Expressions

Project 52 Week #6: tomato peppers and a photo for thursday

2012-02-09T10:09:00.002Z

Well the theme for both the photo challenges is "red" this week - probably because of the month being February. Here it goes for Project 52 and Thursday!

The Bad Dream

2012-02-05T20:30:00.000Z

Last night I had a bad dream,
I woke up low and in a sombre mood,
Relieved that it was merely a dream -
Though cautiously treading,
As if weighing every step
Prepared for, if it ever turns true
I went on, with the daily chores,
Shoving all negative thoughts
Somewhere at the back of the mind
Forcefully. Like putting everything away
In the iron box and locking it tight
Then throwing the only set of keys
In the vast ocean.

Today is the day.
Of taking off
I have to take the plunge,
With the knowledge that
In my dream last night,
I had an epic fall.
Sometimes it is better not knowing
Being given an opportunity
For the very first time.
It is easier to fail.
Or fall.
But I had to go forward.
There was no escape back,
Moving forward was the only way,
Knowing that I would fall -
Or may be standing still.
Until it took every single dream out of me.
So I leaped (in faith?)
I had hoped to fly,
Like the soaring eagle,
Or take off at the very least,
But I couldn't and stumbled instead.
So I fell, just like it was in the dream.
The dream kept hammering
All day.

Something else keeps nagging me, though
(A tiny little voice inside my head)
To do better tonight, in choosing my dreams.

Thursday Challenge: a solitary One

2012-02-02T22:35:00.000Z

Thursday challenge: "one"

Project 52 Week #5: Cherries

2012-02-01T21:27:00.002Z

I stole this photo from my cookery website, to put up for this week's Project 52 post themed RED. But copying from one's own work is kind of allowed, right?

New Dawn

2012-01-26T23:19:00.004Z

Thursday Challenge: "New"

a new dawn, Nijmegen, The Netherlands

Project 52 Week #4: light and shade

2012-01-25T22:58:00.000Z

Another one from the archives: The light dances on the colorful glass sculptured flowers reflecting rainbow shades, The Bellagio, Las Vegas

Masterchef 2012: the heats are done

2012-01-20T20:31:00.001Z

This year's Masterchef has begun. Yesterday I was catching up on the past episodes of the heats, and one thing immediately struck me. It has quite a high standard of cooking right from the beginning. It seems to me getting tougher every year (although it can't get tougher than this, as Torode and Wallace keep reminding us from time to time). The lineup seems formidable, very early to say who will shine, but there are a few favourites. As the coming weeks unfold, I am all excited for the journey. I have always wanted to enter into the contest myself, and who knows may be in a few years' time I will. Until then, it is going to be all about the amazing twists and turns of taste with the participants, the mouthwatering recipes, trying out different combinations of my own, and general basking in the glory of all the food related talk! Epicurious times ahead...

Toys

2012-01-19T14:10:00.000Z

the Toy wagon, Scotland, UK

the land of Toys, Orlando, Florida, USA

***

Entry for Thursday Challenge

Project 52 Week #3: the chopping block

2012-01-18T09:00:00.004Z

I have been slightly off the mark, just getting into the habit of posting a picture a week until now for Project52 (with StudioLakshmi). I have been blatantly overlooking the theme - even weaving poetry at times to make grand excuses. Finally this week the fever has caught on. Here is my slice of the rainbow, from the Curious Homecook's very own kitchen! And while we are at it, the five knives are assigned for bread, cheese, fruits, vegetables and meat. Can you guess which colour is for which?

In search of the rainbow

2012-01-15T18:07:00.008Z

A path as straight as flies the crow,
I set in search of the bright rainbow,
The path ahead bent and circled round,
'Twas no longer straight, I found.
I kept looking for the myriad shades,
To capture forever before it fades,
In the violet light of the early hour,
I reached the brook by the lone indigo flower.
As morning came in a robe so blue,
Where the rainbow was, I had no clue.
I followed a fawn to the lush green slope,
A rainbow by the hills was my only hope.
I gazed in vain at the yellow mustard bloom,
The rainbow hid beyond the clouds of gloom.
I rested for a while under the pithy orange tree,
My magical rainbow so far eluded me.
I retraced my steps back home instead
Dusk painted the sky in crimson red.
On the journey back I had a thought,
What if I was looking where it was not?
I searched for the hues within my heart,
I found that my rainbow had been there from the start!

