the recipe, because this was personalized,expert offsore cooking help.
2.Earned a little good entry in the daughter-in-law log, that she is cooking something special!!Believe me these small entries or post-its in that journal go a long way-these are small investments which can reap potential profits in the long run.

The result- the sabudana vadas were near perfection –crunchy and delectable.
So, I asked hubby matter-of-factedly –
“Do they taste like they did back home?”
“I don’t know about back home but this is my home and they taste perfect!!”

I was bowled over and touched by this unexpectedly sweet answer.

Happy New Year 2009

New Year - resolution??

Weight - don't have to lose anymore!!
Height - can't get more!!
Personality - can't change now!!

So the motto is -Don't worry....
just take rest and leave the rest!!
And the words that aptly describe what I want to do this year is:

kis kis ko yaad kijiye, kis kis ko roiyye
aaraam badi cheez hai, munh dhak kar soiyye

zzzz...

Moustache is family property!!

“This is the first tune I learnt on guitar”, remarked hubby, referring to the song ‘Ek hasina thi…ek deewana tha’, playing in the car. This was the nasal, distorted rendition of the melodious song, delivered by the great Himesh Reshamaiyya.
When did you play guitar?, I asked.
“That was in some year B.S., in the B.S. –Before Sara era”, he says.
And by the way “Girls go ga-ga over guitar”- this is the maximum-g-sentence, he’s ever said.
“Okay so why don’t you take up the guitar like Shahrukh Khan took up dancing in Rab ne bana di jodi,to woo his wife."
Yes sure, also I can color my hair funky and shave off my moonchh so you won’t recognize me.
Shaving off the moustache-that’s a risky proposition..don’t know how you will look...for me, you were born with the moustache, can’t picture you without it!!
But I can regrow them, if its not alright!!
At this moment, sensing that the events were going out of control,Ishaan butted in.
Usually he sits in the backseat and keeps listening to our conversation like a silent audience and intrudes when things start taking a serious turn and he can’t hold back.
“No!!you are not going to cut your moonchh”, he said in a voice suggestive of tears following.
Why?? I asked , that’s not going to hurt him.
Usually he prevents us from doing things which can cause the slightest physical harm.
“bcoz he will look horrible and he won’t be my dad anymore.”
So,sir you just can’t follow your whim and erase your moonchh, somebody is really possessive about it.You are accountable to him, now.

Bollywood or Hollywood

We watched this movie Dil Kabaddi, it being Rahul Bose and all. But this is not a review what this movie was or was not about, but one thing that stuck to me was the Anerican lifestyle they were portraying in the movies.
Konkana Sen makes sure Rahul Khanna’s refrigerator is stocked up with necessities when he was undergoing a tough time and what were those things-broccoli, soy milk and and I forget the other things.But these were all firangi food items, not the common Indian khana. And soon as they visit Rahul-Konkana’s place,on asked what would they like, Irfan-Soha demand for wine to drink.
And in any movies that I see these days, there’s not even once that the leading ladies wear Indian clothes, only their moms do. And they can’t even speak a sentence in hindi.If it begins in hindi,it has to end with isn’t it?,don’t you think? , you know….
Or it has to begin with I’m gonna…,I wanna..not to forget all the hindi songs which revolve around a sentence in english..where’s the party tonight,shake your body now , et all!!And recently watched this movie Kidnap which has this song –mausam ye awesome bada..I mean since when did awesome become the most common word in our vocabulary,ever since Americans started calling everything they find slightly okay,awesome.
So all these movies portray is that it’s a country full of wannabes.
Maybe I am too middle class, but day by day what we are trying to achieve is to become more Americanized, lose our culture and embrace the foreign. And more and more movies are promoting extra-marital affairs and divorces for just trivial reasons, as if it were the most in thing because Americans do that. Come on, we Indians marry for life, in most cases!!There is always room for exception, but let not exception become the norm.
And I am not from the conservative-no-western club, but each time I land in Delhi, I realize its more westernized than last time. I mean, nobody attends you in the malls if you speak in hindi, its like you are ganwaar and not worth a dime.So, its just not the movies, that’s the turn the lifestyle is taking at a very fast pace.
But I really wonder if the social studies books and atlases should change-like I remember we had a sardarji and a salwar-clad lady depicting North Indian dress, they should change it to show jeans-T-shirt etc. And only yesterday Ishaan was reading the atlas where the Indian thali was shown as the Indian food, that should change to broccoli,cheese and soy milk.
And the national language should be changed to english with accent.
And all that Bollywood has done already, it’s a step ahead.

