I thank you and may I please!

It was just another Friday - pick up, drop off from preschool and waiting with excitement to get the day over and start the official celebrations for an uneventful or social-eventful weekend - had it not been for my sudden visit to the Siva Vishnu Temple on the eve of Ramanavami. I carried Aarti on my hip and proceeded to the free-meal section to get some prasadam once the Darshan was done. The lunch was elaborate and colorful. Okra, Dal, Medhu vada, sweet and hot pongal and Pulihora. There were little paper boat-like containers that were provided as substitute for plates. An elder woman was serving the food in the containers and putting them aside on the table. From my previous experience, I mistook the lady for a volunteer serving food and placing them on the table for the convenience of the devotees. The place was quiet deserted except for an older man on the other side of the food buffet. I examined the contents and took one of the pre-served trays containing medhu vada, lifted on the couple vadas and almost placed it to Aarti's mouth for her to eat when a almost angry voice shouted in panic "ours" "ours"
It is then that I realised that the food the lady kept aside was for herself and her people and she is not really a volunteer. I could almost feel the heat in my cheeks and placed back the vada in the container and the container on the table and apologised - obviously embarrassed. The gentleman said it was okay if I'd taken it but the Lady didn't second him. She slowly moved to this part of the table as if to safeguard her loot and almost shielded me from the food. I thought I was imagining it, but she did it. A middle aged woman and a little girl waked out of the adjacent restroom and the three ladies representing three generations collected their numerous plates of food and left to grab a place to sit and savor the grub.
For some reason, my appetite can accelerate and decelerate for no obvious reasons and triggers and right there, my ponder started and I almost forgot how hungry I was. I collected some food which Aarti eventually refused to eat. I polished the boats and placed them in the trash, sub consciously looking at this pious old woman that was rude enough to have stopped me form feeding a little girl food that was served for free. I agree she filled them herself - but hello - what happens if she lets me take one of those thingies?
I don't know what happens but the more I look at the world - the more I notice that there is no time or manners on people's hand. I remembered how I was trying to board onto a flight with two cabin baggages, a diaper bag and a kid on hip and a group of gentlemen passed by me without even caring to hold the door open, let alone offering me a helping hand when all most of them had was a sleek briefcase to carry. I remembered how people getting aboard the public transportation would not allow people to alight first and how people make self samples out of candy and cosmetics by prying open the boxes in Costco warehouse. The chewed gum on a medicine isle in the supermarket, un-flushed toilets, frozen fish fillets left on a box of diapers as a result of a fickle customer's mind and ladies bad mouthing because a five year old jumps line in a public toilet in Great Mall are all indications of how hopelessly busy, selfish and rude we are getting as a species.
The mother figure woman whom I saw in the temple was as motherly as it gets when looks are concerned. She must have travelled a distance to come and offer her prayers on the eve of an auspicious day but she was small enough to have borderline snatched free food form a toddler's mouth. It saddens my heart that this is the kind of world my little girl will one day grow up into. It makes me insecure that she might join the flow and lose the patience of smiling, being courteous or patient in a line to get to the toilet stall or a checkout counter. I fear that it might discourage me to tell her to wait her turn lest she would never get it. At the same time it makes me hopeful to look up to the moms that teach sharing, waiting and smiling, being polite and being thankful to their children.
No matter how much progress we make in science and technology and no matter how many achievements we have under our belt - I think it is of paramount importance to realise that we should have our manners in place. That people would forget what we are and how we are - but they would never forget how we make them feel.
I retire, hoping like a mom that the world has both yin and yang and they balance out.

Trumpet time - On love for cooking.

Fruit Kesari

Sambar

Tomato Chutney

Fried Rice

Eggplant

Plantain with mustard and tamarind

My dad is self employed and slogs till date to pay his bills. My mom is self employed too and slogs to just to do what matters to her - But I, the second among three daughters and a son, along with my other siblings, was brought up like the only child and heir apparent to a vast legacy notwithstanding my parents' working class status. I tell this cause this has relevance to my cooking skills. So till a good decade ago, I did not know much about cooking cause being the Royalty I was, I did not peek into the kitchen when my mom was cooking three meals a day for a brigade that ate like pigs! Not until I was on my own in a foreign country and my innocent husband thought I was as good at cooking as I was at writing baloney in lengthy love letters.

