Ipsita Banerjee's Blog, page 18
March 31, 2015
'A' for Asparagus, Avocado and Arugula. A to Z Challenge Day 1.
Asparagus, Avocado and Arugula..... Some my favourites foods start with A. None of them are available in Calcutta except in winter and only in very elusive shops in New Market. In fact, once in Bangalore I saw asparagus in summer and I was so excited, my friend actually bought me some! So the other day, while it was still winter here (now a distant memory) I made that trip to New Market, which is not new at all, and found all the ingredients were available. Now that's a rarity so it set me wondering if there was something that could be cooked up featuring all three of my favourite greens!So I checked online and found a lovely recipe for Triple A (asparagus, apple and avocado) salad. The recipe is at this link: http://www.joyofkosher.com/recipes/tr..., do have a look at it.
And, if you are feeling adventurous, do try out my version!
AAA Salad
Ingredients:1/3 cup honeyjuice of two lemons, about 1/4 cup1 pod of garlic, minced fine but not ground to a paste.1/2 tsp dry mustard powder1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper1/2 tsp salt1/2 cup olive oil (I use extra virgin for salads) 2 to 3 cups Arugula leaves, washed, torn into bite sized pieces.1 cup Asparagus, cut into 1 inch slices1 or 2 Avocado pears peeled and sliced (about a cup)1/2 cup strawberries, hulled and chopped into biggish pieces1/2 cup feta cheese1/2 cup bacon grilled crisp and chopped/crumbled.
Directions: Combine the honey, lemon juice, garlic, pepper, salt and oil in a glass bowl. Blend with a hand blender or in a food processor for about 2 minutes until well combined. You can use a salad dressing mixer too, if you want. Check seasoning and sweetness. You may prefer to add a little honey or lemon. Place the cut asparagus in a separate bowl and cover with boiling water. Count to ten and then discard the boiling water and immediately fill the bowl with ice-cold water. Wait ten seconds and discard that too. Place the Arugula leaves in a salad bowl followed by a layer of asparagus, chopped strawberry, avocado and bacon. Add the dressing and toss. Crumble feta cheese over the salad and serve immediately. ENJOY!
DISCLAIMER/NOTE: Why the bacon? Because I love it and believe that it adds flavour to anything from mushroom soup to liver pate, omit it if you want. Or replace it with roasted chopped walnuts! All my ingredient measures are approximate. I am sorry but I never seem to have proper measures for anything I cook. A lot of it is by eye, if you know what I mean.... I hope the measures I have given will do the trick!
And, if you are feeling adventurous, do try out my version!
AAA Salad
Ingredients:1/3 cup honeyjuice of two lemons, about 1/4 cup1 pod of garlic, minced fine but not ground to a paste.1/2 tsp dry mustard powder1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper1/2 tsp salt1/2 cup olive oil (I use extra virgin for salads) 2 to 3 cups Arugula leaves, washed, torn into bite sized pieces.1 cup Asparagus, cut into 1 inch slices1 or 2 Avocado pears peeled and sliced (about a cup)1/2 cup strawberries, hulled and chopped into biggish pieces1/2 cup feta cheese1/2 cup bacon grilled crisp and chopped/crumbled.
Directions: Combine the honey, lemon juice, garlic, pepper, salt and oil in a glass bowl. Blend with a hand blender or in a food processor for about 2 minutes until well combined. You can use a salad dressing mixer too, if you want. Check seasoning and sweetness. You may prefer to add a little honey or lemon. Place the cut asparagus in a separate bowl and cover with boiling water. Count to ten and then discard the boiling water and immediately fill the bowl with ice-cold water. Wait ten seconds and discard that too. Place the Arugula leaves in a salad bowl followed by a layer of asparagus, chopped strawberry, avocado and bacon. Add the dressing and toss. Crumble feta cheese over the salad and serve immediately. ENJOY!
DISCLAIMER/NOTE: Why the bacon? Because I love it and believe that it adds flavour to anything from mushroom soup to liver pate, omit it if you want. Or replace it with roasted chopped walnuts! All my ingredient measures are approximate. I am sorry but I never seem to have proper measures for anything I cook. A lot of it is by eye, if you know what I mean.... I hope the measures I have given will do the trick!
'A' for Asparagus, Avocado and Arugula
Asparagus, Avocado and Arugula..... Some my favourites foods start with A. None of them are available in Calcutta except in winter and only in very elusive shops in New Market. In fact, once in Bangalore I saw asparagus in summer and I was so excited, my friend actually bought me some! So the other day, while it was still winter here (now a distant memory) I made that trip to New Market, which is not new at all, and found all the ingredients were available. Now that's a rarity so it set me wondering if there was something that could be cooked up featuring all three of my favourite greens!So I checked online and found a lovely recipe for Triple A (asparagus, apple and avocado) salad. The recipe is at this link: http://www.joyofkosher.com/recipes/tr..., do have a look at it.
And, if you are feeling adventurous, do try out my version!