My country-is for them

Much has been said by many people about the Mumbai terror attacks and there’s nothing new I have to add to it. CNN was showing live coverage of the siege day and night and we were glued to the TV, it being Thanksgiving weekend.

Fellow American neighbors and colleagues are ensuring well-being of relatives and friends back home and in the same breath they are expressing their shock at how things had been handled. It was all on the TV, the way the injured were manhandled and somehow pushed into already filled cars and the sorry sight of a single firetruck trying to douse the flames at Taj. They wonder if there are no ambulances and fire departments in India. And also if the police force and the terrorism squad don’t have proper bullet-proof vests and guns etc.

I am irked, I cannot defend my country because my country has everything – but not for everybody!! There is everything for the politically and the theatrically and the industrially important – the netas and abhinetas and the anndatas.They are protected by the most sophisticated weapons and the stealthiest commandos.

But for the common man who works hard to pay taxes to fill the government treasury, there is nothing, his life has no meaning at all.

There is no infrastructure because those who matter are above the infrastructure.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder

Usually my son and his dad are at daggers drawn to each other to the extent that sometimes Ishaan says -Mom lets go and live in a separate house and leave dad alone. Thats mostly because the dad insists more on discipline and is less patient and keeps reminding the kid that he’s not a baby any more and is a big boy, which the child is ready to admit only when it suits him.
But our recent trip to India for 3 weeks without dad has brought dad listed in the good books.
Here is an example of the flowing love and affection, which makes me a little jealous.

If I were the president...

So, the election is over.The mandate is given and we witness history as Barack Obama, a man of color,as they say, is the President of United States. Amidst all the argument and debate about socialism and taxes of Joe the Plumber, stood up the promise of We need change.
And Joe the Plumber is a legend,now!!
Ishaan was all excited about the election and was glued to the TV last night when the poll results were coming in and went to sleep only with the promise that we’ll tell him the result first thing in the morning.
But his aspirations and amibitions if he were the president are not philanthropic and global,but self-centered are selfish.Here’s what he wrote in school…

All prayers answered!!

As the nation goes to election, every individual has hopes that things will change and dreams will come true. Strange how one person’s claim to the White House percolates to every person who wants some questions answered, some policies changed, some things to end or some things to commence.
I was listening to the radio this morning and was really intrigued by how the voting decisions are taken and how wonderful and diverse the mosaic of peoples’ opinions is. No matter what turn the election takes, the only speckle of hope is that these small hopes are not overruled and razed to the ground. May this election be the divine intervention each one seeks in their lives.

A woman is voting for A with the hope of getting her husband,a soldier, back from Iraq.
An elderly gentleman is voting for B so that the medical insurance becomes affordable and he can get his routine insulin shots.
A young man hopes to get his job back, so he gets the stove burning for his family dinner.
A young mom votes for the candidate with young kids so that he can do good for kids education and healthcare.
A woman votes for a woman so that she can feel empowered and not side-saddled.
An immigrant votes for B so that he can get the immigration process expedited and mitigate the agonizing wait.
A house owner votes so that he can retain the roof on his kids’ heads.
A retired woman votes to get better pension and social security benefits.
A man votes so that he and his race is looked upon with some respect.

No one knows what the new president’s pandora box holds for them, but each has the faith and the belief that there’ll be some treat for them.
They’ve been waiting for Santa!!

Tailor Promises!!