The Delusional Orator

2012-01-15T15:58:00.003Z

I will not take much of your time.
I aim to be succint. Precise.
Accuracy matters a great deal to me.
I may be infamous for pointing out mistakes
But I am known for my knowledge and skill
And for delivering the articulate speeches
My pivotal role demands great communication skills,
Oh I have that one by the bucketloads.
All rehearsed and ready to attack.
I like debates.
Logical arguments to arrive at the solution.
I am aggresive, motivated.
I can lead the team to victory.
I can climb the ladder, no probs.
I am not afraid to bungee jump either.
I can make them fight,
And they will not even realize who they were fighting for.
That they had an opponent to fight with.
Or a cause to fight for.
I will create your enemy, without you looking,
Then place the rifle on your shoulders.
I am not afraid to fire from there either,
Or to order you to shoot at sight.
I am brave. I am a soldier.
I was once in the longlist of those with a lot of potential.
I am focussed, determined, unfazed.
I still speak my mind.
Though long ago I may have done away with
The language of my heart.

Best of 2011

2012-01-12T21:14:00.000Z

While I was dabbling with my camera to keep up with this amazing Project52 once every wednesday, I thought to myself, why not resume my old connection with Thursday Challenge once more. So here I am, with my best of 2011 (2 photos for the past two weeks). Last year for me was a year of travel. So much so that my dad came up with this brilliant idea that if he ties a thread to my feet while I am on the go, I might end up weaving a fabric. So here are two of my favourite shots, one from Northern Ireland and the other from Balloch, Scotland for best of 2011 spuwithtears thursday!

Dusk at Loch Lomond Shores, Scotland, February 2011

Journey's end, Northern Ireland, July 2011

Project 52 Week #2: the reflection

2012-01-11T22:19:00.001Z

Carrying on with the theme of doors and windows that catch the sunshine, the waterfront reflected on a window of a quayside pub in Cornwall. It was a blissful afternoon...

Part of Project 52 with Studiolakshmi

Freedom

2012-01-07T17:26:00.003Z

[This was written sometime back, I rescued it today from the drafts folder]

All the time I worry
About what lies ahead,
I act with caution in the anticipation
Of being blown up or blown away,
All I do is bother about my appearances,
I try hard to create and maintain my image,
I care what others are thinking.
I revamp my wardrobe,
I redecorate my home,
I invest in assets,
I keep up with the trend.
I don't speak my mind often.
But this is not who I am.
The me in me needs to be set free.

Project 52 Week #1: the door

2012-01-04T13:34:00.000Z

[From the files: the door]

Once as I was walking on the streets of a small Dutch town, this door caught my attention and for no resemblance whatsoever, reminded me of home. It is amazing how so many doors keep opening and closing in our lives, but very few make us feel at home.

Project 52, with Studiolakshmi

2012-01-04T13:33:00.000Z

Last week (last year) I expressed my interest to participate in Project52 initiated by Studiolakshmi with a photograph and some random jottings posted every week.When my blogger friends take up such challenges, I am simply awed by their organisation abilities. I am a dreamer and anything that is bound by rules, like a blog for each alphabet, a photograph every wednesday, or a recipe a day like Julie and Julia is hardly something that has worked for me. Also over the years I have had a reputation of someone who starts things very well but doesn't quite follow it through till the end. Moreover, into my second year of PhD, things are already heating up in the pending pipeline. So I am quite unsure if I will be able to post one photograph every week of 2012, but let me give it a try. There will be other posts, like the usual occasional quips, rants, dreams and travelogue - but do look out for the Project52 tag as well, Here's hoping I see the finishing line on this one. If I do, I have a sneaky feeling it is going to be worth it!

a Christmas handcrafted

2011-12-31T00:47:00.004Z

I was reflecting on my creative pursuits over the last year (while hovering on a friend's blog) and realized that the christmas crafts this year were my most impressive. I liked the fact they were so simple to do and easy to achieve. Here is a collage of a few snapshots ... a bit late in the year for you to get some ideas I know. It is always much later, when the humdrum has died out, with time at hand to reflect at leisure on what went right, and what could go better, that I write.