AAA Salad
Ingredients:1/3 cup honeyjuice of two lemons, about 1/4 cup1 pod of garlic, minced fine but not ground to a paste.1/2 tsp dry mustard powder1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper1/2 tsp salt1/2 cup olive oil (I use extra virgin for salads) 2 to 3 cups Arugula leaves, washed, torn into bite sized pieces.1 cup Asparagus, cut into 1 inch slices1 or 2 Avocado pears peeled and sliced (about a cup)1/2 cup strawberries, hulled and chopped into biggish pieces1/2 cup feta cheese1/2 cup bacon grilled crisp and chopped/crumbled.
Directions: Combine the honey, lemon juice, garlic, pepper, salt and oil in a glass bowl. Blend with a hand blender or in a food processor for about 2 minutes until well combined. You can use a salad dressing mixer too, if you want. Check seasoning and sweetness. You may prefer to add a little honey or lemon. Place the cut asparagus in a separate bowl and cover with boiling water. Count to ten and then discard the boiling water and immediately fill the bowl with ice-cold water. Wait ten seconds and discard that too. Place the Arugula leaves in a salad bowl followed by a layer of asparagus, chopped strawberry, avocado and bacon. Add the dressing and toss. Crumble feta cheese over the salad and serve immediately. ENJOY!
DISCLAIMER/NOTE: Why the bacon? Because I love it and believe that it adds flavour to anything from mushroom soup to liver pate, omit it if you want. Or replace it with roasted chopped walnuts! All my ingredient measures are approximate. I am sorry but I never seem to have proper measures for anything I cook. A lot of it is by eye, if you know what I mean.... I hope the measures I have given will do the trick!
And, if you are feeling adventurous, do try out my version!
AAA Salad
Ingredients:1/3 cup honeyjuice of two lemons, about 1/4 cup1 pod of garlic, minced fine but not ground to a paste.1/2 tsp dry mustard powder1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper1/2 tsp salt1/2 cup olive oil (I use extra virgin for salads) 2 to 3 cups Arugula leaves, washed, torn into bite sized pieces.1 cup Asparagus, cut into 1 inch slices1 or 2 Avocado pears peeled and sliced (about a cup)1/2 cup strawberries, hulled and chopped into biggish pieces1/2 cup feta cheese1/2 cup bacon grilled crisp and chopped/crumbled.
Directions: Combine the honey, lemon juice, garlic, pepper, salt and oil in a glass bowl. Blend with a hand blender or in a food processor for about 2 minutes until well combined. You can use a salad dressing mixer too, if you want. Check seasoning and sweetness. You may prefer to add a little honey or lemon. Place the cut asparagus in a separate bowl and cover with boiling water. Count to ten and then discard the boiling water and immediately fill the bowl with ice-cold water. Wait ten seconds and discard that too. Place the Arugula leaves in a salad bowl followed by a layer of asparagus, chopped strawberry, avocado and bacon. Add the dressing and toss. Crumble feta cheese over the salad and serve immediately. ENJOY!
DISCLAIMER/NOTE: Why the bacon? Because I love it and believe that it adds flavour to anything from mushroom soup to liver pate, omit it if you want. Or replace it with roasted chopped walnuts! All my ingredient measures are approximate. I am sorry but I never seem to have proper measures for anything I cook. A lot of it is by eye, if you know what I mean.... I hope the measures I have given will do the trick!
March 22, 2015
AprilA2Z Theme Reveal
Ah, here we are... April is round the corner and just like last year, I have signed up for the April A to Z challenge. Only, this year, I have a theme!
And here it is:
"FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD! "
Stop, wait, don't go away just yet, shaking your head thinking "Oh, just another food blog with boring recipes and all.." I am not a foodie and I do not lay claim to any expertise on the topic. Nor am I a food blogger. This theme talks of food, sure, but about my associations with them. That smell of freshly baked bread, that sour taste of tamarind... the diverse tastes and smells we grew up with.
Yes, you may find an occasional recipe too, and if any one wants any, just send a comment and I shall try to oblige, but I repeat this is not a food blog.
This is a celebration. Of food.
Come, will you join me?
March 13, 2015
Tyger tyme
My fascination for the big cat crept upon me very quietly and unexpectedly as I was painting one day. I suddenly found them enchanting ... all that sienna and orange swirling with the stripes.....and I kept my eyes open for pictures I liked so that I could recreate them on canvas.
That said, I had never expected to see a real tiger in the wild.
I had, of course, visited Calcutta zoo as a child and had known that the stinky area was where the tigers were. The section was usually very crowded and I was never too keen on it. I remember seeing an excellent specimen of the animal in Duisburg zoo but that was a very touristy thing to do when you were travelling with kids. Back home in Calcutta, one winter I took the girls to Calcutta zoo. It was crowded. A tiger sat resting with its back to us, the cage was rather small for him. Sadly, maybe it was my imagination, but he looked thin and unhappy and the crowds milling about outside the cage and calling out did not help. I came away sad..and swore never to visit the zoo again.
But nothing prepared me for the sight of a Panthera Tigris in the jungle.
Having visited a good many national parks in India, ranging from Bandhavgarh to Kanha to Kaziranga to Chitwan to the Sunderbans and not having seen much more than a few chitals, monkeys, rhinos and the like, I was quite indifferent to the idea of visiting Tadoba when the spouse suggested it. My cousins were coming down from Scotland and we wanted to go on a holiday together. After much deliberation, everyone agreed on Tadoba.
