7:30 AM. I am about to finish my fourth and last loop around our apartment community. It’s a beautiful morning, with a lovely cool breeze and bright warm sunshine. Add to it our community’s green lawns, twittering birds and gorgeous terrace gardens in every other apartment and I’m in seventh heaven. I feel fresh and chirpy, ready to take on the world. Except the canine variety, as I am about to find out.
Despite my cheery state of mind, I’ve been walking for a half hour now, at a fairly brisk pace I must add, and am somewhat tired and distracted as a result. So I fail to spot the friendly neighborhood puppy, unleashed as usual, still at a safe distance from me. And I walk on, without a care in the world, entering the puppy’s ‘territory’ with my next few steps I suppose.
Said puppy bounds over playfully to greet me. She’s a friendly sort I’m sure, her little yelps and barks meaning ‘Good morning! What a pleasant day!’ in doggie-speak no doubt. Unfortunately for me, I don’t understand doggie-speak. So I stop dead in my tracks. And look around helplessly for the puppy’s owner. Said owner, flirting with the next-door neighbor, takes her own sweet time to amble over. Still, she’s nice enough to throw a lazy ‘She doesn’t bite!’ my way, halfway through her stroll.
Notice how every dog-owner earnestly believes this about their dog? ‘Maybe not, but I don’t want to be the first to find out you’re wrong!’, I want to yell back. A thousand different retorts rush through my mind. One of which goes – ‘Isn’t it a community rule to have your dog on leash at all times? I stay here too. Can’t I take my morning walk in peace?’ Now don’t get me wrong. I love doggies! I’ll even take your word for it if you insist they are adorable creatures. All I ask for is they stay outside a 10 foot radius around me. Is that too much to wish for, tell me?
But the best time to argue with a dog-owner is not when their dog is itching to throw herself on you and is being held back only by the owner’s smartly barked commands, I ruefully realize. And go home to lick my wounds. There are better ways to practice my assertiveness skills, I tell myself. I can always call up the community manager to make an anonymous complaint in the evening. From the safety of my home preferably.
Yes, such weighty matters have been crossing my normally carefree mind quite often lately. Perhaps this is exactly how twenty-somethings are supposed to react to their approaching thirties? In that case, it’s nice to know I am sticking to the script, thank you very much! But if you ask me, I blame our generation’s favorite obsession – facebook – instead.
Last week, a couple we know from our college days posted pictures of their Memorial Day weekend camping trip. Two dozen bright smiling faces, all seemingly ecstatic in each other’s company. How nice! Except that I don’t have that big a group of friends, forget going on a camping trip with them, I thought wistfully.
‘My husband’s joining an elite leadership grooming program in XYZ bluechip MNC!’, someone I barely knew in college wrote in yesterday. And proceeded to post pictures of her swanky new BMW a few minutes later. Hmmph!
And then I came across another long-lost friend. With a happy-family-portrait (handsome husband, lovely wife, cherubic kid and gorgeous mansion in the background) as her profile picture. Now this was the last straw!
Was everyone I knew becoming rich, successful, pretty and popular overnight? Why this sudden rush to buy houses and BMWs and announce pregnancies? Was I getting left behind somehow?
Now regular readers of this blog would (hopefully) agree I am not usually this jealous, insecure or petty. But its tough to think rationally (and nicely) all the time. So rather than mope around or dismiss my feelings and pretend I’m above it all, I thought I’d sit down and analyze a few things instead. Find out if I am really happy. And if there are things I could do to be happier?
On second thoughts, I don’t think true happiness can be relative anyhow. The momentary flash of joy that comes with a diamond ring or that long sought-after promotion perhaps. But not the real sort of happiness that one feels from deep within. And I always thought I was happy that way. So why am I panicking now?
But more on that later…
P.S. In the meanwhile, I’d love to hear from you friends – how happy do you think you really are? Do you feel envious of others at times? Go on, be honest. I promise not to judge!
