Crème Brûlée Symphonie

Well, I made another of my experiments. I made my own variety of pudding, and I have decided to call it “Crème Brûlée Symphonie”. But this time, I actually remember the recipe! So here goes…

 

Crème Brûlée Symphonie: the Recipe

 

Okay, first, even before you get anything started, you will need to identify the utensils you are going to use in cooking this. You will need one utensil (and I am going with a bowl here, because puddings are really bowl things!) in which you will cook the pudding (the cooking bowl), and another bigger bowl, in which you are going to place the cooking bowl while cooking. Both the bowls have to be oven AND flame proof, so I used steel bowls. You will also need three other suitably sized mixing bowls, ideally of 500ml capacity each, to give you plenty of room to whisk.

 

Ingredients:

1. Eggs (whole) – 3
2. Fresh cream – 500ml
3. Plain granulated white sugar – 6 tsp (I don’t like my pudding intensely or overwhelmingly sweet – but if you like your desserts to be really sweet, you should increase this to 8 tsp)
4. Vanilla essence – few drops
5. Instant coffee powder – 2 to 3 tsp, as per desired strength of flavor

 

Method:

1. Break the eggs into the first mixing bowl. Add the sugar and whisk well for 3 minutes. Set aside.
2. Pour half (250ml) of the fresh cream in the second mixing bowl. Add the instant coffee powder and whisk well until the coffee dissolves in the cream.
3. Pour the other half of the cream in the third mixing bowl. Add the vanilla essence and whisk.
4. At this stage, it would be good to start pre-heating the oven to 200C. It would also be good to pour about 2 inches of water in the bigger steel bowl and put it on the gas to boil.
5. Give the egg and sugar mixture a quick whisk, and pour half of it into the coffee cream mixture. Whisk well until incorporated.
6. Pour the other half of the egg and sugar mixture into the vanilla cream mixture, and whisk well until incorporated.
7. Pour the vanilla cream mixture into the cooking bowl. Then, pour the coffee cream mixture on top of it in zigzag, circular or uneven motions, and make sure to not whisk or mix the two at all. This will create a pattern resembling a marble cake.
8. Take the bowl with the boiling water off the gas, and put the cooking bowl in the hot water. Take care to ensure that none of the hot water gets into the cooking bowl. If need be, you can throw out some of the water.
9. Place the entire thing in the preheated oven, and bake for 45 minutes, or for as long as the pudding needs to set. If the top seems to be getting burned or too browned but the pudding is not set yet, you can use the classic technique of covering the cooking bowl with a foil tent to prevent burning.
10. Take the pudding out of the oven, pour the water out and allow the pudding to cool to room temperature. Then, pop it into the refrigerator for an hour or so.

 

Voila! Your Crème Brûlée Symphonie is ready… I did not feel the need for a caramel topping, but if you want, you can add that too on top! Bon appétit!

Chicken Rashness - A Chicken Recipe with a Rashness!

Have you ever had one of those moments, when a most rashly invented, on-the-spur recipe actually turns out great, and then you don’t remember the recipe? Well, I had one of those just now. So why am I writing about it? Well, I had this great idea (born under the influence of half a bottle of wine, no doubt!) that if I try to write it out, I might actually recall the recipe. I don’t know the scientific basis for such an assumption, but what the heck… it’s my blog – I can write what I want, even though it is utter rubbish!

 

So here goes… the dish I hereby name Chicken Rashness is prepared thus (should serve two, but I was quite hungry!):

 

Ingredients:

1. Two cloves of Garlic, finely chopped.
2. One large leek, finely sliced.
3. One medium sized tomato, roughly chopped.
4. Salt, Pepper, whatever herbs you can lay your hands on – I used thyme, sage & rosemary – to taste.
5. Half a can of baked beans (200g approx.).
6. Anchovy paste – 1 tsp.
7. Oil / Butter – 1 or 2 tsps, depending on how healthy you like to eat. By the way, I used anchovy fillets preserved in sunflower oil for the paste, and used the preservation oil for cooking – gave it extra flavor, I’d like to believe!
8. About 100ml Water (you can use broth, if you are fancy!)
9. One boneless chicken breast, cut in half if you want – I did.
10. Mustard Sauce – 1tbsp.
11. Honey – 1 tsp.

 

Preparation:

1. In a saucepan, pour the oil / butter. When it heats up, add the garlic. Cook for a few seconds.
2. Add the sliced leeks. Cook for a while, till slightly softened, then add the tomatoes.
3. Add the salt, pepper and herbs at this stage – it releases the juices of the vegetables better. Cook for 2-3 minutes.
4. Add the anchovy paste, baked beans and water. Bring to boil.
5. As it starts boiling, put the chicken in. As the water / broth reduces, the chicken will cook. It hardly took me 5 minutes – but then again, I did not really check the watch, so if you are indeed attempting this recipe, do check for doneness! If needed, I guess you can add more water / broth, but not so much that it becomes runny or your chicken gets overcooked…
6. When the chicken is nearly done, add the honey and mustard sauce, and keep stirring and cooking till the chicken is done and the gravy has become thick.
7. Remove from heat and serve with a side of bread, polenta, rice or Yorkshire Pudding, for all I care!

 

There. I believe my idea actually worked! I think I remembered the recipe in full – or did I?! Eh well… If any of you adventurous folks do try this recipe out, do let me know if you were as enthralled by the outcome as I was. If not, I’ll know I’ve missed something… or the wine had mellowed my taste buds. Either way, we’ll know!

My First Off-Beat Vacation!

So, I totally had to write about this one. I mean, it would’ve been a crime not to. So enthusiastic I was, that here I am, sitting in the sit out area of The Misty Mountains Retreat, and writing about the retreat itself, the journey, the experience and the people I met here!

It all started when I found I had ten days off work, and absolutely nobody to accompany me anywhere. Added to my phobia of spending Pujas in Kolkata, I started searching for some holiday spot, resolved to go it alone – and I typed “offbeat holiday destinations” in Google. After hours of searching, I found that most of the “offbeat” destinations were not so offbeat after all – as evidenced by the fact that they unabashedly offered wi-fi connectivity and multi cuisine restaurants. I was nearly resigned to fall back on my all time favourite spot – Pelling, Sikkim – when I chanced upon this place. The Misty Mountains Retreat. Approximately an hour of researching on the spot, the resort and the location later, my mind was made up – this is where I wanted to be!

So, quickly getting the Logistics over with – the nearest railway station is Kathgodam, the nearest Airport is New Delhi. You can connect as per your location and convenience. I flew in to Delhi, and then took a train from Anand Vihar Railway Station to Kathgodam. From Kathgodam / New Delhi, you can drive / hire a car to reach this place. Yes. That is the only way. From Delhi, it takes about 14 hours, and 7 hours from Kathgodam, to get to this place. One goes through Bhimtal, Almora, Raiagar to get here. After Raiagar, if you think the driver has led you astray with malicious intentions, you are probably wrong. Yes, I said “probably”. There is always a chance that you may get robbed and stabbed to death – after all you are only mortal and probably immensely rich! Therefore, it might be best if you ask Madhur, the owner of the Retreat, to arrange for the cab. Even after that, if you think that the driver is duping you after Raiagar, rest assured, he is not. For The Misty Mountains Retreat is, really, in the middle of a virgin forest (read, in the middle of nowhere). After Raiagar, for about an hour, you will be driving through a road that is not even a road – more, a trail. A map of the route is given below for convenience.