So, coming back to the topic of my handcrafted decor this Christmas, all I had at hand was some doilies, reels of ribbons, baubles, some unused wrapping paper, some chocolate, some cream, some hazelnuts, a garland from the thrift shop, a few gift tags, cards from last year, old photographs, some pins and some junk jewellery. Turns out all I needed this winter was just that.

Hope all of you had a jolly good Christmas, may the good fortune continue for 2012!

Christmas Roast

2011-12-25T21:21:00.000Z

and all the parapharnelia

Imposing concrete, indomitable spirit

2011-12-16T16:52:00.000Z

Think about something that’s black & white, ... the advertisement for the HP Indiblogger contest read. Now, I live in Scotland and imagining black and white is not at all a difficult thing to do. The grand old, often imposing buildings made of granite or other stones, with roofs of slate appear almost black and white most of the time. Alright, sometimes there are splashes of honey coloured stones - but sepia & grey is about as much colour as one can expect to see around, the setting perfected by on a cloudy wet overcast day. Then during the winter, there is the mist, the frost and the centimeters of snow. So you get the picture. Weather can be pretty bleak in this part of the world and there is concrete to match.

Now then, what was the next step? To imagine it in colour. Again I don't have to try very hard. As it starts drizzling (it always either "starts to drizzle", or "stops drizzling" in this part of the world) - out come the umbrellas - red, blue, polka, all sorts of not only colours but also patterns. Those tiny white flowers with their bright yellow centres peep out from the green grass, bathed in the silver showers and golden sunshine. Even if for a brief window, the grey clouds make way for the clear blue skies.

Only love

2011-12-09T14:29:00.000Z

I give in, I am resilient, I come in peace.
I am ready to give all I can, not as charity
But for my undying love and passion and hope.
Hope that I add to the energy
That encompasses the "good"
I promise, and if you go by records,
I have never broken any,
I promise to deliver, to arise, to hold on,
Even to shake off the dirt and attempt again.
And again.
Like I promised, with undying love.
But not unconditional.
Or not yet as my conditions are layed -
I give in - so there can be no argument.
I accept - to not entertain any conflict.
I come in peace - not war.
Only love.

Homecoming

2011-10-23T19:44:00.006+01:00

When I stepped onto the platform this evening, I thought it was unusually warm for late October in Glasgow. The train had been very busy today, so getting off it on having reached the destination was a bit more than welcome. After I managed to balance the pieces of luggage out of the station, I got onto the first available taxi, and conveyed my address. "Have been to any place nice?", the taxi driver asked.

I said I was returning from my trip to London. "Do you like it there?"

Let's just say being back to Scotland is also a bit more than welcome. At least, here I will not be scrutinized from head to toe for handing in a Clydesdale Bank currency note! I can expect a smile from the person sitting next to me on the train, and a friendly chat from the taxi driver makes it a little bit easier to return to work.

As I rode on the taxi through familiar sights, the city centre, Kelvingrove museum, the west end, I couldn't believe it had only been a year since I moved here. I kept going on about how lively and nice his city was, we found our common interest in trying out new restaurants on the west end and I kept him entertained with my favourite Shetland anecdotes. My very kind taxi driver brought me home, carried the suitcase to the top of the front stairs of my flat and parted with a genuine smile.

The oven is being heated for the bread, the curry hot on the stove, the aroma of the leftover pecan cake from A's birthday yesterday wafts through the air. Though I miss not having him here, coming back home in a city that really grows onto you is a blessing like no other...

No wonder, it felt a bit warmer for October. Must be the kind and friendly warmth of its people!