P.P.S. Why do people feel compelled to share every detail of their life on facebook do you think? Everything from ‘I got a fantastic review at work yesterday’ to ‘my husband was mean to me last night’? Someone let me in on the secret please!
Sometime back, I had written about my cousin M and the initial adjustment problems she faced in her marriage last year. Thankfully, when I met her this time, she seemed much happier. I didn’t want to pry too much and she didn’t seem keen to discuss it either, but she let me know in her own way that she had made peace with her situation. Or perhaps her in-laws and husband have changed for the better, which is what I hope has happened. Either way, M was happy and glowing (and pregnant!) and we had a wonderful evening together.
Something of the old uneasiness did slip in to our conversation once though. M was telling me about their frequent trips to her husband’s ancestral village in the Konkan region of Maharashtra. Their family are the traditional custodians of the village temple it seems and their presence is required for all the big festivals where the family does the pooja and serves food to the entire village. How wonderful, was my first thought! Except that M then mentioned that only their family and the other Brahmins in the village are served food in the main temple while everyone else eats outside. And she seemed distinctly uneasy when she said that.
The background to this story is that M’s family is from a so-called lower caste and there was considerable ‘reluctance’ to their marriage from her husband’s Brahmin family initially. (Notice how there’s no real opposition these days? It’s a more polite but just as firm reluctance instead!) I suppose M is considered a Brahmin after her wedding which is how she gets to serve food and eat in the temple now. But what if her parents were to attend the pooja someday? Would they eat outside with people from their own caste? Or would some of their daughter’s Brahminness rub off on them for a day and they get to eat inside as a special privilege?
I’m sure these thoughts were running through M’s mind as we spoke. Her normally cheerful face seemed troubled for a moment. And then she hurriedly changed the topic and we moved on to speak of happier things. But the moment stayed with me after I went home. Why do people still follow these caste rules? What is the point in this day and age where caste plays no role in how educated or cultured a person really is? Don’t they see the futility and injustice in these distinctions? I can understand the temple may not accommodate the whole village. Why not serve food on a first-come-first-serve basis inside the temple then? The latecomers can very well eat outside!
I couldn’t help but contrast M’s in-laws’ attitude with my nana-nani’s then. M’s mother, an impoverished orphan struggling to support herself and her aged grandmother – her only living relative, was my mother’s best friend in college. When my nana-nani got to know her, they ‘adopted’ her (emotionally, not legally) and she’s been a part of our family ever since. I call M’s mother mavshi, my mamas buy the same presents for her as they do for my mom and my ‘real’ mausis on raksha bandhan and I get really confused and irritated each time someone questions if M is actually my cousin! My mom’s family is Brahmin too but tell me, how does that even enter the picture?
Brought up in a household obsessed with Hindi film music, my exposure to any sort of ‘non-Indian’ music is so limited, it’s not funny at all. So when the husband proposed we go to a Yanni concert last Friday, I was skeptical. Isn’t he the guy who played at the Taj Mahal a few years ago, I asked? That was the sum total of my knowledge of the master pianist. But the husband seemed rather keen, so we went. And I ended up being one of the loudest cheerleaders in our part of the stands. Now if only I could whistle, I’d surely have been the loudest!
To say the concert was good is to insult the magic of those two hours. There was divine music, exquisite dancing and a certain special something in the air. It was superb, magical, enthralling – basically out of this world. Tell me – where else do you get to see a big happy smile on everybody around you? The musicians seemed the happiest of the lot. They indulged in oneupmanship and cheered the loudest when their teammates outdid them. There was a special bond amongst them that was a privilege to simply watch. The evening ended all too soon, as is often the case with enjoyable evenings. The band played encore after encore, yet we in the audience hungered for more. We were on our feet, clapping and cheering and basically just refusing to leave!