Now, may be you are wondering if this place is worth all that trouble. So, let’s get one thing clear right at the beginning. If you are looking for a holiday destination where you have 3G and wi-fi coverage, ATMs, places to buy medicines and batteries for your camera if you run out, temples to go to pray for your kid’s grades, clothes boutiques and fancy curio shoppes, this place is not for you. (Madhur will never forgive me if I am responsible for sending another buffoon who asks for an ATM in the Retreat!) But if you want to witness Mother Nature in all her glory, or speak to birds that could teach Camlin a thing or two about colour palettes, or have an adventurous urge to challenge the Himalayas, or marvel at the number of stars that the sky can hold, or just simply want to reinvent yourself, look no further. This is the place you want to be in.

Then there is the Retreat itself. The décor of the rooms, the layout of the resort, the cute little sit-out areas where you can enjoy a cozy chat or simply look at the beauty of the Himalayas and the cool hammocks hanging around the place, all make the Retreat beautiful. The rooms are clean, the beds are soft and the blankets are comfortable – you even get an electric blanket if it’s too cold!

 

 

But the real beauty of this place lies in its being in the middle of nowhere! The Retreat is spread over almost 5 acres of land amidst the forest. The flowers around the place are not managed by any gardener – they grow on their own, with little or no help from Ambika (Madhur’s wife and co-owner of the Retreat, fondly known to most as Kuna). The three pet cats of Kuna, Brownie, Musasa and Ai-Ai, are as much a part of the Retreat as are the trees and flowers. And the food, though cooked as simply as at home, will definitely make you over-eat and gain as many kilos as you lose trekking!

 

The Retreat, within itself, offers several things to do during your stay – I won’t reiterate the ones that Madhur has already listed on his website, but I will tell you this: if you are a nature enthusiast, and especially like bird watching, then you would probably find yourself being taken trekking around the place by Madhur and Kuna themselves! And I tell you, it would be worth the experience, for these two know the place like the back of their hands, are charming hosts and have a gift of endearing themselves to you without really trying!

I am now back. To my drab existence in Kolkata! And it is here that I am finishing this post. I was at the Retreat for almost seven days, and there was never a dull moment - and the farthest that I went from the Retreat was to Lamkeshwar! You might be thinking, “what will I do there for seven days?!” For that, you need to visit the website. But even apart from that, I assure you, I witnessed the regrets of the visitors who were there for only two or three days. Well, to be honest, I regretted leaving too, even after seven days, but that was because I never like my vacations to end!

If I had it my way, I would have stayed on forever! That was not to be, though... But if you do decide to visit The Misty Mountains Retreat, and you don’t have a month to spend there, definitely spare a week. Otherwise, you will not do the place justice. You will not do yourself justice. And you will definitely come back unsatisfied!

 

If you'd like to see my memories of the Retreat, you might want to click this link: Holiday at The Misty Mountains Retreat. For pictures of the Retreat itself, well, Madhur has a website: The Misty Mountains Retreat.

Cracks in the Dam

I stare at the blank pages. There is so much on my mind, yet it is so difficult to put them in black and white. My heart trapped inside my feelings… my head, rationalizing, in a vain effort to drive those bitter, scary thoughts away… conflicted, confused and yet, with all outward appearances of sanity and cheer… as if life has dealt me nothing but the best hand!

My pining increases exponentially for the things I most certainly will never be able to have… a family, someone to call my own, unconditional love and acceptance. And yet, I push away every opportunity of getting something even close to that. I am jealous of even the most unfortunate of people around me… because they have something that I can never, ever have. I realize that some people care for me and want to fill the void, but I am scared to let them. Sooner or later, I tell myself, they will drift away, and the void will rush forth to consume me once again… isn’t it better to just get used to it and mourn, than to forget it for a while and then remember it all over again?

I remind myself of a dam sometimes… when the rains are bountiful, they open the gates. Or else, the force of the walled up water will cause cracks in the walls, and soon the entire dam will come crashing down in a flood. I feel my defenses around my dammed emotions starting to crack. But I am afraid of opening the gates… will I ever be able to dam up again?

Appearances have to be maintained. The show must go on. And so I tell myself, emotions and feelings have no place here… Dam them up, and keep up the show. But then I hear whispers. Whispers that I have the best of everything. Whispers that nothing could beat owning a million. Whispers that it makes no difference that I have none to share it with. How I long to tell them that just doubles the pain. How I long to tell them that I would give all of my millions to just have someone to call my own, someone to come home to every day…

But what’s the point. Who will understand my pain anyway? Empty words, and heartfelt pity – that’s all that I will get… not enough, not nearly enough to cure my writhing heart. And so, I write. I don’t know why. Perhaps in the vain hope that someone, someday, will understand the pain hidden beneath these words… or maybe, just to open the gates and let the tears flow.

Writing About My Writer's Block

All right. I have officially developed “writer’s block”…

I have been working on this “come back” piece for ages now… thank god for e-age, or else several trees would have found themselves axed, martyred to the cause of completion of this epic piece!

Well, I have nothing to write about. No genius plots come to my mind these days, and rhyme and/or reason seem lost. I have even run out of steam with my ramblings! And yet, tonight I am determined – I will churn out something!

So here I am, writing about not being able to write any more… eggs and brickbats notwithstanding.

They say, (and I am not very sure who “they” are) pain is a writer’s elixir. Creativity is born out of pain. Of that, I have had a considerable amount in the last few months. I expected my pen to start over flowing, but nothing happened. I found myself even more clammed up than usual. A shrink would have a million explanations for that, I guess. I don’t want to face reality. I don’t want to acknowledge my losses. I am scared of the intensity of my emotions. Maybe. I really do not know whether any of that is correct. Or incorrect, for that matter. These days, I am not certain of anything.

Many well wishers have been advising me to get married. I am scared. And if they had been in my shoes, they would be scared too. If you cut your finger on a broken mirror once, you tend to handle all mirrors with more caution than usual, because you don’t want to cut yourself again. The same goes for your heart, doesn’t it? Nothing in my life works out the way I want it to. Who’s to say marriage will?

Of late, I am aware of a growing affection towards a person. And I am afraid of it. I do not know whether he feels the same way. I do not even know whether I want him to feel the same way. Neither do I know whether I want it to stop or go away. I am scared and confused. Not to mention emotionally drained and battered.

So much uncertainty and pain. In my life, my mind, my thoughts… the pain has reached an extent where it is now an integral part of me. A way of existence. I do not feel anything separately. In a way, I am numb. Perhaps that is why I cannot write. For creativity to be born out of your pain, you need to feel the pain. But I don’t. I can’t, anymore. I am numb.

There… now you know the reason for my writer’s block!

So now, maybe, we should concentrate on how to get over it. And here comes the funniest part. Pretty much wasted and jobless, I was typing out random senseless queries in the Google search engine, and “how to get over writer’s block” threw up “about 8,880,000 results” in only “0.17 seconds”! Wow!!! And I thought, well, I have the writer’s block, and if so many people around the world have written about writer’s block, why not add my name to the list?! So, what follows below are some of the funniest things I read among the 8 million results thrown up by Google… of course, I did not go through the 8 million results – more like 80, but there were more than enough funny ones among them to get me through this article!

Funniest, perhaps, is the fact that there exists a website that “unconditionally guarantees” to break your writer’s block forever, if you buy the package offered on the site! One afternoon of your life is all that the owner asks for, in addition to a considerable sum of money, to give you some extremely well-guarded secrets that will ensure that you “never fall victim” to writer’s block again in your life! Wow! What confidence!!! Beyond that, I reserve my comments…

On the Yahoo! Answers page, someone has asked about how to get over writer’s block on a particular story, and another user has replied, “Read, write”… Yes, that’s it. Verbatim. Just that. I was stunned by this excellent piece of advice!