"When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see
did he who made the Lamb make thee?"
It was dawn. The sun could not be seen behind the trees but morning had stretched a finger into the forest when we saw her: our first sight of a tiger that walked regally ahead of our vehicles. It was a sight to be seen, one that I will never forget: the click click of cameras and fumbling for the zoom...
The lady was unperturbed. And indifferent. She turned as if to survey us and with one haughty shake of her head, strode back into the forest. She owns the forest and she made sure we knew it.
We then found out that this particular tigress, P1, also known as "Chota Tara" as in "Small star", had two cubs. one male and one female. Over our three day visit we would see the male cub and catch a glimpse of the female. We also saw P1 again as in the evening she condescended to make an appearance as we waited, still and quiet in our jeeps. We also saw another tigress (P2 or Maya), a beautiful leopard as it climbed onto a tree, we saw sloth-bears, crocodiles, chital deer, sambar deer, langurs and birds of every imaginable size and colour. But this is not a checklist of the animals and wildlife we saw....or the resort we stayed in or the people we met.
This is about that first sight of a tiger. In the wild. A utterly stunning image that I will cherish forever.
"Tyger, tyger burning bright
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry." (William Blake)
That said, I had never expected to see a real tiger in the wild.
I had, of course, visited Calcutta zoo as a child and had known that the stinky area was where the tigers were. The section was usually very crowded and I was never too keen on it. I remember seeing an excellent specimen of the animal in Duisburg zoo but that was a very touristy thing to do when you were travelling with kids. Back home in Calcutta, one winter I took the girls to Calcutta zoo. It was crowded. A tiger sat resting with its back to us, the cage was rather small for him. Sadly, maybe it was my imagination, but he looked thin and unhappy and the crowds milling about outside the cage and calling out did not help. I came away sad..and swore never to visit the zoo again.
But nothing prepared me for the sight of a Panthera Tigris in the jungle.
Having visited a good many national parks in India, ranging from Bandhavgarh to Kanha to Kaziranga to Chitwan to the Sunderbans and not having seen much more than a few chitals, monkeys, rhinos and the like, I was quite indifferent to the idea of visiting Tadoba when the spouse suggested it. My cousins were coming down from Scotland and we wanted to go on a holiday together. After much deliberation, everyone agreed on Tadoba.
"When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see
did he who made the Lamb make thee?"
It was dawn. The sun could not be seen behind the trees but morning had stretched a finger into the forest when we saw her: our first sight of a tiger that walked regally ahead of our vehicles. It was a sight to be seen, one that I will never forget: the click click of cameras and fumbling for the zoom...
The lady was unperturbed. And indifferent. She turned as if to survey us and with one haughty shake of her head, strode back into the forest. She owns the forest and she made sure we knew it.
We then found out that this particular tigress, P1, also known as "Chota Tara" as in "Small star", had two cubs. one male and one female. Over our three day visit we would see the male cub and catch a glimpse of the female. We also saw P1 again as in the evening she condescended to make an appearance as we waited, still and quiet in our jeeps. We also saw another tigress (P2 or Maya), a beautiful leopard as it climbed onto a tree, we saw sloth-bears, crocodiles, chital deer, sambar deer, langurs and birds of every imaginable size and colour. But this is not a checklist of the animals and wildlife we saw....or the resort we stayed in or the people we met.
This is about that first sight of a tiger. In the wild. A utterly stunning image that I will cherish forever.
"Tyger, tyger burning bright
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry." (William Blake)
February 1, 2015
I do not understand.
The other day at a gathering I heard two mothers discuss their children with much gusto. One was advising the other, "I UNDERSTAND children...my boy used to do just that, but I was firm..."I listened, halfheartedly and wandered off. I have to admit that I do not understand children at all. Yes, I am trying to raise two of them, true. I am also firm.But do I claim to understand them at all? No. Emphatically, I say, NO. Over the years they have remained one of life's greatest mysteries to me.
Let me elucidate:
I will never understand how a child who is supposedly so disciplined and well-behaved that she has been made a Prefect in school can leave the bathroom in such disarray that her father has a fit every morning.
I do not understand how their slippers keep turning up all over the house for me to trip on but cannot be found on their feet or when they have to go downstairs for something.
I do not understand how a child who climbs on top of the jungle gym, balances herself there and almost gives me a heart attack cannot walk to the kitchen without touching the walls with her grubby fingers.
I do not understand how they have perfect hand-eye coordination while playing games but cannot control the hand-eye coordination it takes to ensure that they only pour enough shampoo for their hair and not for the entire family along with the neighbours and the dog we do not have.
I do not understand how a child will share any food with her friends, eat it with their filthy hands and one shared fork and then will scream and not want to eat her meal just because her sibling touched it!
I do not understand how they cannot find the Math book that is under their noses but has a special radar that tells them each time I need some quiet because I MUST get something done. Yes, that's when most emergencies happen!
I do not understand how the child I have been ranting at to "get out there and study, your exams begin in less than a week," can suddenly sneak up behind me, give me a hug and say "Can I watch TV for just half-an-hour?"!