Prologue

2011-10-16T22:45:00.010+01:00

I don't know about you but it has been quite a while since I visited my own blog. Time has been running by at breakneck speed with 101 chores to be attended to and I had plenty of catching up to do. But now that things are a bit more manageable, I can afford a little while longer on this blog. And while I am here, may I draw your attention to the breakneck speed time flies these days. Take for example this year for me. I had plenty of running around to do, so much so that I don't recall spending ten days at a stretch at any one place this year. No I am not kidding, it has literally been the life of a vagabond, life out of the suitcase, considerable time on the road, rail and air, and looks like the trend is going to continue for the rest of the year.

Is it stressful, hell yes it is! Will it be worth it in the end, I don't know. (Hard work usually is but has it ever been worth all the stress, really?) I have never liked a very fast paced life, I like to savour my morning cuppa and ponder over my thoughts in the evening. All of this has not been possible at all. My exercise regime and meditation practice has had to be reorganised more than once to suit the current lifestyle. And the experience has not been nice - I have been cranky, withdrawn and miserable many times this year. The end of a resolute I am on is far from being near. I don't know if I would ever reach the end at all. Uncertainties are lurking everywhere. But I am just hoping.

Hope. That’s the one thing that keeps me going. Other than that cunning face of my archnemesis, belittling my capability among my peers. The more she whines in my head, the more resolute I become. She did change my life for the better, I have to admit. Though: is it always one instant, one person or one event that truly changes the course of life? Or, is it preordained and that instance in space and time, just a declaration. She and I fell out almost 5 years ago now. But the wound of the insult is still fresh as yesterday. That is what keeps me going: that I have to prove her wrong. That and hope of course.

Proof, everything requires proof these days. Faith, success, passion. Everything except greatness. You don't have to prove greatness. They will realize it in time. But greatness has to be envisioned first.

When the instant spark of imagination connects with will power to believe in it, greatness is born. In this way something great is born each moment at numerous corners of our vast universe. Some of it is acquired – it is but a part of the great process. Rest of it is nurture – years of toil and sometimes lifetimes, results in something ingenious, something spectacular, something magnificent. Then there is the belief that something great can be accomplished. It is the same belief that connected with imagination in the first place - but now, a thousand times stronger, a thousand times more magical.

Magic, that's another thread of the story. Magic is not instantaneous. It takes time to even come up with an idea that could be magical. Then there is relentless effort to make it happen, making mountains of ashes out of molehills of sparks. It takes years, sometime lifetimes to get there, where it is truly magical. A lot has to happen behind the scenes to deliver a miniscule of magic. All in the blink of an eye!

Now blink!. Yes, just like that. Did you see the stars? Everyone sees stars. Everyone usually has a story after that. Mine starts in a small town under the starry skies...

Discovering Northern Ireland

2011-07-05T14:11:00.004+01:00

Official Tourism Website

On our recent first trip to Belfast, Northern Ireland, I was impressed by the eclectic mix of old and modern. It was attractive with a constant undercurrent of wit and wisecracks flowing as freely as the beer. It is somewhere where you can have fun and make fun of others, where you can put up your feet and sit back and even laugh at being laughed at. As pints are emptied, the humour is unbottled. The Irish are warm and welcoming and hilarious and they sure like to talk. You can let go of all your cultural inhibitions and jump into a conversation almost immediately. But you won't be allowed to speak for long, as you will be choking with laughter at their Irishisms when you are not choking with whisky (or both). You will end up cracking up at jokes in between cracking up at jokes.

They have a tendency to see wit and humour even in the gravest of situations and the tremendous quality of laughing at themselves - "you know they brought in a team of experts to blow this building up, well between a handful of Irish men, we could have done it ourselves, that's what we do best". They also have the infallible wit to pass on the blame. When the world pointed at them for the sinking of the Titanic, they came up with - "it takes a Scotsman to design, the Irish to build and an Englishman to sink the Titanic".