There was another response on a similar query on Yahoo! Answers, and I wanted to kill this user for writing, “Turn the block into a sculpture because writers block is an illusion.”… GRRRRRR…

On yet another website, the author recommended gathering topics / plots from Twitter – “find out what people are talking about” and then write about it!! Oh goodness, what a divine cure for writer’s block!

One person recommended downloading OmmWriter – supposedly, my sickly blue background of MS Word is aggravating my case of writer’s block!

One person actually suggested writing about writer’s block to get over it!!! He also suggested having a peppermint candy… strangely enough! He reckons it stimulates the brain cells… of course, he didn’t quote his source for that information!!!

Well, the effect of these articles was quite good on my writer’s block. It must be evident to you too, because I did manage to churn this out, didn’t I?! Voila!!! Bye bye, writer’s block! It seems, in my case, outrage and sarcasm work better than mind-numbing pain to get those creative juices flowing!

Oh, and for those of you who are wondering, yes, of course I found some good articles too on battling writer’s block. But taking a leaf out of them, I will write another article on them, so as to officially put my writer’s block behind me!

So long then, fellas…

Omelets Crêpe (serves one)

After a long time, I made something new - i.e., made it up myself. I was pretty happy with the result, so here goes! Happy cooking!

Ingredients:

1. Butter (preferably unsalted) – 3 spoons
2. Mushrooms – 2 medium sized buttons, thinly sliced
3. Onions – ½ medium sized, finely chopped
4. Capsicum – ¼ large size, chopped
5. Cheese Spread – two spoons. Slices / Cubes can be used too.
6. Mayonnaise – two spoons
7. Chicken / Lamb Salami – 2 slices
8. Eggs – 2
9. Milk – 2 spoons
10. Salt, Ground Pepper and Oregano (ground / flakes) – to taste

Method:

1. Place a non-stick frying pan on a medium flame, and add ¼ spoon of butter into it.
2. When the butter heats up, place the salami slices on the pan and fry for one minute. Then flip the slices over and fry for another minute.
3. Remove the salami slices from heat, chop them up and keep the frying pan aside.
4. Now place a cooking pan on a medium flame, add two spoons of butter and heat.
5. When the butter heats up and begins to foam, add chopped mushrooms, onions & capsicum, in that order, and sauté till cooked. Take care to maintain at least a minute’s gap between adding the three ingredients.
6. Add the cheese, mayonnaise & chopped salami slices, sprinkle some ground pepper and oregano and mix well.
7. Remove the mixture from heat and keep aside.
8. Now add the eggs, milk, salt and ground pepper in a bowl, and whisk them together.
9. Place the non-stick frying pan again on a medium flame, and add ¾ spoon of butter into it.
10. Once the butter heats up and foams, add the egg mixture to the pan, and lower the flame. Make sure the egg mixture spreads evenly over the surface of the pan. You can either use a flat ladle to do that, or if you are experienced enough, simply tilt the frying pan so that the whole surface is covered.
11. When the mixture settles down, and the moistness of the top surface evaporates, add the pre-cooked filling in the middle of the omelette. If the cheese has hardened by now, heat the mixture in an oven for a short while before adding it, so that the cheese has a thick consistency.
12. Carefully fold the four sides of the omelette inwards, so as to cover the filling completely within the folds.
13. Remove the omelette from the frying pan, taking care not to break it.
14. Serve immediately, with tomato sauce if you like, else the cheese will harden.

The Devil’s Snare

Tuesday, 24th Jan. ’07

I have done it! I have finally broken the ice with Manish – just some inconsequential small talk, albeit with some flirtatious hints thrown in, but yes, we have started talking!!! Or rather, I have started talking to him.

I should perhaps fill in the details about the past few days before ploughing on with the day’s events. So, here goes.

Ever since I resolved to ensnare Manish, I have been returning his flirtatious signals with signals of my own – a gaze with a naughty stare, a slight smirk with a barely concealed femme fatale shy grin! But all of these, like him, well concealed from the public eye! Quite naturally, his shocked reactions to these are not quite concealed – and people are noticing! People other than my gal pals, I mean…

But it was only actions and no talk… and without smooth talking, how could I ever get closer?! So I stayed on the lookout, meaning to break the ice with a cool, witty conversation. But my over enthusiastic colleagues got… well, over enthusiastic. They staged quite a disaster for me the other day, trying to get the two of us talking. Some weird thing about him wanting chocolates and me coincidentally having some – honest to God, it was actually that lame. Thank goodness he was equally abashed and realized that both of us had been tricked, else it would’ve been really difficult to get my footing back as the deceptive flirt!

So, I stayed put on the lookout, and finally got the chance to have our little chit chat today. He was wearing a moss green polo neck sweater, and I noticed it. And the first time we crossed each other in the lobby, I asked him with a naughty smile, “Is it that cold in Kolkata?!”

I am sure he caught on to the double meaning of my words, and blushed – but he had no ready reply for me. That disappointed me a bit. I somehow thought he’d be a smooth talker, but well… unlucky me! Or may be my attack was unexpected. Either ways, we’ll have to wait and watch!

Things have started to look up anyway… at least the phase of “ensnaring” has begun.

I have another bright idea though – it’ll do me a world of good if I get to know more about the guy. And what better way to do that than to befriend some of his department people? I will have to be on a lookout for that too – may be I will get lucky and get to charm some other eligible bachelors as well!!!

Well, well, well… the Devil is indeed at work! Wish me luck with the Devil’s Snare!

Is This Love? Is This Life?

The ranting mood has returned. The bottled words and mottled feelings make their way onto the paper – to be heard and felt… not to be dismissed.

There is so much to talk about. There is so much to be resolved. But the words don’t come… somehow, the two worlds separate, and the language of one is unintelligible to the other.

Moods contrast… feelings clash…

There is so much anger… but when sleep steals over the anger-distorted features, somehow they become baby-like. And the baby craves to be held close… when the hug is withdrawn, the baby makes those teensy restless moves and coos, as if begging for the hug to come back… and it does, and the baby sleeps peacefully again. And then suddenly, the anger-monster wakes him up, and he is no longer a baby, and no longer wants to be held. Caresses enrage him, empathy disgusts him…

I get angry… I get upset… I get sad… I get despondent…

But then I remember the baby’s teensy restless moves, and the barely audible cooing that begged to be hugged… and a sudden ache fills my heart…

Such is love.

I remember the way strong hands hold me when I shiver and tremble, the way a cocoon shields me from the harsh sunrays and the cold monsoon sprays and the ashen winters… and I know what compassion is like…

A hope flares, filling me with a bright rainbow. The language of the two worlds is not different after all – it is but the same… the language of love… the paths of the two worlds have separated, but they will wind their way through until they criss-cross to meet once again…

Such is life.

An Example Set By KFC

A few days back, I witnessed an incident that made me want to write again (and between you and me, that means quite a thing – since these days I feel too lazy to wield the pen!) and here I am, relating it to you.

My mom and I had some errands to run, and in between working them out, we stopped at KFC, City Center for a snack. We ordered our usual and sat around for some time. When we were just about to leave, I noticed we had some unused ketchup sachets. I waved to the nearest person, and handed them over, saying we didn’t need them. The person didn’t quite understand my words and was about to tear the sachets open, evidently under the impression that we couldn’t get it open and wanted his help. I immediately stopped him and repeated my words – but to my extreme surprise, the guy indicated that his hearing and speech were impaired. After that, I had to gesture to him that we didn’t need the condiments, and he could take it away, and he did.

