To be or not to be – Ashamed

Though we aren’t typical fitness buffs, Mr. Hubby & I do have frequent bouts of fitness consciousness. That’s when we head to the various magnificent parks of saadi Dilli for a good walk. The one that’s my favorite is Lodi Garden. With a boasting variety of lush green trees, white ducks lazying around in a beautiful manmade lake, kids playing around, fitness freaks sweating it out, Lodi Garden surely is a prized possession of Delhi.

A recent visit to the Garden though, inspired me to reveal another quality of Lodi Garden – a regular hangout for youngsters who are unaware of their shame quotient. Sometimes shooting hormones overtake the shame quotient and the couples run on the highway of lust, hoping to be embraced by Cupid himself! Sounds funny? Well, last evening, as I went for the usual walk, the scenarios I witnessed gave me the perfect masala, and being the crazy greedy blogger, anything and everything the brown eyes see, the hands quickly blog it down.

Well, before telling you about what exactly happened, it’s important to give some more insights about these couples. Normally, a sultry summer day would keep us within the confines of our homes. But for these hormone driven souls, the wrong is right. Bad weather is the perfect weather; coz it ensures no one’s watching their coochy cooing. So you will spot more action behind the bushes on a bad weather day than on a pleasant one. Is it shame quotient or fear of being caught – only they can answer & I have honestly never bothered to ask.

So, last evening, 100m down the jogging track inside the garden, I spotted something in bright maroon behind the bushes. Having read recently in the tabloids about an eve teasing case in Lodi Garden, I decided to find out. To my surprise, the lady in maroon was comfortably seated on the lap of her beau, enjoying perhaps the smelly bushes and the boundary wall view. (Can’t really explain it all here, please feel free to estimate what I actually saw). Here I was thinking someone needed help whereas that someone herself was lending a helping hand. Seeing the angry me heading towards them, Mr. Hubby immediately took charge and told me not to interfere in someone’s private matter. “A private matter in a public property! Filthy!” was all I could utter in the loudest possible tone before Mr. Hubby took me away from them.

Seems the show had just begun. Few meters ahead, again in the bushes, I spotted a scene, more interesting than the previous one – one beauty serenaded by two guys. Usually, there is only one hero but hats off to this girl for smartly managing two of them. I wasn't ready to believe, so standing on the jogging track, my eyes searched for the 2^nd gal. But soon I realized standing there would have meant making a fool out of myself. People passed by and nobody bothered to look that side, then why do I waste my time? Let it be, I thought and ran to catch up with Mr. Hubby who had by now jogged way ahead of me.

The picture was far from over. For behind almost every thick tree, I could easily spot action, even from a distance. And we even got to witness the typical climax ala Bolly wood style. Just as we crossed the jogging track near Tomb of Sikandar Lodi, my eyes saw the impossible. A couple was rolling away in the park. The shame quotient had gone so low that they didn’t even bother to hide behind a tree. The scene reminded me of the Sridevi starring “Nagina” movie I had seen as a kid, where two snakes rolled away non-stop when fighting. This one of course was far from fighting. Two fat aunties walking in the park too stopped and began looking at them in horror. A couple playing nearby with their kid quickly took the child away. This time I decided neither to give up nor to wait for a guard to come and shoo them away. Moving a bit close to them, I gave them a continuous stern sixty year old auntie look, till the snakes quickly went out of sight.

As I walked, I wondered was it the sense of shame that makes such couples find cozy corners in public parks or the lack of it that makes them give in to their hormones in the first place!

Feeling a sense of pride in my silent moral policing, I quickly jogged to catch up with Mr. Hubby, and just as I was telling him my hero moment, my eyes went wide to see the girl in maroon still in action behind the bushes. Several thoughts came to mind –

     1.     Click their pic & threaten to tweet to police if they don’t move out

     2.    Throw pebbles at them and disturb them

     3.    Charge at them, claiming to be from a moral policing organization.

     4.    Just ask them to leave and go to a park where there weren't any kids.

Wondering what I eventually did? Well, nothing, for I saw a bunch of drivers enjoying the matinee show by peeping from the boundary wall. The couple of course was oblivious to the uninvited guests.

“Serves them right” I said with a smile and resumed my jog...