When they joke they exaggerate so much that for a moment you would even believe what they are saying, and when you realize you have been tricked you will laugh even if it turns out that the joke is on you. They have a patron saint, Saint Patrick. They also have a patron giant - Finn McCool. And the legend of the giant's causeway is the stupidest yet wittiest anecdote I have come across in a while. They make mountains out of molehills and myths out of those mountains (or glen as they call it there). The land sure nurtures legends as the glen of country Antrim in the shape of a face of a man looking up at the sky inpired Jonathan Swift (who at that time was staying in a cottage called the Lilliput Cottage) to come up with Gulliver and C.S. Lewis sure created Narnia with the image of homeland Ireland in mind.

On the bus back to the Belfast Int'l Airport - I came across the tourism advert that read - "the coast is clear, except for an odd cow" with a picture of a cow on the beach. Funny, yet fitting. After a past of turmoil, Northern Ireland is in regeneration, "catching up with the rest of the UK" as they say. They have seen quite dark days, but I think their ability to joke and laugh at almost any situation has seen them through!

an almost perfect afternoon

2011-06-28T23:24:00.006+01:00

On a sunny saturday (which happens to be a rarity in this part of the world) we happened to be in a small seaside village named Mousehole.

Coincidentally the time was mid-afternoon I think, and tea had become a high priority. As we were idly loitering on the cobblestone paths of the village, looking for some refreshment - I spotted a wayside tea room. It kind of appeared on our path, as if we were destined to step in. Inside it was traditionally laid, and outside there was a perfect setting of white painted furniture to enjoy the Atlantic breeze. We decided to go al fresco and then ordered cream tea.

What appeared on our table was a treat I had been waiting for, it seems, since eternity - my steps may have naturally followed the seagull into the tearoom. I can still smell the freshly baked scones, laden with strawberry jam and Cornish clotted cream. The bright aroma of steaming earl grey was a perfect accompaniment on this bright summer day. We had our fill, and I had the afternoon tea experience of a lifetime.

Afterwards, we walked to the seaside and stood there for a few long minutes in silence. This was it. Life seemed almost perfect. If only it had a pause button....

viral fever

2011-06-27T08:55:00.002+01:00

Sometimes just floating through life is enough. As I sit in my room all wrapped up and covered, to comfort me from the viral attack this morning, my mind ponders on the aspects of my life. On a normal monday morning, I would have been at work by now, after posting a sarchastic or witty comment about Mondays on my facebook status, engrossed deep in how some R code functions. But today is different. It is cloudy outside but atleast it is dry. I am blessed to be looking out on a courtyard garden and not being overlooked by concrete all around me. I have a feeling of floating.

I had once read a sign that read, "Don't just float through life, make waves". Well, I did not have to make waves, it just hit me one after the other (just as waves do), and I kept floating. I travelled far and wide with the waves and soared high on the surf. Sometimes I just threw pebbles out mesmerized how the ripples ensued.

Weak with high dose of the paracetamol, today I don't have the energy to move, with the flow or against it. But I don't need to. I like floating through life, and for today, before the next wave hits, floating is enough...

'Ripples' from an emotional whirlpool

2011-05-30T00:29:00.011+01:00

When I picked up my copy of Ripples (Short Stories by Indian Women Writers) on my journey home, little did I know, how unputdownable it will prove to be (I hope "unputdownable" is a legitimate word). By the time I reached the last story, I had too many feelings I needed to vent. Every story in the book seemed to raise a strong reaction in my mind, and my heart squirmed. I paused to question life with a shudder every time.

Why indeed in a culture that worshipped the Goddess were so many female infants killed at birth? Will countless women always suffer in silence? Are ancient secrets best remained hidden? Will we ever as a nation embrace Pakistan as one of our own? Will our children ever forgive us? Will we ever stop loving them, nevertheless. I did not want to "judge in haste" so I lingered a little longer with every story, trying to find my place, a sort of closure. This is what this book does to you. It makes you pause and think, take note, shudder and smile. It touches you with deep sensitivity. Every story in this collection brings out the bare bones of aspects of suffering and hatred in the society or moments of mishaps from where the pain whirls out of proportion engulfing everything in its path or portrayals of our inner fears, misgivings or guilt. And then it leaves you with a feeling, sometimes more than one, and most certainly a ripple of thoughts to follow...