I especially do not understand how the child who cannot find my spectacles which are sitting in plain sight on my bedside table will be able to spot that left-over cake that has been hidden in an opaque box three rows behind in the fridge for her sister.
I do not understand how they are immaculately turned out and prettily dressed when going out but always look like something the cat dragged in when my friends come to visit.
I do not understand how that child who falls asleep at her desk by 8 pm when she has to study stays awake all night when her friends or cousins sleep over.
I certainly do not understand that the better dressed they are is always directly proportional to the mess that has been left in the bathroom, on the bed and the dressing table.
Most of all I will never be able to understand why, after a long long day when I have been my crabbiest best and have run after them the whole day to study, clean up, tidy the desk, fill the water, lay the table, do the dishes, go study some more, they call out to me from the darkness of their bedrooms and reach out and hug me and say, "I love you, Ma."
Let me elucidate:
I will never understand how a child who is supposedly so disciplined and well-behaved that she has been made a Prefect in school can leave the bathroom in such disarray that her father has a fit every morning.
I do not understand how their slippers keep turning up all over the house for me to trip on but cannot be found on their feet or when they have to go downstairs for something.
I do not understand how a child who climbs on top of the jungle gym, balances herself there and almost gives me a heart attack cannot walk to the kitchen without touching the walls with her grubby fingers.
I do not understand how they have perfect hand-eye coordination while playing games but cannot control the hand-eye coordination it takes to ensure that they only pour enough shampoo for their hair and not for the entire family along with the neighbours and the dog we do not have.
I do not understand how a child will share any food with her friends, eat it with their filthy hands and one shared fork and then will scream and not want to eat her meal just because her sibling touched it!
I do not understand how they cannot find the Math book that is under their noses but has a special radar that tells them each time I need some quiet because I MUST get something done. Yes, that's when most emergencies happen!
I do not understand how the child I have been ranting at to "get out there and study, your exams begin in less than a week," can suddenly sneak up behind me, give me a hug and say "Can I watch TV for just half-an-hour?"!
I especially do not understand how the child who cannot find my spectacles which are sitting in plain sight on my bedside table will be able to spot that left-over cake that has been hidden in an opaque box three rows behind in the fridge for her sister.
I do not understand how they are immaculately turned out and prettily dressed when going out but always look like something the cat dragged in when my friends come to visit.
I do not understand how that child who falls asleep at her desk by 8 pm when she has to study stays awake all night when her friends or cousins sleep over.
I certainly do not understand that the better dressed they are is always directly proportional to the mess that has been left in the bathroom, on the bed and the dressing table.
Most of all I will never be able to understand why, after a long long day when I have been my crabbiest best and have run after them the whole day to study, clean up, tidy the desk, fill the water, lay the table, do the dishes, go study some more, they call out to me from the darkness of their bedrooms and reach out and hug me and say, "I love you, Ma."
January 5, 2015
2014. In quiet retrospect.
2014 started off quietly enough, deep in a quiet bungalow in rural Bengal. I thought or rather hoped that the year too would pass in the same vein.
Peacefully.
But with two teenage girls in the house, that's a tall order.
You know, early on in my marriage, I had taken a decision that my family would always come before my career. I kept going to Court well into the seventh month of my first pregnancy. But then came a day when it got too much and I had to stop. Isha and Amisha, as you know, are barely 13 months apart. So for almost a continuous stretch of almost two and half years, I was either pregnant or lactating! In fact when Amisha was barely 4 months old I decided I had had enough and went back to work. It's a good thing we are self-employed. Any other employer would have kicked me out long ago!
For, for the next ten plus years, the demands were endless. It started with smiles that tugged at your heart...the maid that refused to show up...the fall that broke a lip,... the fever that refused to subside.... the heart-rending wails of a child in colic pain....the first few weeks of playschool... the baby birthday parties where no one knew no one but everyone sat and pretended to blend in .... the tiny fingers that singed on a hot iron...the driver who went on leave...the odd school timings.....the baby meals .... those tears that soundlessly fell when I got ready to go out... those big eyes that followed my every move....believed my every word...
Unsurprisingly, work took a back seat and yes, I missed that big red bus with the flashing neon lights. I often wondered why I ever bothered to go to work at all. My Mom-in-law pushed me always, whenever I contemplated quitting, she insisted I 'hang on'. And hang on, I did.
Last year I realised why.
I have no grubby hands held out to me waiting to be washed. No one picks up some toy from the floor and tries to feed me with it. No one wakes me in the middle of the night to ask for permission to go to the loo. No one looks out of the Montessori window just to make sure I am waiting there. No one wants me to help with the Math because two plus ten sometimes makes twenty. No one waits for me to tie their hair in cute ponytails and then bobs their heads when it's done. No one climbs on top of me, pulls open my eyelid and asks "are you awake now?" No one hugs my foot and drags herself along to the door when I am trying to go out. No one waits till I'm in the loo and then starts to cry. No one calls to ask if she will wear the blue shorts or the yellow one.