My mom and I stared after him, our hearts filled with admiration and hope. So far, we had never come across a restaurant which employed such people. We couldn’t resist appreciating the effort to the restaurant manager. He told us that the guy was in charge of managing the stock, clearing away used trays, etc. He also informed us that as a policy, in almost all KFC outlets, physically challenged persons are employed in an effort to let them lead a normal life. I was too impressed for words. And then, I resolved to write about it.

What we witnessed that day wasn’t an Indian act. We Indians, and I will not mince my words here, don’t have the guts or backbone to take such a step. But KFC is truly American in its ways, and what they are doing is something that only an American / European establishment would dare to do. This may hurt the sentiments of many a conscientious Indian, but that really will not change the facts.

I would truly love to claim, as an Indian, that Indian establishments are equally gutsy – but the fact is that we have never, ever come across any such efforts on the part of any of the high flying indigenous restaurants. They want physically fit persons to serve them, because, of course, they are worried that a person who is unable to hear or speak will piss the customers off, and that in turn would reduce their profits. A good many of them also think that such people would be of no use to the establishment. And hence, the typical Indian glam restaurant will only hire the glam girls and hunky chaps, and not even spare a glance towards the less fortunate.

Honestly, I am concerned. We Indians, while claiming to be the best in Heaven-Knows-What, actually do nothing about taking a step towards real progress. We want “equality” in everything, and yet we don’t ever really do what is required to bring about true equality. We scream for opportunities to be given to the less fortunate, and when the opportunity is really given, we scream about how inefficient the less fortunate are. We forget that that is why they are less fortunate. We forget all about equality and opportunities. We become downright selfish.

And then we say our culture has no place for vices like selfishness!

A Sight to Behold

Yesterday, while on my way back from office, I watched something amazing happen in the skies above me. I wish to hell I had my camera on me, so that I could’ve taken a few pictures of the incident. But since I did not manage to get any picture, I’m trying to recapture the scene in words.

My attention was first attracted by a supersonic airplane (the kind that leaves a trail of white smoke behind) flying from the western horizon – the smoke trail was tinged bright orange against the backdrop of the setting sun. Quite by chance, I happened to look at the eastern horizon at the same time – but to my surprise, I saw another supersonic airplane approaching the west.

At that point, I had to turn my head towards the west to see the first plane, and to the east to see the second one. But within minutes, they closed in upon each other, and I could see both airplanes together. Soon, I could see the two tiny specks, which actually were two supersonic airplanes full of passengers, hurtling towards each other.

Down below, my heart skipped a beat. Although my rational sense told me that the two airplanes must be at different altitudes, I could not stop the trepidation in my heart – what if they collided? But before I could even start imagining the consequences, the two airplanes (as it appeared to me) came within a meter of each other, then a foot and then within a centimeter of each other… And then, miraculously, they crossed each other – making a perfect ‘X’ across the sky!

Grounded on firm terrain below, two unconnected thoughts crossed my mind. One, that the ones sitting in those two aircrafts were not even aware that at that moment, they crossed another aircraft mid-air, so precariously. And secondly, at that particular moment, those people were perhaps admiring from up there how beautiful (or ugly, depending upon the individual’s viewpoint) our planet looks!

Although I missed the major moments, I managed to take the following picture a few minutes later, while the ‘X’ was still inscribed across the sky. The sight of that ‘X’ still makes my back tingle… What if…???

The Flirtatious Colleague!

Thursday, 11th Jan. ‘07

My colleagues are working overtime these days. In fact, I should say, their match-making brains are! And all because of a handsome young guy who has recently been deputed to our office from another branch. True to their nature, my colleagues have immediately started plotting about how best to set him up with me – because I’m the only “single-ready-to-mingle” girl in the office! Their zeal is almost embarrassing.

Manish (that’s his name) has also realized something’s going on. It was only a matter of time anyway, given the fact that my darling colleagues start sniggering and nudging me every time they see him pass by. A few days back, the buffoons created such a ruckus that he stopped in his tracks, turned around and stared at us for one whole minute, and then gave me a smirk that clearly said, “well, lady, I know what’s going on!” I can’t tell you how embarrassed I was after that!

What’s worse, he’s started flirting with me in such a way that is quite unobtrusive to others, but is very evident to me! His demeanour has changed very subtly – as if to dare me to come up and confess my feelings to him. His confidence of having gained a female fan is so strong that it evokes an equally strong desire in me to show him his true place. It’s just my “female chivalry” that’s stopping me from doing so!

But of course, nothing escapes my colleagues’ attention, so they’ve caught on. In fact, they’ve now irritated me so much that I’ve got a good mind to have a fling with him just to shut these girls up! After all, that’s what they are after – some harmless fun! And harmless fun it shall be. It’s quite evident that Manish is one helluva play boy – so, a no expectations, no commitments, just for fun relationship will be perfectly ok with him! And it will be good fun for me too – it’s been quite some time since I’ve dumped guys like him!

Say, I am actually excited now… from tomorrow, I think I really will teach Manish a lesson in flirting! He thinks he can flirt without the world knowing what a hypocrite he is?! Well, I’ll show him how to flirt, and also let the world know that he isn’t as innocent as he looks! My, my – what a nasty girl I’m going to be from tomorrow! First I’ll ensnare him, and then I’ll disillusion him – oh, what fun!!! It’s been so long since I’ve played with a guy so! Devils bless me, and God help him!!!

Kudos to the Fire of Brisingr

I’ve just finished reading the third book of the Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini – Brisingr. In Paolini’s world, Brisingr means “Fire”. In some ways, the book does evoke a fire from within the reader. But for my part, I didn’t like the book as much as I had liked its predecessors.

But that’s not the point of this post.

I took precisely two days to read the book. And I formed my opinion of the book within two minutes of finishing it, perhaps. What struck me was, the author had spent three years to write this huge thing. And I have to admit, it is brilliant in its own way. But I (and many other readers like me), who have read almost all of the famous magical sequences (like the epic Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien, the exceptional Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling, the Bartimaeus Trilogy by Jonathan Stroud) lose no time whatsoever in comparing the work of Paolini to the already established ones.

I did so myself when I said to myself, “well, I think Bartimaeus Trilogy was better than this…” and a moment later, I hated myself for it.

You may well ask, what’s wrong with the comparison? To that I would answer, would you compare a duck to a hen, or a cat to a dog? Just like these belong to different species altogether, so is the Inheritance Cycle different from all other works! There can’t be, and shouldn’t be, any comparison among them.

There are different genres of literature – tragedy & comedy, fiction & non-fiction, prose & poetry. In the same way, different genres can be detected even in the writings of what appears to be upon the same subject. The magical worlds highlighted in each of the works I’ve mentioned differ from each other quite starkly. There is some overlapping, surely, but that is only to be expected! After all, dwarves and elves and djinnis and spirits and spells are all, in our opinion, residents of the magical world! How can any magical world be complete without them? It is akin to asking two chemists to prepare the same drug using different compositions, when we all know that any change in the composition would change the drug itself!

This post is an official apology to Cristopher Paolini, for comparing his work to the works of others, even though it was just the once, only to myself. I think it is an insult to an author, who spends so much of his time, energy and skills in writing something so beautiful, to unthinkingly dismiss the work since it is, in someone’s opinion, “not as good as so-and-so book”.

I think Paolini has done brilliantly. I might like LotR or Harry Potter more, but I think Eragon and the Inheritance Cycle also deserve a special position among the literatures of magical worlds. Kudos to you, Christopher Paolini!