Maybe the authorities can consider something like this for the annoying lot

My first book review – If I could tell you

With fingers trembling, I begin a journey on a new path. Having read some amazing book reviews over the last couple of months, I had been toying with the idea of writing one myself, but hesitated at the thought of being taken for a critic. Being a blogger, I just adore each and every word out of my mind, and no matter how much a self proclaimed feedback loving person I am, I would disappointedly question if some novice someone were to review and criticize my blog. But then, somewhere it has to begin, and before the thought of writing a book review itself translates into a blog post, let me begin the review.

“If I could tell you”, by Soumya Bhattacharya – Mr. Hubby suggested this book one morning to a grumpy me when I was complaining of a mundane schedule, stress, no “me” time, etc etc. Knowing I had conveniently stayed away from fiction for a long time, he suggested this would be refreshment.

Didn't know the book I took up to read for time pass would end up engrossing me for 3 days and some wee hours as well, right through my daily metro ride oblivious to the swarm of people in the metro, jostling against each other. Wanting to avoid bias, I avoided reading any reviews.

They say, never judge a book by its cover. So true. What seemed like a series of lecture filled letters from a typical Indian father to his daughter actually is much more than just that – a father sharing candid insights about his life with his daughter, sans any effort to idolize or inculcate anything. Just an honest account of his life & its various shades – the triumphs, failures, dilemmas and running parallel throughout is a beautiful depiction of his feelings about his bundle of joy, the only accomplishment in his life that makes him swell with joy – fatherhood. Often, authors get swayed by the emotions and that’s when such books become boring. Not this one. Soumya, in a completely “Soumya” and subtle manner knows how to keep his readers hooked on. So, layered between the various crunchy memories are creamy fillings of how a father bonds with his daughter despite the odds in his life, how he feels about the transformation in his daughter, from a chirpie toddler to a shy yet responsible kid coping with the ever changing situations – a perfect cookie that just melts in the reader’s mouth!

New parents would enjoy reading the initial half, and even if you are not, Soumya’s depiction of his earliest memories with his daughter would make you desire your little one too.

When the narrator ensures you are glued to the book, he slowly introduces the story of his life – a life that begins with a zero and ends with….well, you better read for yourself. A life of struggles despite having everything, of stress despite a laid back life one would envy, feeling of emptiness despite a fulfilling life.  Its takes guts to accept ones mistakes and failures in front of one’s child and he shows that grit. I loved when at one particular moment; he celebrates rejection of his manuscript by a publisher. Instead of sulking at rejection, he saw it as his entry into the literary world, whatever small interaction it gave him with the fraternity. Now that’s what we call optimism!

However, the story gets sad in the second half. The narrator’s return to Mumbai, the city he began with, inability or rather I should say, laziness to manage and grow money, the constant hammering of failed ambitions, frustration at facing so much change and the twist in the tale that changes the fate of father daughter duo forever.

Life if anything, is about picking up the broken pieces and moving on so that’s exactly what they do. No matter how many hurdles come their way, the father never ceases to care and comfort his daughter. But how long can one sustain with failures and grief staring in the mirror every morning? The protagonist is after all a human being. What happens next is what I leave on the readers to find out since I don’t wanna spoil the fun.

Well, I began the book with a smile and by evening when Mr, Hubby was home, I was all tears, reading the last page. The author’s account is so real, so detailed that you end up believing it’s his own story. It was only at the last page that I realized it was just a creation of his mind and no inspiration from anybody’s life.

I enjoyed reading the book as much as I enjoyed writing this post. Go for it if you share that special father daughter bond, you will love reading every bit of it. A book to be felt and relished and not just gobbled down…

The kids from Guptakashi, Uttarakhand

I met these lovely kids at Guptakashi, 47km before Kedarnath in April this year. On our way to Guptakashi from Ukhimath, Mr. Hubby spotted these cute kids asking for a lift & asked them to come on board. The brother sister duo were on their way back home from school. While most days they had to cover the 5km distance by foot, during tourist season, they hoped to get lift from the tourist vehicles. The brother, a shy kid kept looking down and smiling every time Mr. Hubby asked his name. The sister was much matured & answered our questions & even guided us about the places to see in Guptakashi.

When they came on board, I was a little surprised since in Delhi, we are taught since childhood not to talk to strangers. And here these were, two little kids braving the hilly terrain, meeting everyone with an open mind. But such is the simplicity of the hills that you don’t get to see anywhere else.

The blog on my April trip is still lying low in the priority list of blogs and I hope to put it up by this weekend. However, as I saw TV channels covering the cruel game of mother nature in Uttarakhand, I was immediately reminded of these kids. We didn’t ask their names, didn’t know where they stayed . But, as I read the horrific account of the Uttarkhand flood, my heart says a silent prayer for these kids – hope wherever they are, they are fine and healthy with their families, with the same smile on their faces and hopes in their hearts – hopes of a better tomorrow.