My girls, as I said, are now teen-agers. I can come and go as peacefully as I please, in fact the girls are happiest when their father and I are out. The girls have their own little worlds: they are busy with their debating club, TV shows, choir practice, dramas, school activities, studies, friends, sibling rivalry, arguing about which clothes to wear, shoes....the list goes on and on. I have all the time in the world to do whatever I want.... So, once I am done with my professional work, to keep me out of trouble, here's where you'll find me, more often than not: writing, painting, catching up on my reading, or just engrossed in another absurd level of CandyCrush!
Getting back to 2014, the best thing this year (I think for once all of us will agree), was our summer holiday to the US. It was hectic but it was beautiful and all of us just cast aside all our worries and relaxed. Another fine holiday was to the tea gardens in Eastern Assam, Tinsukia and Dibrugarh.
And, yes, there was my school 25th reunion. I was hesitant at first, but once there I realised that those childhood friendships were the simplest..and the easiest to slip back into.
Oh we had our fair share of illnesses and difficulties, duties and responsibilities, disappointments and discouragements but in the end all that remains in my mind when I think of the years past are the quiet joys. The joy that is found in the simple laughter of Amitesh and the girls as they chatter away on a Saturday night thinking I am fast asleep in the next room. The joy of meeting old friends and not having to say much to be heard, the joy of sharing a little bit of our lives and getting enriched with a bit of theirs. The joy of watching a blood-red moon setting against a blue gold curtain of night as it rises on a new day......
In 2015, that's the kind of joy I wish you all. Have a good one.
Peacefully.
But with two teenage girls in the house, that's a tall order.
You know, early on in my marriage, I had taken a decision that my family would always come before my career. I kept going to Court well into the seventh month of my first pregnancy. But then came a day when it got too much and I had to stop. Isha and Amisha, as you know, are barely 13 months apart. So for almost a continuous stretch of almost two and half years, I was either pregnant or lactating! In fact when Amisha was barely 4 months old I decided I had had enough and went back to work. It's a good thing we are self-employed. Any other employer would have kicked me out long ago!For, for the next ten plus years, the demands were endless. It started with smiles that tugged at your heart...the maid that refused to show up...the fall that broke a lip,... the fever that refused to subside.... the heart-rending wails of a child in colic pain....the first few weeks of playschool... the baby birthday parties where no one knew no one but everyone sat and pretended to blend in .... the tiny fingers that singed on a hot iron...the driver who went on leave...the odd school timings.....the baby meals .... those tears that soundlessly fell when I got ready to go out... those big eyes that followed my every move....believed my every word...
Unsurprisingly, work took a back seat and yes, I missed that big red bus with the flashing neon lights. I often wondered why I ever bothered to go to work at all. My Mom-in-law pushed me always, whenever I contemplated quitting, she insisted I 'hang on'. And hang on, I did.
Last year I realised why.
I have no grubby hands held out to me waiting to be washed. No one picks up some toy from the floor and tries to feed me with it. No one wakes me in the middle of the night to ask for permission to go to the loo. No one looks out of the Montessori window just to make sure I am waiting there. No one wants me to help with the Math because two plus ten sometimes makes twenty. No one waits for me to tie their hair in cute ponytails and then bobs their heads when it's done. No one climbs on top of me, pulls open my eyelid and asks "are you awake now?" No one hugs my foot and drags herself along to the door when I am trying to go out. No one waits till I'm in the loo and then starts to cry. No one calls to ask if she will wear the blue shorts or the yellow one.
My girls, as I said, are now teen-agers. I can come and go as peacefully as I please, in fact the girls are happiest when their father and I are out. The girls have their own little worlds: they are busy with their debating club, TV shows, choir practice, dramas, school activities, studies, friends, sibling rivalry, arguing about which clothes to wear, shoes....the list goes on and on. I have all the time in the world to do whatever I want.... So, once I am done with my professional work, to keep me out of trouble, here's where you'll find me, more often than not: writing, painting, catching up on my reading, or just engrossed in another absurd level of CandyCrush!
Getting back to 2014, the best thing this year (I think for once all of us will agree), was our summer holiday to the US. It was hectic but it was beautiful and all of us just cast aside all our worries and relaxed. Another fine holiday was to the tea gardens in Eastern Assam, Tinsukia and Dibrugarh.
And, yes, there was my school 25th reunion. I was hesitant at first, but once there I realised that those childhood friendships were the simplest..and the easiest to slip back into.
Oh we had our fair share of illnesses and difficulties, duties and responsibilities, disappointments and discouragements but in the end all that remains in my mind when I think of the years past are the quiet joys. The joy that is found in the simple laughter of Amitesh and the girls as they chatter away on a Saturday night thinking I am fast asleep in the next room. The joy of meeting old friends and not having to say much to be heard, the joy of sharing a little bit of our lives and getting enriched with a bit of theirs. The joy of watching a blood-red moon setting against a blue gold curtain of night as it rises on a new day......
In 2015, that's the kind of joy I wish you all. Have a good one.
December 22, 2014
The Class of '89 is back!
"We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploringshall be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."(T.S. Eliot)
Those words rang through my mind again and again on Saturday afternoon as we sat in the much changed shed in an all too familiar school. The excitement was palpable, adrenalin ran high. All those evenings of practice, all the meticulous planning and frantic activity were finally coming to fruition.