Randon Ramblings

Life is strange.

A few days back there were forty of us – now there are just 15 left.

The real estate baron… the largest in the industry… oh, cut the crap out! DLF should be named the most politically correct company.

When Jet Airways terminated their employees, there was outrage – 2000 people sacked, without any reason except their own profits, in one day? Humanitarians, politicians, high fliers from every corner lost no time in “condemn”ing themsleves hoarse.

But not so for DLF. Oh no, because DLF played their politics very well indeed. They picked on the employees one by one – or maybe two or three at a time – and asked them to “resign”. No, they were NOT terminated. And certainly not in a bulk. No one can term it a lay-off – not when they had the resignations of the employees, put in “willingly”!

Oh, how clever of them… employees were told that DLF did not want to tarnish their careers by terminating them, and the world was told that there were no terminations.

The ones being asked to leave did not get the support of the fellow members of the team, because they feared for their own jobs. The ones who left had nothing to base their allegations on – showing off their resignation letters, the company distressfully declared to the world at large, “what can we do if anyone wants to quit?”

The once bustling office now lies empty, forsaken. The ones who remain feel guilty and indecent to have survived, and the memory of the ones who were not so lucky haunts them every moment. The spirit lies broken.

This post does not make sense. Working in DLF does not make sense. The fact that I survived when almost my entire group was done away with does not make sense too. These days, nothing makes sense... and yet I have to go on living, working and trying to see sense where none exist.

Loss

Tuhina was meticulously preparing herself for the evening. The apartment sparkled, and the dinner table was laid for two. Nothing could go wrong tonight. She couldn’t bear the thought of mistakes. She looked at the wall clock as it chimed 8:00 pm, and thought to herself, “It’s been more than 45 minutes. Where’s the damn guy?” She was waiting for the delivery guy, and was running out of time. She wanted to serve the dinner she had so lovingly prepared exactly at 8:30 pm.

She settled herself on the sofa, and re-read the letter she had been writing. It brought back those memories. Like sharp stabs of pain… and yet, she reminisced.

Tuhina was only a school going teenager when she was orphaned. Her parents had been quite well insured – the insurance companies informed her that she need not think of earning her luxuries, let alone survival, for a few years. The large sum of money didn’t quite mean anything to her. But to Raju Uncle, her father’s younger brother, it meant a great deal.

Raju Uncle tried every thing in his powers to lay his hands on the insurance money, but Tuhina’s Dad had chosen his lawyers very carefully. Raju Uncle realized soon enough that he would not be able to rob Tuhina of her property, and he wasted no further time in turning his back on her. Her mother had no living relatives.

How Tuhina battled on with life was a mystery even to her. She contemplated joining her parents almost every day, but then told herself to hold on. She completed schooling, and then graduation, with little support from the world. She had very few true friends, and no boyfriend, but she tried her best to stay oblivious to it. Her life seemed aimless, and yet, she lived. Starved of affection, incessantly ignoring the blaze of loneliness in her heart, Tuhina grew up.

Not every one appreciated Tuhina’s beauty. She was a startlingly pretty woman, but not in a conventional manner. It was in fact her dark eyes, which spoke volumes, and the curiously tilted smile on the corner of her lips, that made her so pretty. Whether these were the results of her hard life, or whether these were inheritances from her mother, no one could say! What one could say however is that, these were the precise things that Abhra noticed when he first saw her – and fell in love.

Abhra came into her life at a time when Tuhina had almost resigned herself to the fate of remaining alone for the rest of her life. All her friends had found their partners, and she’d not yet managed to have one affair! It was as if God had intended her to remain friendless and alone all her life. But then, she met Abhra.

Tuhina & Abhra’s backgrounds could not have been more different. Where Tuhina had led an almost deserted, neglected life, Abhra had been the life and soul of his family. It was this stark difference perhaps that brought the two of them together. Abhra loved and understood Tuhina like no one had ever done. She felt cherished and loved. Abhra even missed her if she was away for too long. For the first time in her life, Tuhina found happiness. She felt as if she truly belonged. She felt Abhra had made her dreams come true.

It wasn’t difficult for Abhra to convince his parents about his choice of bride – Tuhina wasn’t poor, unqualified or ugly. Abhra and Tuhina’s wedding was fixed for December 17, 2008.

Tuhina’s happiness knew no bounds – she was about to marry the man she loved and get a family of her own – in short, everything that she’d ever wanted!

It was a phone call in the early hours of October 5, 2008 that changed every thing. Abhra met with an accident, and didn’t survive to see the next sunrise. Tuhina’s dreams came crashing down around her.

It took Tuhina a long time to really comprehend what that phone call had meant. But today, she was wiser. Today, sitting alone at a table for two, she knew that it had meant she would never belong anywhere. It had meant there was no one left in the world to love or cherish her. It had meant she was all alone, once again, in this big, bad world. From now on, there would be no comforting arms around her, no gentle lips would kiss away her tears, no soothing voice would calm her fears down…

The tinkling sound of the bell brought Tuhina back to reality. She opened the door and the delivery guy handed her a bottle of sparkling red liquid – a bottle of wine. She paid the guy, and turned back to the sofa. She poured out two glasses of wine, and emptied the contents of a packet in one of them. She toasted an invisible companion, and then drank deeply. The effect was instantaneous – she felt drowsy, and all her thoughts began to drift away. But no, Tuhina had one last thing to do. Slowly, she picked up her pen, and put down today’s date on the letter:

17th December 2008.

Tuhina smiled. Now she could sleep peacefully. Now she knew, tomorrow she would wake up in the arms of Abhra, her sweetheart, and they would enjoy the sunrise with her Dad and Mom.

Posto Chicken Spiced Up!

9th December, 2008

Inspired by a few people, I have decided to diversify the ambit of my blog a bit more. So, here comes the new feature – my cookbook, “Tadka Laga Ke”!

Let me tell you that the first recipe being posted here is not an original one. This one has existed from time immemorial in the kitchens of the average Bengali. However, it features here because I’ve majorly improved upon the original recipe, and therefore I feel it is worth a mention here!

So here you go, wish you all the best in trying out this recipe of a spicier version of Posto Chicken!

Ingredients:
500 gms Chicken (washed and cut into pieces), 5 medium sized onions (peeled and sliced finely), 100 gms sour curd, 100 gms poppy seeds (commonly known as khus khus/ posto) ground into a paste, 1 dried red chilli, ½ tsp turmeric powder, 1tsp each of chilli, Everest chicken masala & Everest garam masala powders, 1tbsp ginger paste, ½ tbsp garlic paste, all garam masala (whole) & oil/ghee, salt and sugar to taste, dhania leaves (optional).

Preparation:
Pour the oil/ghee in a kadhai / frying panand heat on medium flame. Once hot, add the whole garam masala and the dried red chilli, and after 30 seconds, add the onions. When the onions are fried enough, add the ginger & garlic paste, and after 1 minute, add salt and sugar. After 2-3 minutes, add the other spices (i.e. turmeric, chilli, chicken masala & garam masala powders) and sauté. After about 5 minutes, add the sour curd and sauté again. Once the curd is blended properly in the mixture, add the chicken pieces. Cover the frying pan/ kadhai and cook on medium flame till the chicken becomes tender. If the chicken does not emit enough water, then sprinkle additional water till the chicken is tender. Now add the posto / khus khus / poppy seeds paste with a cup or two of water, and bring the whole thing to a boil. Keep cooking till the gravy becomes thick and nearly dry, and the posto/ khus khus/ poppy seeds paste coats the chicken pieces. If you want, you can sprinkle some dhania leaves over the preparation. Serve hot with parantha or rice.