God Bless

Ring the bell, let the birds fly…

Just like the traffic on the roads, for any girl born and brought up in Delhi, eve teasing is a usual affair. Since childhood, a girl is subjected to some said, some unsaid rules and regulations in exchange for her safety. I still remember how worried my mom was when I joined college just because I had to travel to a secluded part of the city all by myself. Always carry a mobile phone, never venture out alone, prefer going out with a male or in groups, wear non provocative clothes, avoid interaction with strangers in buses, come back home on time….the checklist was too long and irritating to be followed.

But this was almost a decade ago and back then I used to wonder life wouldn't be the same in a couple of years. With women empowerment being a burning issue and India marching towards growth, I expected a better society for the generations to come.

Times have changed and yet they haven’t!

Being a masi to a 14 year old is like having a pet sparrow (mind the comparison but couldn't find anything better to express my feelings!). You love the chirpie song but always dread the sparrow being eaten by the cat. Thinking the sparrow would be safe in the house, you build a comfortable cage in the house. But, is the sparrow happy there? She wants to fly in the sky.  My niece too is a cute little sparrow, wanting to spread her wings and explore the world. She is smart, intelligent, confident and ready to explore the world – the typical woman of the jet age. Loves going for the impossible and hates being confined. It’s a pain when we impose the same decade old restrictions on her. A couple of days back, I asked her to be back before dark as bad elements come out by then to which she snapped and asked me “Masi, in zoo, the ferocious animals are in the cage, not the normal visitors, then why not do something about such elements than unfairly curbing our freedom?” She had a point indeed, yet the practical me had to explain how the real world is different from the stuff we read in books. Poor child never says no to anything I say, but that very moment, a bell rang inside my heart and the heart echoed…

We must be the change we want to see…

The easiest thing in the world is to crib, cry and escape the wrong. However, people who make their own path and stand up against the wrong are the real change agents. The so called “bad elements” spring up from our society, perhaps the guy next door. Cleaning begins from the house. To ring the bell against such elements, we need to go back to the basics and teach every boy around us to respect the mothers, sisters and not take their care for granted. Only then will the society learn that it’s not the attire but the attitude that counts –attitude of the men around us. The bell should ring away the fears till the women in our society can live in peace.

So what are we waiting for

Ring the bell, and let the birds fly…

This post has been written for Ring the bell movement for Indiblogger and www.bellbajao.org/ 

My first Indiblogger Meet

They say birds of a feather flock together. And thanks to Indiblogger, we, the free spirited birds of blogosphere get to flock together quite often at the much awaited Indiblogger meets.  I had been eyeing a blogger meet for quite some time now, having missed the HP Connected music meet. And so when a little birdie dropped a mail in my inbox about the HP Print Art IndiBlogger Meet, my reaction was something like this.

My 1^st meet and the meet encouraged us to bring family members along! Wow, sounded like a dream come true!

So last Saturday, papa, bhai & I reached Fortune Park, Gurgaon for the meet. Not wanting to get late for the 1^st meet, we ended up reaching half an hour early! Papa suggested we wait in the lobby since Mr. Sun was at his sunny best that day. And there in the lobby, I saw many bloggers waiting with their families. I didn’t know anyone of them, but just like you feel so happy to spot Indians when you go abroad, I was all smiles to spot people who shared the same passion as I did.

Finally, Rene asked us all to come in. A quick registration and we made ourselves comfortable. Now I was in a dilemma. I could see all bloggers around me and I was super excited to meet them all. But we all had come with families and it was tough to make out who was the blogger and who the family member! So I decided to play it safe and stick to my table.

But seems Indiblogger knew how to get people talking. The meet began by Rene asking who were the first timers, and soon after groups were assigned tables they had to go to and interact with the bloggers there. The bubbly bunch of galz next to me came to our table and introduced themselves, and the shy me got to know my first set of blogger friends. We soon joined the big table and my apprehensions were soon lost in the peals of laughter!

