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.

The Story of My Heart

Image Source: amazon.com

“I have a story going in my head which I think will make a nice book.” I threw the remark casually over the breakfast table this morning. The soulmate looked up from behind the newspaper, his eyes screwed with confusion. I knew he was weighing what his next line of action should be. Which, for that instance, were:

1. Give me a green signal to carry on, which will be followed by a half an hour of lecture on my part with animated descriptions of characters and events, with occasional demands of suitable and encouraging comments from him, in the absence of which, he will be found guilty and convicted of the crime of being an “insensitive husband”.

OR

2. Ignore me which will result into a big fight and he will be found guilty and convicted of the crime of being an “insensitive husband”.

Proving again that I was smart in my decision, for I chose him as my life partner, he opted for the former.

I took the thread and happily carried on. The next few minutes went something like this:

Me: “There were these two sisters… no... cousins.”
SM: “You and Tia?”
Me: “Aah! No... not us. Ok...ummm... so one of them were very pretty.”
SM: “Tia?”
I gave him an indignant look, and continued, “The other cousin was average looking, just a Plain Jane.”
SM: “That’s you?”
I was visibly irritated at that point, and definitely did not enjoy the frequent interjections. Unflustered, I concentrated on my story again. “So the cousins have an aunt, umm… a spinster, preferably a widow, who lives with them in the same house.”
The soulmate adjusted his seat, and asked innocently, “And who is this Aunt, your pishi or jethima? ”
I retorted, uncertainly, “None of them. The cousins live in a big and old mansion in a posh corner of a small city.”
He scrutinized my face for a moment, and quizzed, “What was the last book you read again?” and seeing my stony face he gladly retrieves back to the world of current affairs.

That was where the conversation ended.

I keep telling myself that how am I ever going to write a book if everything that I ever thought, dreamt, or wanted to do had already been written by an author before me? So, as he guessed rightly, this time, I was thinking of “Sisters of my Heart” by Chitra Bannerjee Divakaruni and developed a similar plot line for my story.

This book had been lying on my bookshelf for quite a time, after I picked it up in Bangalore airport on a journey home. I let it gather dust cause I knew it in my mind that this one story has already stolen my idea of what would have been my first book, the story of two sisters, until I could not resist any longer.

But glad I am that I read it at last. It sent me into a roller coaster of emotions, for all good and not so good reasons. This is a story of two cousins born on the same day into an upper caste all-female Bengali household in Kolkata. The story tells about their love for each other and the bond threatened by family secrecies and jealousy, their lives as they grow together… and apart… and only to be brought together again by destiny.

The story is told from each sister’s perspective, and each chapter moves back and forth between the two protagonists. Coming from a similar background (as u might have already guessed, since I was ready to write another book on the same), I could identify myself with both the protagonist, Anju and Sudha. (Yes, Anju is me, Sudha is Tia, hahha). This is my first CBD book, and I immediately fell in love with her writing. Her writing is like flowing poetry, and the language is very artistic. I wonder if any non-Bengali reader thought that the young girls, Anju and Sudha, speaks in a flowery way, cause that’s how Bengali girls spoke in late 80’s and early 90’s, until commercialism changed the attitude of young Bengali girl’s in modern India.

The characters are very real. The way Aunt Nalini wails at every small lapse and declares how it would not have been accepted in her own father’s well-maintained household wonders me. Did CBD ever meet my she-who-should-not be named- here aunt (wink! wink!) or how else did she draw her character so vividly?

I was less happy with Anju and Sudha, though. Anju being the more ambitious among two, never ventures into anything other than reading literature, and the vivacious one that she is, never fights enough when her college education is stopped. Sudha, should have been allowed to have little more vanity just for the reason that she is so pretty (aren’t all pretty girls snooty?) and not so mimic and docile. Or was it that the burdens of secret made her forget about her own prettiness? But at the end, it made a beautiful story of sisterly bond. The complexities of the characters, their intertwined past, the drama and secrecies kept me glued to the book, till the end of the book.

I am happy that I read this book. It saved me a lot of hard work to try to write a second (or third) class cheap quality book on sibling relationships. I was little furious though as the author left it to me to extrapolate how it would go at the end. But just saw that those two characters are reunited in Divakaruni’s another novel "The Vine of Desire". So, I will have to grab that book soon.

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Now that I realized that writing book on sibling relationship is not such a novel idea, I kept stumbling on more books on similar plotlines. The current one I am reading is Brick Lane, by Monica Ali which though tells the story of an uneducated woman who relocates to London after marriage, but it also has an important supporting character in the role of a sister (who happens to be very beautiful. again), whom we never see in the story, but get to know her through her poorly written letters. Since Brick Lane does not only tell about two sisters but also deals with Immigrant’s issues, religious and political, racial and women's issues, and also I have not finished the book yet, I will talk about it later.

The Smiling Sky

If I have not discussed enough about British weather in my blogs, I have been given a chance today. Have a look at the picture below.

                                                                         Image source: www.metro.co.uk
No, I have not turned the photo upside down.

This is another example of just how freaky English weather can be. This inverted rainbow was seen in Cambridge yesterday. Apparently, the sunrays played some tricks and turned the rainbow upside down. Scientists call it circumzenithal arc. It looks like for a change British sky has replaced its sad face with a happy smiley icon. Or the weather is again making fun of us?