In my post-concert euphoria, I was all set to be suitably grateful to the husband but that was not to be. On our way out, he asked me if the Taj Mahal guy was any good. With a transparently halfhearted attempt at keeping a straight face. Naturally, he got a withering glare for his efforts. The man is yet to learn when not to press home his advantage!
It’s official. My legs and I are not friends anymore. This is how it happened. Our friends, S and A, and the husband and I went biking the Lehigh Gorge trail at Jim Thorpe, PA yesterday.
“25 miles of pure nature, including small waterfalls, and continuous views of the Lehigh River. Make sure to bring your camera, lunch, and plenty of water for this exciting journey!” – the trail description read.
Sounds good, doesn’t it? Except that we sort of missed the 25 miles part, concentrating on the waterfalls and nature bit instead. And how I wish they had mentioned bringing along a signed, sealed contract with our legs rather than the camera – I promise not to declare a strike mid-way down the trail, I promise not to go to sleep in the middle of nowhere etc.
So there we were, starting out bright and early at around 3 PM. The shuttle service that took us to the top of the trail was very reassuring – you should be back in about 3 hours, it’s an easy downhill ride. Plus it’s almost summer, daylight is till 8 o’clock, we told ourselves. How late can we possibly get?
The first 5 miles were just as beautiful as we had imagined them to be. Pure unadulterated nature – a playful river on one side, cascading waterfalls every few minutes on the other, chirping birds, a cool breeze – heaven!
Except that the easy downhill trail we were promised never materialized! And then the legs decided to make themselves heard.
My legs (grumbling): We are being ignored, you take us for granted, we protest this shoddy treatment!
Me (slightly alarmed): Err, no, no, what are you talking about? I love you, truly!
My legs (angrily): So when was the last time you gave us some exercise? And now you want us to carry you 25 miles – no way!
Me (totally alarmed now): Please, let’s go home and discuss this, okay?
Right leg (fierce and determined): No! We are tired of your false promises. We demand a break now! I am going off to sleep – bye!
Left leg (after a while): Wait, I’m coming too. Bye, JnM!
So there we were, four tired souls and a pair of legs on strike, somewhere mid-way along the 25 mile trail and with twilight fast approaching. There was no cellphone reception, no helplines, not a soul in sight and no access to a motorable road or civilization except at the end of the trail!
So what happened next? Please don’t ask, I don’t want to think about it ever. If I am writing this post, we must have come home, right? Right!
P.S. God bless the park ranger who found us, 3 miles short of the trailhead, and gave us a ride to the parking lot. I would have gone down on my knees to thank her except for those stupid legs, remember?
My first attempts at 55 Fiction – comments eagerly anticipated!
—
Renewal
She winced as he flung the catalog and walked away, slamming the door shut.
“Why try to fill the home when my heart feels so empty?”
Hours crept by, unnoticed. And then he walked in again, her favorite daffodils in hand. Her face lit up as their eyes met.
“Which color should the curtains be?”
—
Wicked!
“We made our plans months ago, don’t you remember?”
He was right. But how to cancel the dinner invite? She dialed M’s number, still unsure.
“I’m so sorry D, I can’t make it tomorrow…”
“No problem, next weekend?”
She struggled to hide her glee and sound understanding instead. What luck that M had spoken first!
—
Trust
“I’ll be right here, go in and have fun baby!”
Her heart swelled as he walked away. Soon, he was happily at play. Perhaps she could leave now?
She struggled to concentrate at work all day.
In the evening – “How was your day sweetheart? Didn’t you miss me?”
“But you were just outside Mama!”
So finally I am back, again! And as promised, I’ll start with a roundup of our (now not-so) recent India trip. There’s so much to write though that I thought I’ll do it in episodes, to keep things short and interesting.
So let me start with the highlight of my trip – attending my childhood friend A’s engagement ceremony the very day I landed in Mumbai. Living in the US, I have missed many such weddings and social occasions in the past two years. Add to it the fact that A actually postponed her engagement by a day so I could make it – her boyfriend was keen on Valentine’s day and she had to really push him to agree for the 15th – and I was naturally ecstatic!