 I had read in various blogs that at Indiblogger meets, if you are lucky, you win cool stuff just for being there. And I witnessed this at my first meet. Prizes for being the youngest blogger, for picking numbers, for the best tweet, for the blogger who came with his brother! Wow! Indiblogger and HP were being generous! And then began the 30 seconds of fame. Being my first meet, I wasn’t prepared for any introduction. So, for me, this was like the times in school when the teacher popped questions randomly and the shy students prayed not being picked up. But I soon realized that everything in a blogger meet is about fun and knowing bloggers better. So, when a blogger sitting behind me claimed to being a crazy blogger, the Indiblogger team got a bit creative and thus began a small contest of being the craziest blogger in the meet. Few bloggers stood up and justified their craziness, with one blogger confessing that he is such a crazy blogger that he has forgotten many of his blog links. All my inhibitions gone in a minute, I too decided to give it a try and explained my craziness-how my blogging drives most of my decisions, right from holiday destinations to evening hang outs. For me, it was an honest confession but never knew it would win me cool HP speakers. Wow! I was on cloud 9!

But the party had just begun! And how can a party be complete without music, so here we were singing our own versions of Old Mac Donald, the old and young enjoying the chorus! Soon, we had the gentleman from HP who introduced us to a new generation of printers that would transform the whole printing experience at home! And that too in a cost effective way! A Q&A session followed soon after. 

I was appreciating their tagline “technology nurtures creativity”, when Karuna from lulupu.com came on the stage and actually proved it. As she showed us how the new HP InkAdvantage printer could make the school projects a fun and easy to do affair, papa and I remembered how we had to run from piller to post just to get the right picture for my school projects. Thanks to HP, life would be much easier for my kids!

Seems Indi team had decided to keep the event totally action packed. So after Karuna was done with her demonstration, the team divided the crowd in groups of 15 and each group was asked to decorate a table using material provided. But there was a catch, every team was given a theme for the party along with a deadline and some instructions. People completely unknown to each other were working as a team to get the task right! Now this was magic that only Indiblogger could have managed and they did it very well!

I was amazed to see the creative crafty side of the bloggers present in the room. From pirates to mermaids to circus jokers, we had it all in one room! Our team was hoping to win for the most messy team (we even had a funny name to our team ”Zebra ka Debra”), but were spared the torture! The winning team was all smiles and the guy who got the best won himself a printer! Wow, this was cool! The team also announced a contest where the best blog about the  meet could win a HP printer! Wow!

In 2 hours, the crowd in the room had been transformed to a big family, and when it was time for the group pic, bloggers from different walks of life joined hands and echoed “say cheese”, a truly Indiblogger moment!

We soon collected our tees and my brother declared “Now that I have an Indiblogger tee, I too will become a blogger.” And he looked totally inspired!

No party is complete without food, and Indiblogger had ensured there was lot of lip smacking food for the bloggers. Tired after so much of hard work, the bloggers dived for the goodies! I have a sweet tooth and seems the trifle was there just for me, so I indulged myself without inhibitions.

It was time to say goodbye. As we exchanged blog links and numbers, I was wondering that I had walked in with just 2 family members but walked out with so many of them! A family that shared the same passion as I did and a family that embraced first timers with open arms!

As I confessed it was one of the best times I had in the recent past, a blogger friend told me, “now that you’re here, never miss the meets, the fun has just begun!”. And yes, she is so right, the fun has just begun!

Thanks HP & Indiblogger for making my first meet such a memorable experience! Already looking forward to the next meet!

Kitchens of India – perfect choice of wise wives in India

Life is beautiful when you are staying with a mom in law who has decades of culinary wisdom.  Ma loves to cook and perhaps more than that, to serve with love. That’s what all Indian mothers are made of. Mr. Hubby and I, being typical brats leave no stone unturned to exploit her talent whenever we have friends over. Ma too swells with pride at the shower of praises and looks forward to such occasions.

Mr. Hubby’s firang boss Harvey had landed up from the US for the first time, and he was super excited to be in the land of culinary wonders. He had expressed his desire to experience the best of Indian culture in his two week business trip and everyone was at his planning best, since to impress a firang boss meant a ticket to the US!

Thankfully, the opportunity for Mr. Hubby came walking on its own. Harvey had once dived into the awesome aloo paranthas ma had packed for Mr. Hubby’s breakfast and had since declared that he would spend his last evening in India at our home, with authentic Indian home cooked food.

Everything was set-the menu, clothes, décor. The miniatures were shining on their place, the silver cutlery buffed, mirrored cushions on the sofa and my favorite earthen pot with floating diyas in the living room. Wow! I was super excited. The D day was unexpectedly hectic for me, but knowing ma would manage the spread, I was busy finishing work so that I could reach well in time to slip into my leheriya sari and traditional silver jewellery.