But to his good fortune and my utter surprise, cooking came naturally to me. I realised that I have a culinary intuition and can cook without making an effort to look into a recipe. Thus, I heard my calling - My undiscovered passion which happens to be cooking.

Around this time last year, my long lost and reunited friend Usha visited me and said "you are very lucky because I approve of your cooking." Now we are dealing with a wacko like me, but I being the wacko I was, thought "you are very lucky because you have the fortune of eating what I cook" I am sounding snobbish and full of myself? Aren't I? But I cannot help. I am good at cooking and I know it and am not going to be falsely modest and say I am going to slow-poison you with my preparations. I might have an occasional bad dish to my credit, but I am a lucky cook and 99.9% of the time it clicks.

I also notice that I am not much for simplicity when it comes to cooking. I cannot steam white rice and eat it with curd even if I am dog tired and ready to collapse. I would vote for take out but never compromise for home made maggie noodles or left overs form last weekend. Those left overs become science projects and go into the green waste eventually by the way:-))

So, when I cook it has to be a stuffed paratha, or a pizza made form scratch or a healthy salad doused with processed mustard and vinegar. My sambar should have rightly steamed zucchini and pearl onions and the sambar powder should be a home made one - not the MTR or MDH that is readily available on the grocery isles. My idlis come with two chutneys made of fresh coconut and ginger respectively and piping hot sambar. My stuffed egg plants are all evenly roasted with a homemade stuffing and can be eaten by themselves. My Russian neighbor and best friend Valentina will vouch for this.

Whether it comes to combining cauliflower and okra or making Thai rice just like the take out in Hacienda crossings - I am blessed with the culinary intuition. I take an effort to make them look as good as they taste. I believe that the way veggies are cut effects their taste and cooking is a serious art form - much more complicated and serious than singing, painting or dancing and I love Remy the rat and the whole ratatouille movie since I can so relate with Remy. In fact, I think I am the human version of the rodent.

Ask my friends, my mom in law or just invite yourself over for a meal. I promise, I won't disappoint and you are free to tell me I am lucky since you like my food. I, however, will think you are lucky to have tasted it - but I will not say it aloud. I promise:-))

Picture courtesy - Aarti's mom's Nikon D40x.

Wish list.

A perfect tote, a perfect couple of quotations and a perfect wish.

The bag retails for $14.95 at Barnes and Noble. The best part is that this one is sturdy, roomy to fit my kitchen sink and is made of Canvas. Not the PVC I hate or the Leather I love to death but am on the verge of renouncing as my statement against animal cruelty. Now I have to find a friend that gifts me the bag that I ain't have! LOL.

Or better yet, buy this one at BN before I head to buying food at the grocer tomorrow morning:-))

Pictures.

Do you know how it is?
It's never one size fits all
Or one adage fits most!
He worshipped her
Like she was Isis
Or Amaterasu.
Kissed the earth she walked on -
Placed flowers on her porch
With an anonymous note.
He knew her well enough
And she knew him back
But words were never exchanged
It was just a picture stack.
Once writing down her notes
Once losing to make her win
And once looking away when she looks at him
Only to secretly rejoice the attention he gets from her!
Days passed
The pictures piled.
She waited for him to say something
Confused, anxious.
The something was never uttered
Only a million little things done
A zillion little pictures of love
Of deep devotion
Attraction.
Confusion?
They parted
Never listening to what they felt for one another
Only playing the pictures that depicted their love
And folly.
Do you know how it is?
It is never one size fits all
Or one adage fits most!
Sometimes
A word is worth a thousand pictures!

This Blog needs comments to keep going!

Hazy.