A has been my best friend since we were toddlers. We were neighbors and our moms were best friends. So with both our dads working abroad, our families spent almost every evening together. Our home was on the ground floor, A’s on the third. Be it A’s mom, V mavshi, coming home from work or A and her brother coming home from school, a trip to the third floor hardly ever happened without a longish stop on the ground floor!
The two moms went for walks and vegetable shopping in the evening, while A and I played outside or chatted and giggled behind closed doors in our teenage years, struggling to get rid of A’s pesky younger brother as we got older. We watched our evening television together and the night meal was usually shared as well, to the delight of the bai who cooked in both homes!
This cosy semi-family unit was shockingly shattered one day when V mavshi was diagnosed with leukemia and passed away soon after. We were all heartbroken but A took it the worst. Sadly, our friendship too did not survive this loss.
We were both sixteen then and about to enter college. We made new friends in college and got busy with our new lives. Not that it had to, but something changed in our friendship that year. It’s hard to say what and I’ve been struggling with the why for many years now but from ‘best friends’ we turned into ‘good friends’ and later, just occasional acquaintances.
The change was hard for me to accept. I was never a gregarious person – I’ve always had just one or two close friends at any point of time and for many years, A and I were so close that I had no need for anyone else. She was like the sister I never had and people often mistook us for twins when we were out together.
I could see A withdraw into a shell after her mother’s death. In many ways, this was perfectly understandable and I tried my best to support her in those difficult times. But gradually I got the impression she resented my efforts to get close to her again. She had made new friends in college and she very obviously preferred their company to mine. I tried discussing it with her, but her response was always the same bland – no, nothing of that sort, you are imagining things. I had no choice but to let go after a point.
Was I not a good enough friend to A in her time of need? I struggled to answer this question for years. Perhaps not. Or maybe I really was imagining things. Did we simply drift apart? My hunch is this – my mother and I reminded A of those good old times when all of us had so much fun together and she wanted to stay away from those bitter-sweet memories and therefore, us.
I had accepted that I might never get to know the real reason. But I was pleasantly surprised when A got in touch with me last year. She called, wrote a pretty emotional email and generally behaved as if we had never drifted apart! And then the engagement invite. Which was just a day before when I was scheduled to land in Mumbai.
‘I really want to come’, I said. ‘Yes, you should be there’, she insisted. ‘But my tickets are booked, they cannot be changed!’ ‘No problem, we’ll get engaged on the 15th instead!’ ‘Really, can you do that? But isn’t your boyfriend keen on V day?’ ‘I’ll manage him, don’t you worry’, A grinned! Needless to say, I was thrilled!
And that is how I managed to attend my childhood friend A’s engagement on the morning of 15th February, only a few hours after I landed in Mumbai. The ceremony was lovely, A looked radiant, she squealed and ran to me as soon as she spotted me – I couldn’t have been happier. It was a perfect start to my India vacation!
Nothing brightens up a room better than a bunch of colorful flowers, I have always believed. And no gift gladdens my heart more than a surprise bouquet thrust into my hands!
So the husband, after almost four years of marriage, is finally learning. Here’s the welcome home gift he got for me a couple of days after we were back in New York.
The husband simply warmed my heart!
Then last week, our office participated in the American Cancer Society’s Daffodil Days campaign. And I, as usual, forgot to order our daffodils. As I had forgotten last year. When a kind elderly colleague saw my crestfallen face and insisted I keep his daffodil plant.
This year, anticipating my forgetfulness perhaps, he had ordered two. And left one by my desk with a lovely little note explaining the gift.
‘Please don’t!’, I protested, ‘You got me one last time too!’
‘Let’s make it a tradition then, shall we? I’ll get you one next year as well!’