Breaking a promise,going back on one's words always causes irreparable damage to someone, somewhere.And people just commit things without a thought,without weighing the consequences,because it doesn't affect them;they are not at the receiver end.After all ,kya farak padta hai?
And there is a special profession which is thriving on fake promises-that is tailoring.In India,specially for ladies Indian clothes,tailors are the messiahs, if not Gods.Because if you buy a saree, you need to get it hemmed and you need to get the blouse stitched and if you buy a stitched salwar-suit,there is a high probability that you will need to get it altered-even if its just a wee bit,1/2-1" here and there..after all we are women.
And ladies,if you are short of time and its a last minute purchase for some special occasion,then start fasting and praying to God with all that you have to save your skin because the tailor already has you doomed.
This wisdom struck me this time while on my India trip for my brother's wedding.Since I landed just 6 days before the wedding,I bought some things from Delhi to be altered in Roorkee.And this lady tailor had promised my mom that she would deliver on time.So it was peace of mind and the day I reached home I went to her and she promised to give it when I wanted.
That particular dress was for the haldi function and that evening I demand my dress and she says I had asked for the next day as I were a determined liar.I said what I could to her but then, I still had one dress for the mehendi function.So I made a mental calculation that I'll swap the two..so all was not lost.And she again promised in all eagerness to give it the next morning.Next afternoon was the mehendi function and I appear before her in the morning and she still hasn't done it because she had been sick and she was working on my blouse for the reception function in all her illness.I wanted to snatch it away from her and give to another tailor, but all the tailors in the town are busy for karva chauth dresses,so just wait patiently.Its always something with them tailors-Diwali,Eid,Raksha Bandhan,Karva Chauth :-(!!!!
So,I sulkily wear some old dress for the mehendi function.
In the end,she gave the blouse for the reception at least and I can't thank my stars enough for that.
OK..maybe lady tailors are unprofessional and things don't go wrong everytime.So this was after the wedding and there was ample time and I gave another two dresses to stitch to another reputed tailor,known to keep his word.He promised to deliver on 10/16 and I was to fly back on 10/18,so I had to be in Delhi on 10/17.So on the morning of 16th, I go to this guy's shop to pick up my stuff and he said- Wo doosre bhaiyya ko diya hoga aapne, aaj ke liye to kuchh nahin dena tha.
Ok ,so give it back to me unstitched..No can't be done..it was in some workshop already!!
This time I lost my cool and told him all blah,blah..why did you say yes if you could not and I am travelling out of town etc.And the amazing thing about these guys is that they keep listening and nodding and doing their job, all at the same time.
In the end of it,he said sheepishly-Madam,aur bhi kuchh kehna reh gaya kya?Kahan jaana hai aapko,agli baar aaoge to le lena.
Agli baar?
I told him I was leaving the country and not sure when will be the next visit.
Then he said-Are pehle kyun nahin bataya Amreeka jaana hai aapko,aaj dopahar tak le lena.
It seems I had to play the US card to get it done,something that I hate mentioning.Wish I had known that earlier,I still would have seeked Uncle Sam's help,against any principles.And finally I got my dresses that afternoon.
But I learnt the hard way that whatever your dressing plans are,tailor is the final arbitrator.
A woman proposes,the darzi disposes.

Too busy to pee!!

The two top things kids hate spending their time on are going to the restroom and going to sleep. Life is too full of fun and adventure and promise to shut down the eyes or spend behind closed doors in the restroom. While for us adults ,shutting down against life-sleep is the greatest rejuvenation and respite. And attending the calls of nature is taking rest,that’s why its aptly called the Restroom.

Ishaan hates the mention of sleep, taking rest. Even if his eyelids give away and are too heavy to stay open, and his eyes are red and sore,he denies that he’s sleepy and keeps on convincing us desperately to let the lights in his room be on for just a few more minutes. Its like the biggest insult you can hurl upon him calling him tired and sleepy. And he tries hard to keep his eyes open and his mouth talking until sleep finally engulfs him and drifts him away gently, unknowingly.

And a visit to toilet is again a thing that has to be procrastinated and postponed until the very moment that the bladder gives away finally. His bladder is really under a stress test all the time. Till the time he is at school and daycare, those are precious moments with friends which cannot be missed at any cost. So moments after I pick him up, he starts pestering me to drive fast because he has to go.
And once home, he just can’t hold it till I unlock the door, screaming, pleading –“I’m almost peeing in my pants” and rushes to the restroom.
And the story doesn’t end here. On weekends he is busy playing at home, too busy to go. And the moment we land at any restaurant or any store, that’s the time he can afford to go pee. So,in all grocery stores that we frequent, all pharmacies, all malls or restaurants we go to, we know exactly where the restrooms are, so we are able to make it there before he wets his pants.
And last year at Delhi, Connaught Place when shopping at the otherwise shining and upmarket and expensive Allen Solly store, he comes down with his usual request. While I was thankful that at least they had a tiny restroom or we would have to rush outside in a mad search-to-no-avail, but he whines and complains about how small and dirty it is and the flush system doesn’t work. Not to mention that they couldn’t even spare the littlest restroom space to stack some posters, cartons, carry bags.
Attention to detail, people!! You’re doing business!!