But bombshells drop when you least expect them. I was in the middle of that crucial mail when Mr. Hubby called and told me mom in law had to leave as her sister had suddenly taken ill. “I can’t cancel the dinner now, please manage, I know you can”, and he hung up. For a moment, I went blank. I had barely time to finish my mail, reach home and give some last minute touches to the décor, how was I supposed to manage the entire menu in such a short time?

I left office in a jiffy and drove straight to the new grocery store in the market. Nervous and hassled, I was praying for a miracle to save us the embarrassment. And suddenly, I spotted the kitchens of India shelf in the store. Ready to eat, absolutely authentic (I could see my favorite Dal Bukhara) and ITC brand that I could trust, seems God had heard my prayers. I quickly grabbed the necessities and dashed for home and even texted Mr. Hubby to relax as situation was under control.

What could have turned into a disaster eventually turned into a golden opportunity for us, thanks to Kitchens of India. Harvey was disappointed at being unable to meet my mom in law, but soon forgot the disappointment as soon as he began savoring the delicacies.

An authentic Indian spread – Dal Bukhara, Paneer Darbari, Mirch Ka Salan, mint raita, lachcha paranthas, rice along with the perfect Jodhpuri  Moong Dal Halwa left Harvey asking for more. Dim lights and soft santoor music playing in the background were adding to the experience. The smoothness of Dal Bukhara, richness of Paneer Durbari, the perfect Mirch ka Salan followed by the royal moong Dal halwa which made for a perfect ending. Harvey appeared as content as a pampered Nawab of Awadh!

And just to make his experience even more memorable, I gifted him a packet of Jodhpuri Moong Dal Halwa. On being told that he could have the same Halwa in the comfort of his home in USA, he immediately exclaimed “that’s the best gift I take from India!”

Kitchens of India not only saved but made our day. An impressed boss, Harvey was all praises for Mr. Hubby’s perfect Indian wife while I knew who to thank… Kitchens of India – perfect choice of wise wives in India!

This post is written as part of the contest “My weekend party with Gourmet Food” by Kitchens of India, in association with Indiblogger.

Some gyaan from a sick blogger!

As if the weekend blogger meet and lot of weekend home errands weren’t enough to keep me busy, my body decided to do something “in season”. So last evening, I got a heat stroke. Often, I wish to get ill so that I get to take an off. But when it finally happened, I realized one must be careful about one’s wishes.

More than myself, its Mr. Hubby who bears the brunt of my illness. In his words, whenever I get high fever, I make sounds like a little puppy in my sleep (now I seriously doubt that!). But I sure keep him busy with frequent temperature checks. Last night, as my fever crossed 101, I imagined mom by my side. As a kid I used to keep my head in her lap and ask her to gently caress my forehead, and the touch of her magical fingers used to make me feel so relaxed.  Alas, like a non renewable energy source, mom’s love is gone forever with her, and I am my own mom now.

I guess life throws it back to us. We take our moms for granted and make full use of their pampering and care. And then one day, destiny says “role reversal”, and “thud” comes the baggage of responsibilities on our head. No time to stop or relax. I don’t remember when did I ever see mom rest in a fever. And me too, like totally shameless kids did nothing to help/comfort her, perhaps too spoiled by her care. So now life has put me in the same place as my mom. No time to sit or relax or crib and cry. Life is like an unstoppable conveyer belt. It has to go on and be serviced constantly, no matter who does it and how.

Its only when sudden incidents happen that shake us (like illness, loss of a dear one, material loss), that we realize life is beyond the mad rush. And so on the positive side, I was foolishly happy for the fever, for it reaffirmed to me that our health is the most important asset, a job is just “a” job, and our “me time” song needs constant rehearsals in order to be perfected. Things we love to do deserve same time and dedication as the people we love so I spent the afternoon sunk in my bed with my laptop, reading some amazing posts of my new found blogger friends at the blogger meet. Laughed at some while some got me thinking, and some even inspired me!  Wow, now that’s a day well spent and it did indeed lift up my spirits.

Just like in Bhagwat Gita, Lord Krishna says he takes birth whenever sin on earth crosses its limit, similarly the body takes to illness whenever it gets exhausted by the non stop operations.

And now, as if it has read the minds of my bugged readers ready to close the page, my rumbling tummy takes me away (by the way what better can a glass of Glucon D make me write?)…

So, till we meet again in comfort,

Cheers to good health!