So that, my friends, is my dear little daffodil plant!
And finally there is this dear old lady in our office who’s off on a long leave, recuperating after multiple knee and hip operations. In the midst of all that excitement and pain, she took time out to send daffodils to all of us who’d sent over a get-well-soon basket to her home last month.
It sounds so simple, doesn’t it, the secret to making others happy?
Now if only we’d remember to do it everyday!
I am back! The trip was wonderful, short but action-packed. There’s lots to write about but I’m still settling in, so bear with me please.
Till then, I’ll leave you with the 50 secrets PackofJellyBeans tagged me to tell you about.
1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
Yes. A mythological character, mother to one of our most famous Gods. I hated my name when I was young, for all the teasing it brought on.
2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?
Last Sunday, when we left Mumbai to come back home to New York. I didn’t really cry, but my eyes were wet when we entered the airport terminal and I couldn’t see my parents anymore.
3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
Naah, hate it! It’s small, round and childish. I envied people with gorgeous calligraphy-like cursive handwriting when in school. But it hardly matters now. My hand shakes when I write more than a couple of sentences these days.
4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
None. I am vegetarian.
5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?
No, not yet.
6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
I am tempted to say – definitely yes – but something holds me back. I have always had very few friends – in school, college or otherwise. And even fewer of these friendships have lasted over the years.
7. DO YOU USE SARCASM?
No. I am not very good at it. People close to me tell me I am too straightforward for my own good.
8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?
Yes.
9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?
Not for a billion bucks!
10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?
I don’t like cereals. But since I am forced to eat them nowadays, Honey Bunches of Almonds is the least intolerable one I find.
11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
Never! And always get scolded by my parents/husband when they catch me at it.
12. IF YOU WERE TO PICK YOU OWN FIRST NAME, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
When I was young I’d pick a new name for myself every few months. But right now I have made my peace with my own name.
13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?
Chocolate! I rarely ever order any other ice cream when given a choice.
14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
The expression on their face. I am usually attracted to people with happy smiling faces. I rarely notice clothes or shoes at first glance.
15. RED OR PINK?
Pink. All sorts of pink shades. But red is good too. Dark rich reds. On second thoughts, I might actually prefer red to pink these days. Have I grown up?
16. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?
I am bad at reading situations. Or rather, I rarely try to. I act by impluse rather than thought. I cannot plan my actions and that gets me into trouble more often than not.
17. WHOM DO YOU MISS THE MOST?
My parents of course. Not that you would believe it if you saw us together – we are constantly arguing over the smallest of things. And I miss the husband terribly whenever he isn’t with me. Which rarely happens these days.
18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO COMPLETE THIS LIST?
Sure!
19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?
Black pants and shoes. Boring, I know! But I am in office.
21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
Nothing! Except for occasional sneezes and bless yous from co-workers, a habit that always amuses me.
22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?
Yellow. It’s a happy happy color.
23. FAVORITE SMELLS?
My favorite flowers – Rajnigandha, my favorite foods being cooked, forest or country smells, the combination of mehendi and nilgiri oil, the husband’s cologne or aftershave or whatever it is he uses that smells so nice!
24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
My boss.
25. HOW DO YOU KNOW THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU?
Through her blog.
26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?
Cricket, what else? But I need good company, the kind that’ll holler and bite their nails with me. I’m not much into sports otherwise.
27. HAIR COLOR?
Black.
28. EYE COLOR?
Black.
29.DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?
Yes. When I am not feeling lazy. Most times it’s the good old chashma.
30. FAVORITE FOODS?
All sorts of chaat. Pav Bhaji. Maggi. Papads.
31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
Happy all the way!
32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
Jab We Met. For the umpteenth time on the plane back home.
33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?
A bottle green and black jurta with mustard print on the neck and sleeves.
34.SUMMER OR WINTER?
Summer in New York, winter (such as it is) in Mumbai.