You can find the original Posto Chicken recipe here.

Bon appétit!

Funny Side Up

2nd December, 2008

I remember having once talked about the two funniest incidents I’ve experienced in my life. I’ve finally managed to pen the two of them down here, and I must say, it feels great to be able to share the funny side of life in these times of great depression.

Incident 1

This incident dates back to the days when I was an eleventh grader in school.

As our school rules required students of the eleventh and twelfth grades to travel by public transport (we were denied the pleasure of school buses in an effort to acclimatize us to the urban public transportation system!) I was travelling to school by a public bus. The lady sitting next to me struck up a conversation, and asked my opinion about which school she should admit her 4 year old son to. I suggested a few names, and as Don Bosco, Park Circus was just next to my school, I mentioned that too. She asked me what the timings of the school were, and I rattled off the same. Since a few of my very good friends were from Don Bosco, I knew quite a lot about it, and being the good soul, told her all of it.

She heard it all, and asked me, “Do you study in Don Bosco?”

I was shocked! It was impossible to think of an average Calcuttan who does not know about Don Bosco (it’s one of the premiere schools for boys in Kolkata), and more so of a woman dreaming of getting her son admitted to one of the top bracket schools of Kolkata! I would bet anything that 99.99% of Calcuttans know that Don Bosco is an all-boys school! And I was very definitely a girl!!!

I myself have no idea how I bit my laughter back, and explained to her very politely that Don Bosco was not for girls! Later on, both in my own school and with my friends from Don Bosco, I had a gala time recounting this story.

In the times to come, I have narrated this tale to many people, and have even smiled to myself in reminiscence!

Incident 2

This was, if possible, an even funnier incident. This too dates back to the days when I was in the eleventh grade, not long after the one written about above.

I was walking down from my school to the nearest bus stop to catch a bus back home, when I noticed a lady walking towards me, looking rather confused. I stopped as she opened her mouth to speak. She asked me which school was I from. Considering the fact that the Pinks-n-Whites were from quite a famous school of Kolkata, MBG, many would consider it to be a stupid question. It was however courteous to answer the lady, and so I identified myself as belonging to MBG.

The next question took me completely by surprise! She asked me, in a rather confused manner, “But isn’t this the uniform of *** School?”

I coldly told her, “I don’t think I’d go to one school wearing the uniform of another school.”

She asked, “Are you absolutely sure?”

This time, exasperated, I couldn’t stop myself from answering back rather rudely, “I think I am absolutely sure about my own school and its uniform. Much surer than you are. I’m not off my rocker, thanks.” And I walked off.

But thinking back upon it, I have laughed my head off many a times, and till date, I must’ve recounted this tale to at least a hundred people! After all, it is a tale worth recounting – I don’t think many students have faced a situation where someone has expressed doubt about he/ she wearing the uniform of one school and going to another!!!

Afterthoughts on the Mumbai Attack

1st December, 2008

The Mumbai attack has shocked us all. It has made us all wonder, how safe are we really in this country? Or rather, is there any safety at all anywhere in the world? Maybe we should seriously consider making a beeline for the moon instead! But jokes apart, there are some things that have been haunting me, and I think the best way to get it out of my system is to pen them down.

The first thought is about a rather freakish generalization that every one makes about the Muslims of our country. After every terrorist attack, esp. in India, I get to hear every one – my friends, family, acquaintances and strangers – blasting the Indian Muslims off. It’s all down to them, it’s only because of these people that these terrorist attacks happen, and it’s these people who abet the terrorists. I sympathize with the Indian Muslims, try to defend them, but no one is in the mood to listen. I can’t but help feel vulnerable. I have quite a few Muslim friends, and they are no more involved in terrorist activities than I am, and yet they come under fire, when a lot of the others, who really are involved, go scot free.

I can’t understand this urge to generalize. And that too, only against the Muslims. Every one knows that there is no dearth of Indian Hindus (or belonging to other religious sects) who would, for the sake of money, sell their country and men to these terrorists. During their meticulous planning of these attacks, are we to understand that these terrorists did not take the help of any Hindus, Christians, Sikhs or others? Of course they did. And those Indians did not feel a thing while selling off their motherland to the terrorists. And yet, it is only the Muslims who come under attack.

Why do we do this? Why are we so eager to shift the blame off to other shoulders? Why can’t we take responsibility of our own actions and say, “Yes, we Indians come from a land of traitors, where no one loves their country. It is only money that matters to them.” Not family, not love, not even religion. Because no religion endorses killing of innocent lives. And yet, we do nothing to stop it.

Is it because we really can’t do anything, or because we don’t want to do the dirty work?

Secondly, I can’t but help doubt the strength of our country’s defense mechanisms. Bulks of RDX were shipped into the commercial capital, and police was aware of it. The terrorists were staying in the city, and planning their attacks, and the intelligence did nothing. And finally, what security did these large five stars have? None.

One would think that after the episode of the JW Marriot in Pakistan, we would have learnt. Evidently not. We believe in learning through our own mistakes, rather than through the mistakes of others.

When we all were wondering how these terrorists could’ve entered these hotels and create such havoc, an acquaintance of mine pointed out a very pertinent deficiency in the security system of the five stars. They frisk the visitor, but do they check the luggage? No, they don’t. The visitor can carry anything inside – anything at all. There is no baggage x-ray system, like in the airports. It turns out that it is quite a necessary system that should be installed in the hotels. Why is it that we are thinking about all this after such destruction? Why didn’t we plug the holes before anything of the sort could’ve happened? No one knows.

But we do know that we are not safe anywhere. The railways are a fiasco. There is no one to check the travelers. If the terrorists want to blast off the Howrah or the Sealdah stations, it would be only too easy – and it would cost a lot of lives. If the terrorists want to carry RDX or other stuff from one place to another by train, no one will even detect it – because there again, no one checks the baggage. The security system is almost equally dismal in the naval transport, seeing as the terrorists had used it to gain entry into Mumbai.

Which basically means, we are not safe anywhere. Except perhaps in our own homes. Or may be not even there, as one blast on the street, caused by the very same bombs which have been smuggled in through the railways or the ships, can claim our lives even when we are in there. A terrifying fact which the media is almost painstakingly etching into our minds.

That brings me to the third thought that has been haunting me real bad. The media. Are they doing anything worthwhile? Is it any good broadcasting to the world what the government, police and commandos are doing at every stage? They are merely forewarning the terrorist outfits about our strengths, and consequently our weaknesses. The common man does not need to know the nitty-gritty of the evacuation activities, not do they need to see the gruesome details on television.

But the media also is too selfish to care. They just want their channels / magazines / papers to sell, and in their race to report the most gruesome, most intimate details of such terrorist attacks, they don’t stop to think about the security of their nation. They forget the might of the pen, and instead, glorify the sword. The media does not hesitate to highlight the worst, and neglect the best. They think that by flashing the human remains of the martyrs, they will sell themselves to the public. But they do not stop to think once of how the morale of the public would drop, what insecurity they are injecting into the public mood.

Has the media forgotten its duties? Has it forgotten that media lives to brighten up the lives of the public, and not to demoralize them? Has it forgotten that its objective is not to scare the public into reticence, but to inspire them to march ahead, irrespective of the hardships?

Having been a part of the print media before, I really feel relieved that I am no more a part of a system which thrives on the negatives of lives, and exists to wipe out the positives.