These simply woven tales from day to day all seemed to make their point. I found them subtle yet sure and succint. They made me shiver sometimes with anger, in retaliation, sometimes with a sad mellowness, once in a while with contentment. The emotions spilled out ripple after ripple, tale by tale. I was taken in into the very depth of this whirlpool of emotions. By the time I was reeling under the consequences of Shivani's fate and revelling in Rhea's happiness, my train had reached its destination. I for one had just experienced something no less than a journey of the mind, heart and soul. I stepped down on the platform, reeling in its subtle power, heavy with emotions, strong with conviction, yet surprisingly light and springy in my step.

Each story is written true to the heart, beautifully compiled and carefully wrapped into something truly special. Highly recommended read for those looking for a book that touches something deep within. These contemporary Indian women writers have done us proud!

those real landmarks

2011-05-19T21:57:00.004+01:00

the stones I wished to visit for as long as I can remember

a truly humbling experience

the breathtaking grandeur

All in a day's work #2

2011-02-20T10:48:00.000Z

Our office admin sent out an email:

Hi

I've had an enquiry from the News of the World, who are looking for some statistical help with data for a ...campaign they are running. They have conducted a survey of ...... but they need some help with the statistical side of this. If you're interested in helping out then please let me know and I'll pass on the details.

Best regards,
J

To this one of the most esteemed faculty replied:

Dear J,

A quotation that N of W should ponder.
From memory it goes like this

'To call the statistician in after the experiment is over may be to do no more than to ask him to perform a post mortem. He may be able to say what the experiment died of'. RA Fisher
:-)

Regards
S

Texture

2011-02-14T22:50:00.000Z

Round Church, Cambridge, England

Photo entry for "Texture" in http://www.spunwithtears.com/thursday.html

a poem inspired by Loch Lomond...

2011-02-14T22:06:00.000Z

Sweeping me off from my untouched dreams
And, taking me on a ride...
Life in its myriad shades and hues
Had spread its wings so wide.

Over the clouds and beyond the hills
By a loch tucked far away,
Where logs get washed down to the shore
And grit and pebbles lay

Where ripple after another one,
Dance with the gentle breeze,
Where ducks and swans in their royal gait,
Glide 'bout as they please

Stepping down Loch Lomond shores
On a sunny afternoon
Gazes locked and hand entwined,
The time flew by so soon...

As I sit with my solitude
Reminiscing yesterday,
My heart escapes from the lonely nest,
And journeys far away.

To a time back then - when lovely dreams
Whispered into my ears
When love like the log that washed ashore,
Wove a tale of joy and tears.

While I sat by the Lomond shores,
For a moment, but ages it seems
In a ripple of time, a wave of breeze
Lost in my untouched dreams!

Loch Lomond

2011-02-13T19:22:00.003Z

One sleepy station Balloch, just three quarter of an hour from Glasgow. A five minute walk from the station, may take you to one of the most breathtaking views on this planet. Highly recommended.

Best of 2010, wishing best for 2011

2011-01-15T22:58:00.002Z

Photo entry @ http://www.spunwithtears.com/thursday.html

Food!

2010-12-17T22:41:00.002Z

This post was submitted to Thursday Photo Challenge, theme: FOOD

I am a day late for this post, coincidentally I was enjoying some great food yesterday myself - braised chestnuts, roast turkey, seared scallops and all, so I thought I'll postpone my post until today. But frankly I have been waiting for this photo challenge forever. Food is my passion, and you can find some tastings here:
http://sites.google.com/site/curioushomecook/
For this challenge here is a selction:

Life Rocks!

2010-12-09T12:16:00.002Z

This post was submitted to Thursday Photo Challenge, theme: CONSTRUCTION

"Constructs and Life", Scottish Highlands, 2009.

His Old Man

2010-12-09T01:14:00.001Z

100th post, and my first short story...