Fun Fact:Heard on the radio that some department stores in Europe have their employees wear diapers in the busy holiday shopping season to save time on restroom breaks...ewwww!!

On a Top Blog List

A friend of mine e-mailed me this morning to inform me that my blog was on the India Blogs list -Directory of Top Blogs in India and Most Widely Read Indian Bloggers.
http://www.labnol.org/india-blogs/indian-bloggers.html
Fully sceptical and feeling it-cant-be, I clicked on the above URL and then searched for my name..once I found Sara, I was again certain that the link would lead to some other Sara's blog.But no,it was unmistakably the humble sarasid.blogspot.com.I am listed under General,Everything Else

Yes,I am shocked but it feels great and I want to thank all the readers of this blog..those who comment and also those who read and leave silently on a tiptoe.
Thank you all for your clicks and spending your invaluable time on my blog.
I started this blog just to break from the monotony of life and to do something I feel happy about...just for myself.And I never knew I had so much to write about before I started;there are stories hidden and conspicuous everywhere just waiting to be narrated and given life.And after I started blogging, my mind is constantly occupied and building a frame/structure to build upon..this preoccupation often startles me when someone suddenly calls my name or walks up suddenly to start talking to me.
The fact that I am listed under General, Everything Else shows that I never thought of giving any direction or theme to my blog,it just goes with the flow. And honestly I do not advertize and publicize my blog too much or decorate and add frills to it,neither do I write about current topics and newsmakers to get some clicks.
I just write what I feel like and I am grateful to the people who like my sometimes boring and senseless ravings and rantings and musings.

If I can't have you

A song can do wonders, at times and that too if you are bombarded with the same lyrics and tune day in and day out,morning till evening, and of course you also have to be half-crazy.This can-work-wonders song, an old one was among the playlists at my work for a long time last month and subconsciously kept on hammering me and bothering me...

If I can't have you
I don't want nobody, baby
If I can't have you... If I can't have you
I don't want nobody, baby
If I can't have you...

Compromise and settling in for what-you-get can arguably be a virtue,but at times you stare stark at yourself and question what you really want,and can you be adamant about it,and when exactly you need to keep your foot down.
And this song made me do that..but no I have not taken any pledges or made any life-changing decisions or earth-shaking achievements. But yes,all I have succeeded in is getting myself a handbag, the one that I love..
I am a very docile person when it comes to shopping and mostly hubby does the selections for me and I go by his choice.But this time,I wanted a handbag and I didn’t want a leather one..I wanted something different and I had my eyes fixed on the fabric quilted ones, which would be light to carry and different.
But the only and the most important arcanum was where to get it?So,we visited some stores and didn’t find that kind…the routine leather or canvas!!
Hubby did shortlist some nice regular ones for me and handed to me one by one while I tried them on….thats what I expect of him when we go shopping. But I didn’t like any of them but he had me cajoled and brainwashed into buying one-but once home it looked listless and I was not quite satisfied with it.It was a long weekend, so we went shopping again and the next day again he talked me into buying another on. We can always return it if you don’t like it at home-this was his argument and it works most of the times and there is no return- I just grow into liking my purchase, end of story, happy but compromised ending!!
But not this time and I went back to work after the weekend and it started..