The last thought pertains to us Kolkatans. And the false, really selfish sense of security we suffer from. Post Mumbai attacks, one refrain was to be heard from almost every Kolkatan. “We are safe here. Kolkata is the exit route for these terrorists; they will not do anything to jeopardize that one.”

It shames me to think of myself as a Kolkatan these days. Because like the rest, we too think only of our own safety. We know Kolkata is a safe haven for the terrorists. We know that they enter our country through the minimally protected Bangladesh borders, mingle and stay with us, gather information through us, plan and then carry out their objectives. And yet, we are shameless enough to say that we are safe, because the terrorists do all this here. We forget that by saying this, we are actually saving our own necks at the cost of numerous other who die as a result of these terrorist activities. And yet, the average Kolkatan will do nothing upon hearing or seeing anything suspicious. He loves himself too much, even more than the brother who stays and works in Mumbai, or the friend who resides in Delhi. He doesn’t care even about his own family going up in flames in the U.S. He is just happy to be alive himself.

The average Kolkatan forgets that the terrorists will leave none. They do not target Kolkata as often as they target Delhi and Mumbai because Kolkata is dead – in terms of investment, industry or people. One day, when Mumbai, Delhi and the other cities become impregnable fortresses, learning out of the many scars that the terrorist attacks have left on their faces, these terrorists will realize that Kolkata is the most soft target – and that day, they will take advantage of this false sense of security, and blow the city up in flames. And that day, we Kolkatans will perhaps not even get the time to rue the moments when we could’ve ended it all, but we did not bother.

I wish it was not like this I wish I was not a part of a world that might go up in arms and flames any day, any time. I wish we could all join hands to do something about it. But alas… I belong to a nation of traitors. Neither will they do anything themselves, nor will they let me do anything to make this a better place to live in…

Delicious Snippets…

1st November, 2008

I’ve heard my ancestors had quite a penchant for treating their guests to delicious food, and I seem to have inherited that particular gene! I find it greatly satisfying when someone appreciates the food I’ve cooked, or even something that I’ve recommended. Here are some snippets of such incidents which have given me great joy, and the intention behind posting it here is to create a mass effect – so that anyone reading this also knows my recommendations, and hopefully, will taste them someday (although, since most of it is to be found in Kolkata, it might take the non-Kolkata-residents / non-resident Kolkatans a lot of effort to do so)!

Snippet One:
I think I’ve had the world’s most enticing, delicious and yummy fresh strawberry milkshake in a rather shabby roadside shanty in Pune. This shanty however is pretty famous in the city, and is situated on the Dhole Patil Road, right beside a massive building called The Connaught Place (that’s right, Connaught Place in Pune!). My roommate Mansi introduced me to this intoxicating milkshake, and I in turn passed the infection on to two or three friends of mine – and I noticed with satisfaction that they were as smitten by it as I was, if not more! So much so that the last time we were in Pune to collect our degrees, etc. (it was for two days only – fortunately though, it was in December, the season of strawberries!), we made it a point to have two glasses of fresh strawberry milkshake each day!

Snippet Two:
Months ago, I was very surprised to know on a hot summer afternoon that my colleague Sanghamitra (we’ll call her Mou for short) had never had iced tea. I promptly decided to introduce her to the world’s best natural cold drink. So, in we went to Barista, and had a glass of peach flavoured iced tea each. Mou was so impressed by it that ever since that afternoon, she’s preferred an iced tea over a cola, and yet can’t appreciate the beverage served at any place other than Barista (for which she squarely blames me!), as they seem positively drab compared to the heavenly drink we had in there!!!

Snippet Three:
I had the privilege of introducing Mou to another wonderful place a few days back – the famous Nahoum’s Bakery at New Market. Ever since I was big enough to have cakes and pastries, Nahoum’s was the place my Dad took me to. Nahoum’s has given me the exquisite delight of having delicious cakes and pastries at a time when there was no Monginis, Sugar n Spice or Kookie Jar in Kolkata, and I daresay the items from Nahoum’s taste much, much better! Though we were full to bursting point when we visited Nahoum’s that day, we still could not resist ourselves from having a host of cakes and pastries, and Mou particularly enjoyed the blackforest pastry, which has been a speciality of theirs for long!

Snippet Four:
Ashish had of late been quite smitten by the kochuris (a kind of hand stretched and fried bread, quite popular in India) of a roadside hawker near our office. To my palate, the kochuris were no better than average, and so I decided to treat him to some really good roadside kochuris. And what better place than Shyambazar to look for such things?! It is common knowledge that kochuri, shingara (samosa for some) & jilipi (jalebi to some) form the breakfast of a typical Bengali on a Sunday. Therefore, one Sunday, we drove out to Shyambazar, and went to this place just beside the Duff School, and treated ourselves to some amazing kochuri, aloo-r dum, ghugni & jilipi. I had initially planned to take him to a shop just opposite the Chittaranjan sweets shop, which is by far the best in the locality, but due to some unavoidable reasons we had to restrain ourselves to the second best! The effect however was no less grand – trust me, since that morning, Ashish has not, even for once, praised the kochuris of the roadside hawker near my office!

Sharing Experiences…

It's been quite some time since I wrote about my real life here. So today, I thought I’d share two of my recent experiences – one which touched me immensely, and the other which amused me to no end! Such experiences are rare and unexpected in daily life, and therefore it feels truly good to be able to share them with the world.

September 9, 2008

My story starts at a time when I was on my way back home from Durgapur (I’d been there on an official trip). The Volvo bus that was to carry me to Kolkata was waiting to depart at the Durgapur Bus Stop, and I was sitting aboard, quite immersed in the book I was reading at the time. A small voice of a girl was barely reaching my ears, very sweetly requesting the passengers on board to buy a few packets of incense sticks from her. She reached my seat and made the same request to me, and I looked up to find a little girl of about 10 years of age, selling scented incense sticks. Since I had no wish to light them, I refused to buy any. She requested me to help her by giving her some money, which she would use to buy her school stuff. May be there was a ring of truth in her voice, or may be it was just the sweet way of her talking, but I reached into my purse, extracted fifty bucks and handed it to her.

The look on her face will stay with me forever – she was speechless. It was evident that it was beyond her wildest dreams that someone would just give her fifty bucks without even buying something from her, just like that. She looked at me for a few seconds, then muttered a little prayer, and tried to push a box of incense sticks into my hand. I refused it – I wasn’t about to use it, and I reckoned she’d get some money by selling it to some one else. She thanked me profusely for being so generous to her, and went her way. I took it for granted that I would not see her again, like so many others of her kind. Till then, there was nothing unusual about the story.

However, just as the bus was about to roll out of the Stand, the little girl came hurrying back to me, and pressed into my hands a small packet of roasted and salted groundnuts! This time, it was my turn to be speechless – I have known many street urchins, beggars and even genuinely needy children who ask for money as they have no other way out. I’d deduced that she belonged to the third category – but even so, I did not think she would be this thankful for my help! But evidently, she was a cut different from the rest… I was so touched I couldn’t even thank her properly, and before I could gather myself together, the bus rolled out, and I watched with misted eyes at the rapidly shrinking shape of the little girl by the side of the road…

October 18, 2008

The second experience is actually quite unconnected to the one above, and also very different – I’ve never had a funnier experience! (Actually, no, looking back, I think I’ve had two experiences which are funnier than this one. But more about them some other time – now to get on with the story!)