I must admit that I was a late entrant. Actual planning, meeting the teachers for permission to hold an event in school...all this began way back in December last year. I was, I must admit, aloof, preferring to be a quiet spectator. Until sometime in July/August this year Archana asked me to attend one of the meetings as she was busy. That's when it all began for me and I was dragged into the proceedings, a sham organiser! Oh the girls had carefully planned everything down to the smallest details. Right from the invitation card to the gifts for the teachers to the design of the logo to the nitty-gritties of each meal that was served to us, there was a compact and dedicated group who had been handling everything. I just barged in and bossed around. As usual.
Finally the week-end arrived. And brought with it hordes of friends and well-wishers and teachers who still remembered us. Friends who came from near and far. Friends we have not seen in 25 years. Friends we took for granted. Friends who had slipped into the recesses of our minds. Friends whose faces were familiar but the name evaded us!!!!! It was one happy kaleidoscope of fond memories and reliving the olden days!
The weekend passed by in a flash. Our FB timelines and WhatsApp inboxes are now over-flowing with pictures. And the official photographs haven't been handed in yet! We are all eagerly waiting for the footage of our show at school and the photographs taken at Conclave and at the Picnic....
Yes, the big 25th reunion is over. The Class of '89 that emerged with a thunderous roar has gone back into their various camouflages...
All of a sudden, this morning, I felt job-less. There were no frantic calls to make, no last minute instructions...nothing. Only a bunch of girls posting photos everywhere.
It's kinda lonely like this.
So I just wanted to say that that day, in school, standing at the mike, I looked around me and was overwhelmed by the sight. Our teachers, our batch-mates...it made me realise how fortunate we all are and have been to have had this experience. And even our friends who could not make it for the occasion.. were there too, crowding my mind, my thoughts. It was like being in a time capsule; the shed of today changed into the old shed of our youth: teeming with the hot-lunch girls.... some of us trying to get a throw-ball game going ...some of us just stopping by, chewing on those stick-jaws or chilly chips!
Yes, it was like knowing the place for the first time. And no matter where our travels take us, we are indeed fortunate if we can return to school again and again at will and be with our friends again.... even if it's only in our minds.
Take a bow, ladies, you're beautiful!
November 24, 2014
"I said it first."
As a mother of two teenage girls, just over a year apart, sibling rivalry is nothing new in our house-hold. In fact I live with the constant steady hum of 'shut-ups' and 'I will tell' which I have trained myself to turn a deaf ear to.
When they were small, if one climbed onto my lap, the other one would want space too. It was kinda cute. They slept under the crook of each arm and there I would be lying flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep, feeling like a beached whale and thank my stars that I did not have another baby! As they grew their interests widened. They wanted the exact same thing their sister was having, forcibly extracted from the mouth if need be. Yes, it was still kinda cute, I'd dress them similarly, buy them the same stuff in different colours and feel blessed.
They were cuddly and cute and loved each other to bits. Or so I thought.
Till Amisha, the younger one, discovered the photo albums. One day I returned home to find this particular child sitting among all the photo albums which she had dragged down from the shelves crying profusely. Big sobs threatened to burst the dam of quivering lips while her sister sat and giggled evilly.
"Isha didi has picture albums without me but all my albums have Isha didi in it!" was the complaint.
I burst out laughing....what else could I do?
That was the beginning of the end. Since then, not a moment goes by when either will pass up a chance to take a dig at the other. If either is within arms length or kicking distance, something is bound to get pulled or pinched or worse. The verbal diatribe is incessant.
Of course they are friends too. They whisper together and make plans to "get mother's goat" and cover for each other when they are on the phone or not studying when they are supposed to. I cannot imagine which is worse: their friendship or their rivalry.....
Now during one of these periods of love and sisterhood, they have devised a rule. Anyone who says "I said it first" ( it has to be spoken or hissed very quickly, like it's one word) gets whatever it is they both want. So here you are sitting down for dinner and I ask one child to pass the salt. She does but her mouth says " I am having the leg piece, I-said-it-first!" And its not relevant to the situation . You could be having dinner and one would hiss "I get the big pillow tonight. I-said-it-first!" or "I sit in the front seat, I-said-it-first!" or even, "I get the remote, I-said-it-first!"
Ouch.
It's endless, its intolerable, I feel like my whole life is going down-hill in a chorus of "I said it first!" they argue about everything: shoes, clothes, chocolates, boys, music, TV shows, tests, school friends, shampoo, the list is endless. No, nothing can escape the thunderclap and rumble of their arguments.
So every now and then when I have had enough of hunkering down in my room pretending not to hear them, I want to scream:
"Can we have some peace and quiet now? I said it first!"
When they were small, if one climbed onto my lap, the other one would want space too. It was kinda cute. They slept under the crook of each arm and there I would be lying flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep, feeling like a beached whale and thank my stars that I did not have another baby! As they grew their interests widened. They wanted the exact same thing their sister was having, forcibly extracted from the mouth if need be. Yes, it was still kinda cute, I'd dress them similarly, buy them the same stuff in different colours and feel blessed.
They were cuddly and cute and loved each other to bits. Or so I thought.