It was early December and the air outside was chilly. There were widespread signs of frost and ice in the meadows visible from the large glass windows but the coach was comfortably heated. Karuna had just logged into the work email using the wifi, as the train slowly pulled into Preston. That's when she heard the announcement. There had been a fatality on the train track just north of Preston, so the train would terminate here. All the passengers going north from here were advised to make alternate arrangements. She quickly switched off her laptop and carefully packed it in the bag. Then she hurriedly folded the adapter away into a side pocket. She picked up the bag and her jacket, got down at the platform and walked towards the exit. A middle aged man wearing the train company's uniform was deputed there. He was advising a group of other stranded passengers how to reach their destination. Karuna waited till the group had moved away, then she approached the man.

"A bus will take the passengers to Oxenholme, that is the nearest station from where the line up north is clear again, if you would like to take the bus, it will arrive shortly at the stop located just outside" He pointed to a flight of stairs that led to the bus terminal.

"I wouldn't like to take the bus, under normal circumstances, that is precisely why I made the train reservation" she thought to herself.

"Will there be another train going up north, once the line is cleared?" she asked him.

"There is one at half past, which may go all the way - if the line is cleared by then" he told her.

She would avoid the bus journey, even if it was only an hour long. There was no guarantee she would make it to Glasgow in time for her four o' clock meeting today, even if she took the bus, she reasoned. Transport in Scotland was quite disruptive due to the heavy snowfall in the highlands. She decided to wait for the next train and take a chance.

Preston was a midway station is the west coast inter city route she frequently travelled on. It was on the outskirts of the Lake District. She had visited the Great Lakes only this summer with Avinash and it was lush and green, very different to the frosty look that it bore now. She found an empty seat at the bottom of the overbridge that connected the platforms, and sat down. About five minutes later, there was a further announcement - the train scheduled to arrive at half past the hour that would go to Glasgow was arriving in platform 5. She saw a group of harried passengers making their way to platform 5. She quickly picked up her laptop bag and followed the group. For once she was glad that she was able to travel light. Last night, Avinash had asked her to pack some leftover food as well. He had meant well, he knew how much she hated cooking only for herself - he wanted her to take away the cooked curries, so that she didn't have to worry much about cooking during the following week that she was in Glasgow. But she had refused - she was adamant not to add any extra baggage during her travel this time. Under the circumstances, she was glad she didn't have a tote bag full of curries to carry around.

She made her way to the platform and waited for the train to arrive. That's when she noticed the man. He was a stout British gentleman in his late sixties standing at about a metre's distance from her. He had quite inconspicuous features, but she noticed that he looked very tensed and was anxiously fidgeting. The train approached and they got up on the same coach. She made her way to an unreserved window seat with a table towards the middle of the coach, and quickly checked that there was an electric socket available. She was inwardly satisfied with the seat that she found, as she would be able to work on her laptop for the rest of her journey. She opened her jacket and shoved it into the rack above the seat and settled down.

She connected the adapter to the socket and turned on the laptop. The man whom she had noticed on the platform came and occupied the seat in front of her. He placed his overnight bag on the seat beside him. He smiled and greeted her, as he sat down. He looked very nervous for some reason. It was quite cold outside but he was sweating.

"Hello" she replied to his greeting, then added: "are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I am fine, thank you." he said but kept on fidgeting.

He then made a phone call from his mobile. Karuna couldn't help but hear his part of the conversation and he was talking quite loudly. "Hello sister" he almost shouted into the device, "It is good that I could reach you as I needed to talk to someone. I am on my way to dad's" His sister must have said something from the other end, as he was listening. He seemed a bit relaxed now.

He continued after the pause - "I am on my way now, my train from London got terminated at Preston, and then I had to take another train. So it looks like I may not be able to take the 3 o clock ferry this evening." He paused again.

"I just hope I will reach there on time. But let's just wait and see, shall we? And hope for the best" Pause.