Inspirations -
Like the identical twin boys squealing in the shopping plaza
Dressed alike - emoting alike,
And the piping hot sambar brewing
Absorbing the aroma of a home made ingredient
Or the silky soft pigtails of a little girl
That bounce like springs when she lumbers around -
Come and go
Like uninvited guests.
Uninvited but interesting guests.
Sometimes they stalk me
Slyly escaping when I try to look at their faces
To see who they are.
Inspirations come like cramps
That accompany the female curse.
Like the ring of a telemarketer
When the kid is napping.
They come, pleasant - painful.
with pressure and pleasure.
Stalking me - never leaving me alone.
Inspirations or Imaginations!
I know not what they are.
But they come and go
Taking forms on a virtual screen
Begging to be noticed.

Jai Ho Rahman Ki!

It is pure bliss to have time for oneself. Aarti is at preschool and after contemplating to run to the shopping plaza and doing some window shopping on Spring trends, I decided instead, to listen to Rahman Bhayya's "Satrangi re" from Dil Se. As a lover of fine arts - lyrics allure me as much as the melody does and Satrangi re is the finest of its kind - both in the lyrics and melody dept. Which brings me back to a time when I first heard the sound track of Dil se on our seriously outdated tape recorder a good decade ago. There was a weird sound accompanied by an obvious static - but that didn't in the least deter me from experiencing the spiritual orgasm only a fine piece of music can bring to the bliss-seeking soul. I vividly remember how enchanted I was by the whole sound track. How hopelessly I was in love with Rahman's talent and how sincerely I appreciated the God given craft of Gulazar.
Rahman Bhayya, ever since - provided the background score to my life. I was obsessed with one or the other of his compositions and played them on the day I realised I was in love, on the day of my wedding ,on my car stereo while driving, in my own voice while cooking and putting Aarti to bed and sub-consciously when I grappled to relax, sleep or just to get rid of my boredom. Rahman Bhayya's music works like a anti-depressant. It makes me magically transform into the mood of the melody. It makes me happy, a better person and a lover of finer things in life. It makes me better at expression and articulation. It makes me well armed as a mom to tame down a hyper toddler. Aarti is slowly but surely picking on my love for music and she seems to prefer "Kabhi kabhi Aditi" over any other peppy number I suggest.
Oscar night this year was probably as big to every Indian as it was to Rahman and his family. I watched him deliver his acceptance speech, as proud as a mom who'd see her child achieve something. I think I even felt the ever so slight moisture in my eyes when He remembered his mother and spoke in his mother tongue. He was right there in that moment - grounded, humble and utterly down to earth. He handled his moment of glory with great aplomb -With the ease of a child holding his mom's hand. I think I saw Rahman the person that day and he is as breathtaking as Rahman the talent.
I think I agree with Santu and many more Desis out there who think that Slumdog is not Rahman's finest work. But nevertheless, it is the work that put us on the Oscar map. The work that got him and the whole of India noticed and I like the soundtrack for that particular reason.
My cousin once told me - that he is yet to meet a Rahman composition that he did'nt like. I whole heartedly agree with him. Rahman's music has a way to grow on you. A way to evolve like a child. A way to bloom and show its true colors and magnificence. It is like a slow poison - a sweet one that intoxicates the senses and takes it to a state of Nirvana.

Rahman is the star of Billions of Indians. And my personal Icon and Idol. I noticed that I did not blog and brag after his twin wins. I have a single pet peeve though - I wish I saw Gulzar on the stage along with Rahman for accepting Jai ho's accolade. After all - he made his contribution to the most memorable of Rahman's compositions.

For now - I retire only to blog again and again about my Bhayya Rahman in many more future blogs as long as I am up and blogging.
Jai ho....Rahman Ki!

Epicure - today's word.

- The one that describes me to the dot. Here's the dictionary definition - courtesy Merriam-Webster.


epicure
ep·i·cure
Pronunciation:
\ˈe-pi-ˌkyu̇r\
Function:
noun
Etymology:
Epicurus
Date:
1565
1archaic : one devoted to sensual pleasure : sybarite2: one with sensitive and discriminating tastes especially in food or wine
synonyms epicure , gourmet , gourmand , gastronome mean one who takes pleasure in eating and drinking. epicure implies fastidiousness and voluptuousness of taste. gourmet implies being a connoisseur in food and drink and the discriminating enjoyment of them. gourmand implies a hearty appetite for good food and drink, not without discernment, but with less than a gourmet's. gastronome implies that one has studied extensively the history and rituals of haute cuisine.