Till Amisha, the younger one, discovered the photo albums. One day I returned home to find this particular child sitting among all the photo albums which she had dragged down from the shelves crying profusely. Big sobs threatened to burst the dam of quivering lips while her sister sat and giggled evilly.
"Isha didi has picture albums without me but all my albums have Isha didi in it!" was the complaint.
I burst out laughing....what else could I do?
That was the beginning of the end. Since then, not a moment goes by when either will pass up a chance to take a dig at the other. If either is within arms length or kicking distance, something is bound to get pulled or pinched or worse. The verbal diatribe is incessant.
Of course they are friends too. They whisper together and make plans to "get mother's goat" and cover for each other when they are on the phone or not studying when they are supposed to. I cannot imagine which is worse: their friendship or their rivalry.....
Now during one of these periods of love and sisterhood, they have devised a rule. Anyone who says "I said it first" ( it has to be spoken or hissed very quickly, like it's one word) gets whatever it is they both want. So here you are sitting down for dinner and I ask one child to pass the salt. She does but her mouth says " I am having the leg piece, I-said-it-first!" And its not relevant to the situation . You could be having dinner and one would hiss "I get the big pillow tonight. I-said-it-first!" or "I sit in the front seat, I-said-it-first!" or even, "I get the remote, I-said-it-first!"
Ouch.
It's endless, its intolerable, I feel like my whole life is going down-hill in a chorus of "I said it first!" they argue about everything: shoes, clothes, chocolates, boys, music, TV shows, tests, school friends, shampoo, the list is endless. No, nothing can escape the thunderclap and rumble of their arguments.
So every now and then when I have had enough of hunkering down in my room pretending not to hear them, I want to scream:
"Can we have some peace and quiet now? I said it first!"
November 18, 2014
Parenting skills (I lack)
My father was a simple man. He believed that if you knew cycling, swimming and could do Maths, you would survive life with nary a hitch. Strangely enough I took to all three. Cycling, of course led to bikes and later to cars and I am happy to say I do not have to depend on the driver or the spouse if I have to go anywhere which has led to a lot of peace in my marital life. So I learnt independence. Swimming is fun, one of those things I enjoy doing particularly when I just want to shut the world out and retreat into my "happy space". I learnt to keep myself occupied. And Math. Well. lets just say I did well enough in Math when I had to. And I was able to impart some of that knowledge to my kids. I hope. And to be frank, every now and then I like working out algebraic simplifications...it helps me think clearly (yes, even my daughters think I am strange!) So I learnt...logic? I'm not sure what I learnt here, but yes, I can do the Math.Now my father had a fourth testament that I have not mentioned. It was "putting things back in their proper places". For the sake of brevity I will call it PTB. This was something, to say the least. I was constantly berated, bullied and taught. For the life of me I could not remember to PTB, or so I thought.My father was obviously master at this for, miraculously, now I find that is one skill I am quite adept at. Here I am in some shop looking for a credit card which I am certain is inside one of the multiple flaps of my XL handbag. I churn through it all, half the contents of my bag are out on the counter and I am certain I have lost the card. The shopkeeper looks at me haplessly, more than a little bit disgruntled. As a last resort I look in my purse. There sits the card. At its place carefully perched in it's slot. I am surprised.Or take this. I am home, it is 11 pm. the elder daughter has misplaced a button of her shirt and MUST have it tomorrow at school. (Of course you can only remember these things at bed time!) I rant. I check all the drawers: there are no buttons anywhere. I knew I had some, in a packet, all kinds of buttons and the like. Despondently, I pick up the needle box. There it is, the packet of buttons, exactly where it should be. It fascinates me!Now my father was a much better parent that I ever will be. Or aspire to be.For my girls can swim but cannot cycle to save their lives and Maths is something smelly that should NEVER be touched!And as for PTB, why, they have no clue. I never know where my things will turn up, funnily, neither do they. As the result, the scissors, the cello-tape, the glue-stick are never where they are supposed to be. Their shoes are everywhere except on their feet or in the shoe closet and I am eternally tripping over them. And I am convinced the objects in my house have a mind of their own. You tell one daughter to "put the book back on the shelf." She picks it up apparently to do the needful. Now that book will turn up in odd places for the next few days, until, with a grunt of exasperation I will pick it up and return it to it's proper place. And this hold true of most things in the house. I am constantly yelling at them to put things back after they've used them, but I may as well be talking to a wall. Or two, if you like.It gets my goat.Like, today: the girls are away at school. I have oiled my hair, a shampoo is in order. I am in the shower when I realise there is no shampoo in the loo. There are only six conditioners and two old empty shampoo bottles which of course no one else will ever throw because it is my sole and bounden duty to do it. I work it out. Obviously. The shampoo is in the other loo. Why? Because one of my darling daughters have taken it there and has not bothered to put it back. That's why!So there I am. I get out of the shower, dripping water all over the place, pull on my night shirt and pad down the living room through the guest room to retrieve a shampoo that should not be there in the first place. And it's cold.Boy, am I mad!Now it's time for the 'little darlings' to come home. I am waiting for them.Boy, will they get it!
August 4, 2014
A monsoon wedding.