For more news, click here.

Desi Party @ Lake District

The Desis in the United Kingdom have been quite active recently. Desis mean us Indians who are scattered at different parts of the UK. There are many official and unofficial Indian communities here. Ours is a comparatively smaller one, but the group is increasing
exponentially. Our Desi community members are a mixture of students and professionals who mostly belong to the same profession- Audiology and have at one point or other time studied at the AIISH, Mysore. But we have been highly accommodative of other professions as well in the past.

Our Desi meetings started a few years back even before I joined the group. It started with the sole aim of having a common point of meeting for friends and enjoy Desi food and chatamchati. Group members have since successfully organized meetings at Edinburgh, Southampton, London, Swansea, Leicester, etc. So, all the Christmas, New Year, Easter and summer vacations in UK for the last two years were spent in true Desi style. We teasingly started to call those meetings as Desi Party. And the name stuck oddly.

Getting a membership in the group is easy as long as you abide by the most important rule- Not a single story of Desi Parties go out of the group. So photos are censored and videos never reach youtube. Those memorable times become fossils in our memories and are retained strictly for the entertainment of the Desi group members only. Other than these many implicit rules exist which I cannot disclose. I hope I am not breaching confidentiality by publishing this post here.

The last Desi party was arranged at the Lake District keeping Independence Day in mind. Not to forget that weekend Master Chundu was scoring the first quarter century of his life on Earth. Such achievement itself calls for a celebration. Group members agreed for a 3 days long weekend out of boredom at Lake District, North-East of England. All planning were made under three weeks time. Getting a holiday home for nine people at LD at 3 weeks notice is unimaginable, if not impossible. Efficient and one among the first few members of this group, Vinay and Srikanta made the impossible possible. Consequently, on the eve of Indepenence Day, desi group members congregated at Kendal.

Source: www.leaney.org

Next day morning we celebrated Independence Day in the backyard of the house. The tricolour (brought by Vinay) was hoisted duly followed by the National Anthem which was followed by having food sitting on the grass. Evening was spent in Windermere, where we took a trip on the cruise and wandered around the Lake. Next day morning the few energetic ones took a walk around the village while sluggish ones remained at the comfort of their room and took pleasure in more card games, DVDs, food and drinks.

Attempts for a berbeque in the evening was murdered by the famous English weather. All of Sriram's hard work went down the drain. Viji and Pratiksha had to swallow half cooked veg food, while the non-veg people recooked their meat in the oven. We hit the local pub late at night to celebrate Chundu’s birthday and more dancing and singing continued till early in the morning. The villagers in the pub could not resist joining in our celebration.

Next day morning we left Kendal and headed to our own directions. Parting is always difficult, but it always comes with the assurance for another party.

Many things change over the years. Venues for meetings change each time, members come and go, the house turns from impeccably clean to a messy shit. But the valedictory speech by Vinay at the end of the party never changes. It has been the same since the first "No more Desi Party". And we ignore as he will be the first one to propose the next.

Some acknowledgements are due:

Vinay and Chundu for coming up with the excellent idea for this party.
Vinay and Srikanta for doing the inhumane job and getting the house booked.
Vinay again for making the numerous numbers of trips transporting us and driving patiently while dodging all navigation suggestions by nosy passengers.
Venkat for his awesome Dosa and Chutney.
Sriram for being so funny.
Manas for his secret revelations.
Viji for being so sporty.
Pratiksha for adding that extra glitz in our otherwise customary Desi Party.

Thanks Buddies.

Serial Blasts in India

Diwali came early this year in India. But it did not bring any happiness. There were no celebrations. Because this Diwali was not for the masses, but only celebrated by few people who masterminded it. And they celebrated it not with fire crackers, but with bombs.

This July 25^th Bengaluru saw seven serial bomb blasts killing three people and injuring several others.Next day Ahmedabad was traumatized with 16 serial blasts again injuring and killing several common people. The serial bomb blasts started early in May this year when people in Jaipur were shaken with fear when five bombs blasted serially in different parts of the city.

Since then news of bomb blasts is pouring in from different corners of the countries, fortunately not in such large scales as in Jaipur, Ahmendabad or Bengaluru. Eight lives were lost in Assam following a bomb blasting in a small village market. On August 9^th, three children were injured in New Jalpaiguri when they tried to open a bottle. Police found three more bottle-bombs lying around at that place.

These scattered news make us common people little uncomfortable when we read it in the newspaper or see it in TV. When the news reached me, I too was uncomfortable. I made some hurried phone calls to friends and family in India, and once I was assured they were safe, I totally forgot the incident.

Probably this is our most common reactions to terrorism. We turn to the next page of the newspaper, or switch the TV channel to the next reality TV show. Terrorism matters to us only when one of our own people gets victimised. Till then we suffer nothing. Nothing can take us out of our false feeling of security. But how long can we ignore?

I can only half start to feel the pain of my friend Indrani and the anguish she and her family were going through. She lost her uncle in a similar accident in Kolkata. The sufferings of the family can be found here.

It is unfortunate enough and I sympathise with the families who lost their loved ones in such mindless killings and look forward to the day when these terrorisms come to an end. Till then we can only hope and pray to God to keep our loved ones safe.