We’d been to RDB Adlabs to catch a newly released movie. The movie was a hideous disaster, and it seemed the city folks had realized it much before we did – for the hall was not even half-filled. Among our fellow spectators, some were there to get cosy with their guys / gals, some because they had nothing better to do, and some because they didn’t trust the movie reviews published in the papers (to which category yours truly belongs). One person however seemed to have found the perfect excuse to buy a ticket for the movie – to sleep!!!

I don’t know how many people noticed him during the movie, but once it was over and people started leaving the hall, they really couldn’t miss the sight - there he was, alone, with his feet up on the row in front, sound asleep as if he was on the most comfortable bed possible!!! Indeed, the cleaning staff had to shake him quite hard to wake him up, and a little later, we noticed him wander into the parking lot (although he had no car), utterly confused and most probably still half asleep, trying to figure out where the exit was!

Laughing our heads off, we imagined what the director of the movie would say to this man, if word of the latter’s actions reached him! Would the director have woken up to the fact that his movies are being treated as lullabies by many?! Or would he simply have treated such action as an extreme insult to his directing capabilities?!

Either way, I think the man proved what we so often hear in sermons and lectures – that “Actions Speak Louder than Words”!

Christmas Getaway…

Wednesday, 26th Dec. '06

Christmas was quite merry and gay this year! We had planned a Christmas getaway to a small nearby town, just a little way outside the city, which is famous for its ancient cathedral. We – meaning the whole gang of Anu, Ayush, Sameer, Pari, Mallika, Ritika, Sandeep, Pranati, Prithvi, Sajid, Gaurav and me – left on Christmas Eve, by Anu’s Qualis. We were absolutely packed in the car, and yet it was so much fun!!! We really missed Shubhra n Abhigyan a lot – they couldn’t make it, as they had their plans with families.

It was a five hour journey, and we took turns in driving the car. The journey was dotted with many anecdotes, jokes and leg-pullings! Shortly after 11 in the night, we reached our hotel. We unloaded the luggage in the lobby, and immediately headed towards the cathedral. The midnight mass was just about to begin, and we were lucky not to miss any of it…

After singing ourselves hoarse, and listening to much Bible, we finally came back to the hotel at 2am. We had taken three 4-bedded rooms – we let Sameer & Pari share a room with Anu & Ayush, as these were the two love-struck couples in our group! Sandeep, Prithvi, Gaurav & Sajid were in another room, and the four girls, Pranati, Mallika, Ritika & I shared the third room. Once we had all carried our luggage up into our respective rooms, everyone gathered in the girls’ room for a late night chat session!!

The two love-struck couples were the first to retire, and though originally it had been decided that the boys would sleep in one room and the girls in the other, Sajid, Ritika & Mallika were so sleepy that they soon got into the boys’ room and slept off! I had had a long day at office, and sleep was tugging at my eyelids, but I still stayed awake to chat and sing with the other four… in fact, I didn’t even realize when sleep stole over me…

When I woke up last morning, I found myself sleeping with my head on Prithvi’s leg. It was small consolation for me that the others were in no better postures – Pranati had her legs across Gaurav’s chest, and Sandeep had fallen off the bed and was sleeping on the carpet below! I was the first to wake up, and the fact that I had slept all night on his leg struck me full in the face. It was quite obvious that Prithvi had not even attempted to prise me off his leg, and had slept all night in a weird posture to let me sleep in peace…

I didn’t know what to make of it… may be Prithvi was just being the gentleman that he is to all the others… or is there something else?

Relieved suddenly of the weight on his leg, Prithvi woke up quite abruptly, rubbed his eyes and sat up… realizing that I was up already, he grinned widely at me and said, “I didn’t know you were so fond of my leg! Or is it that you worship me to no end, and thought sleeping on my leg will help you achieve salvation?!”

The jocular attack was so sudden that it put all my thoughts away, and I picked up the first pillow that I could lay my hands on and threw it at him! He ducked, and then threw one at me, which missed me because I had jumped off the bed! Within seconds, we were engaged in a furious pillow fight, and the three others woke up to cheer us on!! We had to call the pillow fight off after some time though, as Sameer and Ayush had ambled in to find out if “we were all in one piece” still! That prompted me to throw the next pillow at Sameer instead, and soon all the others had also joined us, and someone suggested that we call for breakfast. That brought us right back to our surroundings, and we immediately started deciding what to call for.

I felt relieved. It didn’t matter to Prithvi, he had taken this event of the night just as a friendly thing. For him, it was one of those million things that just happen between friends. I don’t know why, but I felt relieved to think that Prithvi didn’t feel anything else… it was weird, and I asked myself why I was so relieved – but I had no answer…

The delicious smell of the pancakes, scrambled eggs and toasts wafted through my chain of thoughts, breaking it so effectively that, all thoughts forgotten, I quickly joined the others in attacking the plates with vigour. After the sumptuous breakfast, we went down to the lobby. It seemed as if we had burst into the home of a very ardent Christian! The lobby was beautifully decorated, with a model of the Virgin Mary with little Jesus, a Christmas Tree and a live Santa Claus, who promptly bounced towards us and handed a lollipop to Ritika! We all had a hearty laugh at this, and kept teasing Ritika for the entire morning about how she was still the “baby” of the group!

Though there was nothing much to see in the town, we still ambled out of the hotel and went to the Botanical Garden nearby, where we had mini picnic beside the river that flows through it. Soon after, however, some of the group started feeling bored of sitting around, so we hired a couple of motor boats and went boating. That was so enjoyable that we did not realize where time flew, and before we knew it, it was 5pm already and it was time to leave!

Having nothing better to do, we trooped into the games parlour of our hotel, and spent quite some time in there, playing pool, striker, video games and casino. Soon it was time for dinner and we went into the hotel bar-cum-restaurant, where a Christmas special dinner had been laid out! We had roast turkey, Christmas pudding and wine, and the food was amazing!

In the night, we hired a video cassette of a couple of newly released movies, and watched them in our rooms. We went to sleep after 3am, but this time we slept in our allotted rooms.

Early this morning, I woke up to the ringing of my mobile phone. Startled, I noticed that it was Prithvi calling… I answered, and Prithvi asked me if I was awake yet. I joked, “No, I’m sleep talking! Tell me, wassup?”

He laughed and asked if I wanted to see something “incredible”. I asked him what the “incredulous” thing was, but he refused to tell me, and called me to the terrace instead. Curious, I walked up there – and I indeed saw the most incredible sunrise ever! The red sun was looking like a semi-circle in the horizon, its scarlet rays reflected in the river… the birds were chirping sleepily, and the town had not yet woken up to the day… it was the most romantic scene I’ve ever watched in my life…

Prithvi and I stood side by side, watching the sky turn slowly from orange to pink to purple to light blue… I could tell that Prithvi was as conscious of our hands brushing and our nearness to each other as I was… but we steadily ignored the whisperings of the wind and slowly came back to our rooms. Without waking anyone, or letting anyone know, we slipped back into our beds, waiting for them to wake up…

Not long after that, we started back from the hotel, and six hours later, we are now all at our respective homes… and I still don’t know what to make of all of it. I don’t know why he asked me to witness the sunrise, and not the others. I don’t know why he could not break the spell of nearness up on the terrace. At times, I feel Prithvi only regards me as an especially good friend, and is quite unconcerned about any “special feelings” between us. But during this morning, and the drive back home, he was unusually quiet, especially with me. Just coincidence? I certainly hope so…

And don’t ask me why I hope so – I just don’t feel anything special, anything like “love”, for him… And if I did, I wouldn’t know how to handle it with him… It would certainly be strange, and I got the first taste of it this morning. May be he too felt the same? May be he too was quiet as he didn’t know how to handle it? I don’t know… some one help me, please…