35. HUGS OR KISSES?
Hard to choose, I cannot do without either!
36. DESCRIBE YOUR PENCIL CUP?
It is a beautiful black Rajasthani cup with green engravings on it. Oh, and it’s currently empty except for a pair of earrings!
38. FAVORITE ARTIST(s)?
Madhuri Dixit. I had a huge Madhuri fixation in childhood. I’d scream on seeing her even today.
39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?
I am reading an assortment of Indian author books I picked up in Mumbai last week. I was so excited to get them, I started reading all of them at once! Q & A was the one I read last night.
40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?
The name of the company I work for.
41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT?
Barack Obama on CNN.
42. FAVORITE SOUND(S)?
Bird sounds early in the morning.
43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES?
Haven’t listened to either!
44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?
Depends upon how you’d define home. My current home is thousands of miles away from my former home!
45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?
I am told I am tough to beat in a debate.
46. WHERE WERE U BORN?
Bombay. By the sea overlooking Haji Ali. Romantic na?
47. FAVORITE PIECE OF JEWELRY?
Earrings. I cannot leave my home without a matching pair on.
48. HOW DID YOU MEET YOUR SPOUSE/SIGNIFICANT OTHER?
I was with my best friend whom he happened to know. She introduced us. I hardly even noticed him then. The interesting part is that all our first three meetings were chance meetings on the streets of Mulund.
49. FAVORITE SONG?
Please don’t ask. Each time I like a song, I tell the husband – this one’s on my top ten list. Your top ten list has hundreds of songs he jokes. But I think I am especially partial to Pehla Nasha from JJWS if you insist I choose. Reminds me of the romantic young me.
50. FAVORITE MUSICAL?
Mughal-E-Azam. Amazing songs and beautifully woven into the story.
A confession – I really enjoyed doing this tag. Felt like one of those movie stars giving interviews for filmi magazines!
Last weekend, we took off to the Pennsylvania Poconos with a group of friends, eight of us adults and a cherubic two year old. What do I say of the experience?
Picture this – a remote mountainside cottage surrounded with snow. An old-fashioned fireplace to keep us warm. Playing games till 4 o’clock in the morning. Getting up at noon and eating maggi for brunch. Walking out and making a snowman right at our doorstep. Stamping in the snow to loosen it up for our snowman. Giggling at the silliest of jokes and sometimes for no reason at all.
An entire day of skiing and snowtubing. Interesting discussions and lots of banter and laughter. Three days of no internet, no television, no cellphone reception – almost no contact with the outside world. Just plain and simple fun! In short, an idyllic weekend! How I wish we had more of those!
Important note: I will be taking a short blogging break for the rest of February friends – we are off to Mumbai for our annual vacation home. I don’t need to tell you how excited I am, do I?
There’s so much awaiting me – a wedding, an engagement, a family function, my first visit to my very own home (the first time I’ll be seeing it as a home rather than a construction site!), a visit to B’lore and Pune, lots of shopping, hogging and of course meeting up with friends and family. All in the space of two weeks, can you believe it? I wish I could begin already…!
See you soon friends!
…happens to all of us at times, but a cousin of mine, by an unfortunate coincidence both uncommonly innocent and fearless for her age, suffered especially from the dreadful malady. She’s been known to have asked the most insensitive of questions with the sweetest of smiles and the most angelic expression ever in the good old days of childhood. For her sake (and her husband’s sanity) I hope she’s recovered by now.
Her infamous exploits were many, but this one takes the cake. During a family function at a temple, we cousins spotted an elderly hunchbacked lady doing her ‘pradakshinas’. Now we had never seen a hunchbacked person before and naturally all of us were curious. The question in every mind was the same – how does ajji (grandma/old lady) manage to sleep on her back? Do her legs go up as soon as she lies down?