Vanity.

I am sure this is a repeat title, but it just has to be:-)
The first thing remarkable I noticed about my appearance or the first thing remarkable about my appearance that got me noticed rather - was my jet black, lush, long hair. I wore my hair in two lengths ever since I grew out of that semi-bald toddler look my mom so fondly remembers - Long and very long. There was an occasional self-style that I treated myself to and chopped inches off of the long mane, not just to look good, but to experience the satisfaction of making a pair of scissors cut through a mass of hair, but other than that, I wore it long. Until recent past nothing has changed much about the hair in question. Of course, it succumbed to the flipping pages of the calendar and reached the medium density level, but the hue remains jet black - naturally occurring jet black that is!
So, in the frenzy of re-inventing myself for my daughter's first b'day and compensating for the unlost post-preg-paunch, I took a drastic step , followed my horribly off fashion intuition and got my hair chemically straightened. Now, did some one say not to improve on things that don't need improvement? I was probably grooving to a Rahman tune with my iPod earphones plugged in and I missed listening to that piece of advice. It was pure bliss, none the less, since there was zero frizzy, zero work for my gently and rarely used hair dryer and it was a lazy lady's answer to the prayer said to banish bad hair days! And then - the real enemy arrives, slowly but surely!
The roots.... Wavy ones. And my hair took no time in transforming from manageable to menace. And, then - then, I had to listen to my kind of in sync fashion intuition and cut my hair short, Not Demi Moore or even Katie Holmes short, but below the shoulder short. The cute young stylist form Juice or B Blunt - I don't remember, convinced me to go shorter, but being the dominant female species I am, said no in a way he could not dare to convince me anymore:-))
Walking out of B Blunt (or Juice - both were so adjacent and my brother actually booked the appt) I felt like a blend of Kareena Kapoor and Preity Zinta and really loved the way my hair shun the split personality with half slick straight and half naturally wavy hip length hair.
I should have left it at that. But no, I didn't! The shoulder length got a little longer and I being the impulsive, adventurous, free spirit I am, ventured into the UN-comfort zone and on a whimsy, cut my hair above shoulder - Just in a justification that I always wanted to wear my hair Demi Moore short ever since my husband's cousin and My cousin's hubby (both different ppl BTW) thought I looked like her ten years and thirty pounds ago!
So, from Hip long to Shoulder short, my journey through the hair style roller coaster offered me all the thrill, apprehension and nervousness expected of a roller coaster ride from a non-thrill seeker like Moi. I think the Kapoors and Zintas are now replaced with the very awkward, "Before" Kajol in KKHH. The plain vanilla hip length braid that swayed like a simple pendulum is now feathery short, tomboyishly dense and slips through the scrunchy that attempts to hold it all together. It rips me off of my identity, my Indianness, my feeling of comfort when I hold the roots of my long braid and coil it into a neat bun at the nape of my neck while vacuuming and doing dishes. The hair is gone, it'll come back soon...but what about my comfort? Well looks like it has to wait too....or may be, I'd lead my life way too much in the comfort zone and a part of me is liking the risk I'd taken. Or may be not!
May be I wont be noticed for my hair any more. Will that make me be noticed for -say - my lack of hair??? No idea. But I really wanted to kick the ass of that know all, self proclaimed professional beautician i ran into that asked me, in her horribly false put on accent, to look at pictures before getting a hair cut the next time around (Like I am moron enough to entrust my hair to a stylist and ask her to have the time of her life chopping it off!). I think that her hair style sucks BTW...and this blog is hereby rated PG 13. Wait, not the whole collection, just this one - and may be a few more!

Time to sleep - and miss the coil of my crowning glory. Ahh....should've used that as the title!
ha ha ha......