Today the rain falls in perfect symmetry, an artist's delight. It's one of those wind blown rainy days splashed by intermittent sunlight that makes me wish I had a bike again and I could ride into the fields where the green earth merges with the dark grey of the skies. Yes, that. It makes me wish I was young again, lying in the tall grass, catching the raindrops in my mouth. It's the perfect weather for nostalgia and nature and maybe a monsoon wedding.
I like to imagine a wedding held 49 years ago. Where a young groom, my father-in-law, waited to bring home his beautiful bride. It must have been a solemn affair. (Bengalis take their weddings very seriously, it is not a time for singing and dancing.) There are prayers to be said, blessings to be obtained from the elders and ancestors and it is serious business. Oh, there is joy. There is excitement and there is laughter. But there is also a sense of responsibility and duty, you know what I mean?
I wonder if they were nervous. Or were they so much in love that nothing else mattered? Did they take the wedding vows seriously, (does anyone?) or did they just know in their hearts that their commitment to each other was stronger than any prayer?
For the 44 years they were together on this earth, my father-in-law was devoted to his wife and vice versa. Oh, there were disagreements and arguments, deliberate silences and hurt egos but no more than in any other happy marriage. My mother-in-law taught me not only how to survive in this XXL family but also to be happy, to accept people for what they are and maintain harmony at home. She, herself, despite being a lawyer, was never allowed to work. Instead of wallowing in self-pity or being bitter about it, she is the one who always encouraged me to work. She also taught me how important it is to let go. Her life revolved round her only son. She found it in her heart to send him to boarding school just so he got the all round education she wished him. And when we got married, she let go of her son again. To make a new home, a new life with me. I had once asked her why we didn't just live with them. She explained to me that I needed my space, I had to be able to create my own home with my own dreams and hopes which may not be similar to hers. "You will always be welcome here, this is also your home," she used to say, "but THAT is your own sansaar, which you will decorate your way as only you know how." It's only later, much later, that I appreciated her wisdom.
Our lives reverberated with her laughter and kindness until one day in September 2009 she quietly slipped away from us. Our lives changed but Baba was there to pull us through it all. He spoke of Ma with love, sharing stories of their friendship and later, courtship in a world where it was not the norm to "fall in love." Through his stories I rediscovered Ma as a shy young girl who waited till Baba finished his education in the UK and then married her.
Baba couldn't wait. Three years seemed to be all he could take and he too left us on a dismal morning in November 2012. He had suffered a stroke and was in coma.... from September. All the pain he had suffered left his face. By the time we brought him home from the hospital, his face was shining and handsome again. He had found peace. I guess too, he had found his love waiting patiently on the other side.
So as I write this today I miss them, I miss them both. But I also know that they are somewhere. Together. Always.
Happy anniversary, Ma and Baba.
I like to imagine a wedding held 49 years ago. Where a young groom, my father-in-law, waited to bring home his beautiful bride. It must have been a solemn affair. (Bengalis take their weddings very seriously, it is not a time for singing and dancing.) There are prayers to be said, blessings to be obtained from the elders and ancestors and it is serious business. Oh, there is joy. There is excitement and there is laughter. But there is also a sense of responsibility and duty, you know what I mean?
I wonder if they were nervous. Or were they so much in love that nothing else mattered? Did they take the wedding vows seriously, (does anyone?) or did they just know in their hearts that their commitment to each other was stronger than any prayer?
For the 44 years they were together on this earth, my father-in-law was devoted to his wife and vice versa. Oh, there were disagreements and arguments, deliberate silences and hurt egos but no more than in any other happy marriage. My mother-in-law taught me not only how to survive in this XXL family but also to be happy, to accept people for what they are and maintain harmony at home. She, herself, despite being a lawyer, was never allowed to work. Instead of wallowing in self-pity or being bitter about it, she is the one who always encouraged me to work. She also taught me how important it is to let go. Her life revolved round her only son. She found it in her heart to send him to boarding school just so he got the all round education she wished him. And when we got married, she let go of her son again. To make a new home, a new life with me. I had once asked her why we didn't just live with them. She explained to me that I needed my space, I had to be able to create my own home with my own dreams and hopes which may not be similar to hers. "You will always be welcome here, this is also your home," she used to say, "but THAT is your own sansaar, which you will decorate your way as only you know how." It's only later, much later, that I appreciated her wisdom.
Our lives reverberated with her laughter and kindness until one day in September 2009 she quietly slipped away from us. Our lives changed but Baba was there to pull us through it all. He spoke of Ma with love, sharing stories of their friendship and later, courtship in a world where it was not the norm to "fall in love." Through his stories I rediscovered Ma as a shy young girl who waited till Baba finished his education in the UK and then married her.
Baba couldn't wait. Three years seemed to be all he could take and he too left us on a dismal morning in November 2012. He had suffered a stroke and was in coma.... from September. All the pain he had suffered left his face. By the time we brought him home from the hospital, his face was shining and handsome again. He had found peace. I guess too, he had found his love waiting patiently on the other side.
So as I write this today I miss them, I miss them both. But I also know that they are somewhere. Together. Always.
Happy anniversary, Ma and Baba.