We were all curious of course, but young as we were, there was this vague suspicion that any questions in that direction might not be taken very kindly. So we kept mum. Except for this cousin, who was fearless, remember? Before anyone could stop her, she went right ahead and popped the question to the lady herself. You can imagine the talking-to we all received later that day!
In my cousin’s defence though, she was just six or seven at that time. I wonder what these folks’ excuse is?
… you’d find a brilliant new post here every other day!
Why, oh why, do all my best and brightest ideas come to me in the shower, or when I’m traveling, cooking, dreaming or doing just about anything that doesn’t involve staring at the laptop screen? I think up entire posts in my head, complete with the wittiest of punchlines and the most profound ideas only to remember nothing when the blank laptop screen confronts me!
So in case you’ve been wondering, now you know why this space doesn’t get updated as frequently as before. Any ideas to beat this brilliant-post-but-only-in-my-head syndrome?
“Congratulations! Your President’s a N…!”
A seemingly drunk man threw this cheery greeting our way as he stumbled past us late on Saturday night. We were about to enter a restaurant and I almost ran to the door in my hurry to get away from him. The husband, walking a few steps behind me, did not catch the words right the first time.
He later told me he heard something like ‘Your President’s a nagger’ and remembered thinking it didn’t make much sense. He could very well imagine the First Lady complaining about it, but how does this guy on the road know so much about Presidential squabbles, he wondered.
So my dear husband proceeded to ask our friend to repeat his words while I almost died of fright and shock! The cheerful proclamation having been repeated in an even louder voice, the husband seemed to finally get it and followed me into the restaurant pronto!
Was our friend on the road bitter about Obama’s ‘historic election’, as the television networks have been reminding us every two minutes for the past six months? Was this his affectionate way of celebrating ‘the first African-American President of the United States’? Or was he just plain drunk?
Whatever the reasons, his words helped put this election into perspective for us. A lot of it may be media sensationalism, but if a random person on the street still addresses his President-elect this way, in jest or otherwise, Obama surely has climbed a very big mountain to get where he is today!
Sometime in January last year, the husband and a friend climbed a nearby mountain range for a day trek. ‘What’s so unusual about that?’, you might ask. We live in upstate New York, that’s why. Average temperatures on a nice sunny January day here are below freezing. To say nothing of the fact that it was snowing the day the foolhardy two set out on their crazy (or so I claimed!) adventure.
‘Do I look like I’m crazy too?’, I smugly asked them when the poor guys invited me along. And ‘I just hope they come back home safe and sound!’, I prayed all day, as I enjoyed some cherished me-time warm and cozy at home.
They came home all right, and brought with them some of the most breathtaking pictures I’ve ever seen! Naturally I was jealous as a cat! I’d mocked them too much to say anything then, but this year when the winter trek was being planned, I quietly slipped in a oh-so-casual ‘Perhaps I’ll come too!’. Hoping it would go unnoticed. Obviously it wasn’t, but what’s a few taunts and jibes when such gorgeous scenery’s awaiting me, right?
So a group of five friends, yours truly included, set out on a trek to the Skytop tower on the Mohonk mountain range early last Sunday. The final ascent to the tower was closed because of icy conditions, so I didn’t get my view after all, but the scenery on the way was worth every bit of the aching limbs that followed.
I leave you with some pictures and a suggestion – if you get a chance to go on a trek in the snow, don’t miss it! Take your precautions, wear lots of layers, put on sensible boots and go for it! Oh, and please don’t tell the husband I said that!
Setting out!
A semi-frozen stream on the way.
Walking on snow is a tough job!
But the view sometimes makes up for it!
Pug marks in the snow – was that a bear? A dog, more likely, but it was exciting to imagine a bear instead!
Lake Mohonk
Sunset at 4 – it’s time to head back now!
A sight for sore eyes (and aching limbs) – isn’t that just gorgeous?
Growing up in a mixed Maharashtrian-Kannadiga household, I experienced two very distinct culinary traditions in my childhood.