If I can't have you
I don't want nobody, baby

What person am I if I can accept a second choice and give in so easily?
And I geared up and challenged myself into finding my coveted handbag.
And google didn’t help much this time…bet my query was inappropriate and I’m beginning to rely heavily on amazon these days.
And I typed in quilted handbag and voila!! I was already a step ahead, the bags were designed and sold under the label Vera Bradley.
So I was inching closer to my destination and next stop was verabradley.com and search for locations around us.
Yes, the bags were sold in speciality gift stores only and I found one moderately close to work, considering how I loathe driving. And I actually sneaked out at lunch for my clandestine mission and landed myself at this store which is a big achievement for me..those who know me can vouch for it..the lazy one that I am , I would normally wait for chauffeur-husband to drive me and wait on me while I shopped, if only it were not for….
If I can’t get you,I’ll have nobody baby…
And back home,dear hubby’s eyes almost popped out of the sockets when he saw my newest booty proudly on display on the kitchen-island with breathless when-where-how did you, how could you get this?

Times of Convenience

.
Time and tide wait for no man, but a man is free manipulate the times in the clocks to suit him, as long as he can reach them.
This wisdom has dawned on me this morning when I was just about to have Ishaan miss his schoolbus, because I trusted this clock in the living room and it showed 8:15AM while it was actually 8:30AM.I sat on the couch relaxed and happy and proud that I had got him ready and dressed and fed 15mins ahead of time…so laze around a little bit and lecture Ishaan about being good at school and eating all of his lunch and be an attentive listener et al.
And then just in time,my eyes wandered to the kitchen and the gas stove displayed 8:30AM…my cellphone again 8:30…a momentary abulia…but two things can’t be wrong and I darted for Ishaan’s backpack and sandals. Somehow I helped his shoulders into the backpack and barely fastened his sandals and both of us just made it outside, just about one second before the bus….thank God ,just once, for late bus drivers. Otherwise, I would have to drop him to school and get to work later than I already amAfter the bus left I promptly called hubby to let him know that the particular clock is running slow and needs a battery replacement or repair, first thing in the evening.
“Which clock”, he says “TV ke upar waali… that’s OK….no, I mean I know that.”
So, that was it…I didn’t hear the rest of it and got the crux-it was not the clock but its location. Since its directly above the TV, it had been deliberately violated to suit the one who could reach it. It was strategic planning-so he could buy the precious 15 more mins of TV time, so when I start hollering that its getting late, almost 11, every night, he could say –Oh, its still quarter to 11.That was clever and I didn’t know for how long it was like this!!
And when I think of it, all clocks in our home show different times, the one in the bedroom is 10 minutes faster. The logic behind that is so that we can get up earlier…when its actually 7:00, it shows 7:10 and creates that urgency to jump off the bed as its past the hour.
The only ones that show accurate times are my kitchen microwave and gas stove LED displays…the kitchen ones are spared-partly because food should be on time,I guess,and partly because they are within my arms’ reach and I can adjust them back.
Tampering the clocks is one way of taking undue advantage of height,among thousand others.

Private Gold Mines

Complexion-Fair
Height -5’4”
Weight- Before or After?
Seriously, these brides should be weighed before and after getting decked up to get the real idea. And in some cultures, like mine, the bride’s uncle is supposed to lift up the bride and seat her on the doli/decorated car when she leaves home, at vidaai after marriage.
The uncles should please practice with the after-weight, lest they end up with a broken backs and a heavy surprise…gosh, I didn’t expect this!!
Actually Kerala, now called, God’s won country should rightly be called Gold’s own country.I wonder if the rates of gold are evaluated and discussed there, per kg instead of per tolah or 10gms, a very conservative measure,like in every other part of India.

Every time a marriage is planned and arranged, the always shooting up rate of gold is the primary concern, and soon as it drops by a few bucks, people flock to the jewelers, threatening a stampede. Don’t ever forget, gold is the goal. Phones start ringing among relatives, instructing and advising to buy today, lest it climbs up again. What a gold rush!! After all, what is a wedding, without the glitter of gold?And even if no marriage is on the cards in the family, its for the future marriage of Guddi, which could be anywhere between 15-20 years or more.

As for Kerala, as my bachelor friends informed me, that Mallu girls are very beautiful, fair, educated and not ultra-modern and home-loving and docile. So they’ll be bound to home and hearth and their dads deliver them, most parts covered with gold!! What else can guys ask for?
So,all those yet to be harnessed and bound,young stallions,eligible bachelors-Kerala is the place,you all should start seeking, pronto and make it your state-in-law.
If you are born poor, its God’s fault….but if your dad-in-law is poor, its your fault, totally!!