The End!

When I was in primary school, I had great regard for our Telugu teacher Mr. Murthy - Mr. Murthy, the funny, intelligent and sensible teacher of all. He always had witty one liners and quirky comeback lines that I use on people till date. I often found myself admiring his insight into life.
One day, he wrote a quote on the black board which read "The end of Education is Character." I was in sixth grade and the word character didn't mean anything profound to me. One day I watched a tear jerker Telugu movie aired on Doordarshan and wondered why the leading lady would not accept the silent-admirer colleague who comes to her rescue when her abusive husband and her lover who promises her to bail her out of the situation ditch her. I asked my mom "Why doesn't she accept his love and live happily ever after?" My mom replied in the voice of a true, blue blooded Indian woman that the integrity of the Heroine's character loses its charm if she accepts and goes away with anyone that crosses her way! Of course, at eleven, it didn't make any sense to me as to why the story should end on a sad note when this lady finally finds a man that loves her for who she is. But the word 'character' loomed loud and big in my head.
So - is character suffering when you can be happy? Is character about making the right choices, saying the right words and doing the right things to make yourself and the people around you happy? Why did the know all Mr. Murthy say that the end of Education is Character? These were a few questions that crossed my ever inquisitive pre-teen mind.
So, back to education, whose end I am about to discuss with my august company - the world wide web. I had a conversation with someone this afternoon and we discussed a problem another person we both know is having bringing up her kid who is being spoilt rotten by her hubby. The hubby - the sweetest, most sensible guy you'd ever meet does all the right things for his family and does too much of what he perceives as right things for his daughter - by giving in to her every request, demand and order. It seems he even teaches her the right stuff - takes interest in her academics and inculcates in her a reading habit probably to help her find her way to an Ivy league school in future. From how grave the child's behavioural problem appears, I told my friend I was speaking to that no matter where the child goes to study and no matter what degree she brings home - if her perspective is not in check, she'll be miserable the way she is being brought up.
I have seem smarty pants who are quiet immature in day to day situations and high school drop outs who sound more mature and learned than your average Phd professor. So, what is education all about and how are educated lot going to fare better than their uneducated brothers and sisters? Will attending a prestigious school change the way you think? Will it put your perspective in place, will it make you more sensible, more sensitive? I Believe not!
Education does not end where 4.0 GPAs begin. It does not end when Certificates of Merits are awarded in fancy graduation ceremonies. It certainly doesn't with a big fat paycheck. In fact, it only begins there. True education should offer us lessons about perspective, about arranging our priorities, about perception of right from wrong. True education should teach us how to carry ourselves, how to say the right words, how to treat people below us, how to stand firm and tall in the face of hindrances, how to respect others for what and who they are and how to live our lives in a way that positively impacts us and the people around us. All that perhaps sum up into the single word Mr. Murthy used a couple of decades ago. A word that concludes education. A word spelled "Character"

Confusion.

The arcade
Looks like an open circuit
Form the front window of my car.
Like monochromatic, illuminated Lego blocks
Arranged with mathematical precision.
The parked cars look like they might overflow
Onto the busy streets.
People don't really make an appearance there.
They are there, but they are not conspicuous.
People - young parents, older couples,
High school kids and Security personnel
Armed with the clink of coins
Disguised as neatly folded dollar bills
And tiny slick credit cards -
Loiter around - peeping through the enticing window displays
That beckon to them
Promising happiness in the form of
A brand new dress, Kitchen Gadget, Curio trinket
Or updated makeup.
The clink of coins bounce back and forth
Through numerous hands and cash counters.
The inconspicuous people,
The innocent, inconspicuous people,
Rush there, armed with what they perceive as the paved way to happiness,
Peace of mind, satisfaction, gratification
Exchange coins
In a desperation, passion, obsession
To find
One thing, perhaps more than one thing!
The only thing my peepers see
Through the freshly washed front window of my car is
A crystal clear, conspicuous, careless
Confusion.

Okay, this should have been prose! LOL.