Memorial Day Weekend

Since we could not afford a trip that involves long drive, we decided to stay put at home. This is the first long weekend that did not see us going out of the town. The Roommate is tiffed, but his hands are tied, and he cannot actually complain. For some time we planned for going out on the beach (cancelled since the sun was not bright enough until mid-day), movie night-and-day (did not get time to go to library to get videos), shopping (the only thing done, but got tired too easily). Luckily, Ray and Radha invited us for lunch at their home, and one afternoon was worth spent with their seven month old boy, Kesav, who was a handful. Kesav could not stand and ignored Srikant for the first few hours, and stuck to me, for which I am ever grateful to him. He is such a cheeky boy.

Apart from that Memorial Day afternoon, we were left with the challenge to be at home together without killing each other. I immediately knew, to stay strong at such adverse situations and overcome such challenge, I needed big distractions, a bigger challenge. So while the roommate took refuge behind the Mac, I hid myself in the kitchen.

Now, people who know me already know the kitchen is not my favorite place at home. That I had the guts to publish a post on cooking is surely going to raise some eyebrows with lots of friends who are otherwise culinary experts. However, this was not going to dampen my spirit. I was only reacting to the high level of hCG in my blood (you must already know of the other side-effects, if you have been privy to my other blog).

So, a-la-Julia & Julliette, I started Project One Item A Day.

29th May, Saturday: Fired Rice and Chilly Chicken

I decided on a Chinese theme for the first day. I knew this will impress The Soulmate as he is a Chinese cuisine fan, but I also ran the risk of having "Chinky" as my permanent nickname. Still, this was the easiest, as I already made it (yes, you read it right) a few times at home. Most of the ingredients were there at home, but realised we did not have the vinegar. The Soulmate ran downstairs without complain. Thanks God for the onsite grocery store at our apartment, which is unimaginable at this part of Downtown LA.

For obvious reasons, I would not go into the recipe and all, since that was not the goal of this post, and will directly post the photos.

The Soulmate made use of the leftover chicken bones and the vegetables in the freezer and made awesome chicken soup. But, I am not going to talk about it here, neither I am going to post any photos of chicken soups. This is my blog, and I decide what

will go in here. If you want to post photos of your cooking skills, you are welcome to have your own blog. Period!

30th May, Sunday: Dosa with Coconut Chutney

Woke up very late, and went out for lunch and shopping and came back tired. I still had the energy to go to kitchen, dish out some snacks. Dosa was on the menu. Now, I really know how to make batter; I made some in the past. But, as you obviously understood, it was such a hectic weekend, I settled with store bought Dosa batter. No complications with a guarantee that the Dosas will come out crisp and tasty. I, however, made the coconut chutney myself. Hmmph! No Sambar, since we both don't like it with Dosa (it masks the flavour), and there was no sambar powder at home. The Chutney Pudi was made by Viji, and I get a regular supply of those.

This is the first time I made Dosa without any supervision from Ma, Viji or Venkat. However, the task was made 100 times more difficult by the Soulmate who continuously poked his nose, and offered unwanted suggestions, and were very generous with unwelcome criticism. I am immensely proud that I rose above such petty criminal activity, maintained my dignity and delivered quality.

31st May, Monday: Gajar Halwa

Even though we came exhausted from Ray-Radha-Kesav's home, I felt the carrot's that were shredded the previous night should not go waste, and instead of ducking under the sheets, cooked this dessert.

All in all, it was a very productive weekend. I would not still dare to ask any of you to come and taste my cooking (The Soulmate has earned himself that punishment), but I wish to carry on some more of this if I have the time and the penchant for it, and, more importantly, if the enthusiasm persists.

Quarter Life Crisis III

Dear readers, if you have got bored at this moment, please jump the next three paragraphs. I cannot help but give some details of few of my other experiences with would-be grooms.

The next one was a guy who was studying in USA. His mother was in-charge of setting his alliances and was acting on his behalf. She called me several times during my work hours. Her demands were unique. I should promise her that I will clear my GRE, get an acceptance in the same University where her son was studying, and take an admission there before she solemnise the wedding. This time it was my mom’s turn to get shocked, and she intervened and put a stop (more appropriately a comma) to it.

The oasis in the desert was a guy from Canada, who wrote very nice emails. He genuinely or pretended to take interest in my likings and hobbies. But all his emails had a funny subject “Raj from Canada”. Probably he thought that the email would get lost if the return address was not written. Or probably he thought I will confuse him with the Raj from UK of DDLJ fame.

My harassment did not end at the hands of suitors only. Crisis crept to my personal life, which included home. My mom’s reactions started with simple distress - “All your friends are getting married”, to whimpering “I feel ashamed to go and attend wedding ceremonies now-a-days, everybody asks when is yours” to howling “Do you want us to live in this society?”

My crisis reached its peak when I got a job offer from USA and I started with my H1B. Then, the guys in India would not take me as I was leaving, and the guys in USA would delay the alliance process saying “age ashte dao” (let her come first). They could not believe that anybody can get a job in USA without a software professional degree.