Aai mostly cooked Maharashtrian dishes in the traditional Koknastha style – mild stir-fried vegetables or pulses with a hint of jaggery and coconut and a simple tadka or phodni, kakdi or tomato-kandyachi koshimbir and super-soft polis or phulkas. Sabudana thalipeeth was a special treat, as was batatyachi poli, better known as aloo paratha!
There were many other Koknastha dishes that I suspect were either too cumbersome to make or that Aai herself did not particularly enjoy and hence were not frequently prepared at our place. Those, I got to enjoy at Aaji’s – aamti, kothimbirchi vadi, puran poli and the like. Yummy!
Attya’s preparations, on the other hand, were typical of North Karnataka, the region she and my father hail from. Simple but delicious saaru-anna, her comfort food, was the dish I took for granted whenever she cooked for us. Bisi bele huli anna, muddi, kadbu and hittud dosa were eagerly anticipated too.
Pav Bhaji, the quintessential Bombay party dish, was reserved as a treat or for when my nagging got too loud and insistent for Aai to handle. As for pizzas, Punjabi or Indo-Chinese dishes, a younger me would have probably told you they are to be found only in restaurants and that too only on special occasions or something!
Lest somebody think I am complaining about what I ate growing up, let me clarify.
I am not! On the contrary, I think of those times with nostalgia nowadays. For one, the food was handed to me, hot and delicious, literally on a platter! Beats slaving over an exotic dish any day, don’t you think?
But jokes aside, Aai’s and Attya’s recipes are probably hand-me-downs from my grandmothers and their grandmothers, the result of decades of experiments and improvements. The secret of Attya’s cooking, I later realized, was in the masalas, painstakingly prepared at home and taught to her by her aunts and cousins.
So there was a strong sense of identification with the distinct taste of each dish and a peculiar sort of comfort in eating the food that my uncles and grandmoms and great granddads had enjoyed before me.
But alas, I did not learn to cook when I was home!
And as a result, my cooking now is a mismash of bits and pieces I pick up from here and there. A pav bhaji recipe from a cookbook, a poha recipe my mausi wrote down for me once, thalipeeth taught to me by my mother-in-law and a spicy Andhra sambar recipe from a family friend. Attya would be shocked to know my favorite bisi bele rice recipe actually comes from Sanjeev Kapoor’s cookbook! And when all else fails, there are the food blogs, my saviors and best friends in the kitchen.
In the last one month alone, I’ve made pithla-bhakri, masale bhaath, solkadhi, manchurian and fried rice, baingan bhartha, dum aloo, bruschetta and tomato-sev-shak, all from recipes so generously shared by my fellow bloggers. The wonderful part, of course, is that the husband and I are able to cook and enjoy such a wide variety of cuisines from India and elsewhere.
But on the other hand, there’s no pattern to our cooking at all! One never knows what to expect. My pithla may be of Kolhapuri origin and very spicy one day, and of Koknastha style and boringly mild the next. The husband has given up trying to analyze my cooking and asking me to make a particular dish ‘like last time’ by now!
Plus there’s no sense of the familiar in my food at all! I struggle to recreate the taste of Attya’s saaru each time I make some, but in vain. My concoction is delicious too, no doubt, but it’s not the taste I associate with the saaru of my childhood, you see!
A simple solution, a practical person like my father or my husband would say, is to set aside some time and learn to cook my favorite dishes from Aai or Attya one day. But if only it were as simple as that! If I had the patience to sit down and learn to cook, I would have done it a long time back, wouldn’t I?
The fun of cooking is in experimenting with different recipes and ingredients I think. I’m sure I would die of boredom if I had to cook the same sort of food day after day! So I’ll continue to hunt everywhere for recipes and play around with the poor husband’s taste buds instead. Maybe a pattern will emerge over the years.
If not, my kids might feel inspired to write a post on their mother’s wonderfully erratic and vibrant style of cooking someday!