At that point even I had a thought that probably I am going to die an old maid. I consulted my friends who were going through similar fate. And they had weirder stories to tell. One girl who was looking for alliances through the matrimony sites was asked to email two copies of her birth certificate, two copies of her janam kundali (astro profile), the latest degree certificate, with three recent photographs (close-up, sitting and standing). She replied back that she was looking for an alliance, and not a PA job.

My cousin sister working in ICICI made a standard for refusing guys. Whoever will ask her for taking home loans will be rejected. She is still rejecting.

Another close friend who was doing her MPhil told an amusing tale. She had to go through the process of patri dekha (guy’s family coming to see the girl). She was politely asked by the guy’s father to sign her name in a white paper (an old tradition to see that the girl is literate).

Seasons changed, and fate brought me to UK. That same year in Christmas, I happened to bump into the guy whom I knew for nine years whose previous advances for a date were refused blatantly. Well, fate had taken its own turn, and it was my turn to get bowled. Cupid’s arrow did not miss this time, and we got married this April putting and end to my parent’s mid-life crisis and my own quarter life crisis. I am enjoying wedded bliss for the time being till I am hit with some new crisis.

Quarter Life Crisis II

Life at Mysore was blissful again with no potential suitors and no parental pressure for wedding. Two years passed like a flick and I again found myself suffering from single-woman syndrome. Two weeks into my first job and my mom’s excellent network service had made a potential suitor call me at Mangalore. I was informed of the call beforehand, and was ready for a friendly chat. But I had no idea that it was going to be a marriage interview. (Well, I did not have an idea that such things exist).

Important excerpts from the interview.
- When did you pass your Masters?
- Which University?
- When did you pass your Bachelors?
- Which University?

At that point I thought of producing my degree certificates, but had to restrain as it was a telephonic interview. I was waiting when he will ask what I do for a living (a job as a lecturer which I was too proud of and too eager to boast), but he never asked. The interview continued…

PG- How many boyfriends did you have?
Me- Some crushes, no serious ones.
PG- Ok, do not try to lie to me. I know many people from your school, and can get the truth out in two days.
Me- (Shocked… gasped for breath, and them mumbled) Yes, whatever. (And under breath- I can produce references/clean conduct certificate, if you wish).
PG- How much importance do you give to money?

By that time I lost all interest in him and specially no interest in his money, and so mumbled something in reply. He concluded the interview stating that I was successful at that instance and was suitable for the position of a housewife. He forgot to ask if I was interested to take that position. He described in no uncertain terms his intentions of getting a decent wife with a professional qualification, and she should stay at home to look after the house. In short, he needed an educated kaamwali.

To be continued...

Quarter Life Crisis I

This post is applicable only if being on the fair (?) side of the age of thirty can be considered as the first quarter of my life.

I took a looong hiatus from blogging (and everything else). And (hopefully) for the right reasons. On April 17th, I tied the knot with my friend, Srikanta. No…no...this is not the crisis. But this was the end of the beginning of a long crisis.

It started in the summer of 2001. I came home to enjoy a 10 day’s vacation from college. My last UG exam was over and I was officially a graduate. Pursuing the idyllic life of an internee was heavenly which also meant having more money in pocket than I had ever seen together. But most importantly I just hit the hazardous age of 22. Any girl of 22 or who have already passed that age would understand the hazards related with that age.

The female relatives of the family became extremely uncomfortable (i.e. concerned with my age). So one afternoon my mom along with my aunts paid their (loyal) visit to the family astrologer who gave the verdict that the daughter of the house should get married before she is 23. And since that day, my life changed forever.

My mom’s network (family and friends and their family and their friends) wasted no time in hunting down potential grooms for me. And, I, the hapless victim remained a mute spectator of the mayhem (and could only pray for some miracle to happen). No miracle happened. When the first suitor arrived, I fled. I was traced down to my Aunt’s (pishi) kitchen savouring ilish maach bhaja. My poor pishi had no idea what was going on and believed that I had come to stay for the day (with my parent’s consent).

I was mercilessly dragged, pulled and shoved to home. And my mother asked me the age-old question every mother asks their daughter in such situation.
“Are you…..”

No… wait…stop guessing… because I know what you are thinking.

When I was telling the same story to my Estonian friend, she stopped me here, and told, “Well, when I broke up with my boyfriend, my mom asked me the same question- Are you a lesbian?”

No… my friends, my Mom did not ask me that question. I guess she did not have such creative ideas. She also did not bother to ask “Do yo have a boyfriend”. She was too confident in her understanding that I stand no chance with guys and could not have had one. She rather asked, “Do you want to get married at all?” Simple question… eh? But my simpler answer, “Yes…but not now” could not pacify her disappointment.

My friends who know me for the last decade already know how I escaped my mom’s marriage trap when my father intervened. My persuasion with him led to a negotiation. He came out with the simplest solution. If I continued with my studies, marriage would be postponed.

I do not want to elaborate here and bore my readers with details about how a non-academician like me had to do the donkey-work with books and journals for the next one month to clear the entrance exam for the Master’s course. Miracles do happen, and it did happen this time. That August Mysore saw me starting my Master’s course.

To be continued.....