"Don't worry too much, and I shall keep you informed. Take care, sister. Bye for now." He disconnected the call. Then he looked at Karuna and said "to tell you the truth, I wasn't feeling very fine when you asked me. My dad is in the hospital and the doctors have indicated that it might be his last few hours. Although he has had a great innings, I am still not ready for this. So I was getting very anxious when we were stranded at Preston, thinking I might not make the journey on time."

"Oh I see, I am sorry to hear that." Karuna said. She felt sad for her fellow passenger and thinking perhaps small talk would be helpful to keep his anxiety at bay, she inquired, "How old is he?"

"He will be 95 this Christmas eve" he said emphatically, "that is if he makes it though."

She could hear the pain in his voice as he was speaking about his father's weak condition. She thought it was best to let him speak about his father, she understood that he must be feeling quite emotional.

"He must be frail and weak now, but he was a very energetic man. My parents were farmers and lived in a village in Sussex, that's where my two siblings and I were born and grew up. Then when we flew the nest one after the other, they decided to retire and move to Argyll in Scotland, in an island called Arran. That was almost forty years ago. My mother passed away fifteen years back. But my old man decided to live in the house that they had lived together in for the last twentyfive years of her life."

His made another call, a quick one, this time to his wife. "Catherine, can you please find the contact number of Dr. Miller and let me know. I seem to have forgotten to store it on my mobile. I will need to let him know at some point, that I am arriving today." He took out a sheet of paper from his pocket and jotted down a number. "Oh yes that's even better then - you please let him have my number and ask him to give me a call in case of the eventuality." The way he said these words to his wife only showed that he was now almost certain that "the" eventuality was inevitable.

"We wanted him to be flown to the mainland for the treatment but he has said to his doctor that he doesn't want to leave the island. That's where I am headed to now." He continued to speak as he was storing the doctor's number on his mobile phone. Karuna was patiently listening.

He recounted tales of his childhood, his children and their growing up years, life in Arran, farming patterns in England, old buildings to the current big freeze. Karuna had work to do, but deep down she felt that this man who himself was in his sixties, needed to tell these stories to someone. The way he reached out and cared for his sister during the phone conversation consoling her when she may have been emotional, made him a very protective elder brother. He sounded quite a content and caring man, who had a lovely family of his own now. But today, he was nothing more than an anxious son, desperate to reach his old man before it was too late.

The train had reached Glasgow Central, and all the passengers started getting ready to disembark. It was almost three, so Karuna hurriedly got ready to alight too, remembering that she may reach the office just in time for the meeting. Her co-passenger however was still seated and the least hurried - he would not be able to make it to the ferry at 3:15, so he would take the last one at 6 PM, fingers crossed that it would run despite the adverse weather warning.

"I hope you make it to your ferry on time, and also that he bounces back again and makes it to a 100 atleast - your old man!" Karuna tried to sound as positive and cheerful as possible. She wished him well and he thanked her for her patient listening. His mobile rang again. She picked up her laptop bag and jacket walked towards the coach's exit. She thought she saw from the corner of her eye the name "DR MILLER" flashing on the display screen.

[This story is based on a recent personal experience complemented by a little imaginative plot for the sake of storytelling. I can never find out what happened to my fellow passenger and his old man. I wish them both the very best, wherever they are.]

Shades of Brown

2010-12-02T20:04:00.008Z

This post was submitted to this week's Spunwithtears Thursday Photo Challenge
Theme: BROWN

The colour "brown" seems to rhyme with "frown" until you meet the "old old oak", Las Vegas, 2007

Footprints on the Snow

2010-12-02T19:50:00.002Z

Prologue: It has started snowing heavily here only last weekend. On Monday, we woke up to a white city. Commute to work was slow and quite chaotic. By midweek, commuters got used to the commotion in transport links, and settled into a rather slow but steady workpace. That is, those of us who managed to get to work. For the rest of us, we are coping with flat tyres, car under a huge blob of snow (so much so that "I haven't seen it in 5 days"), train cancellations and the like...

While walking home yesterday I was concentrating on my footsteps so that I don't miss a step and slip. I could see hundreds of footprints on the snow by hundreds of walkers before me - where I kept adding my own. Sometimes I wondered if I should detour a bit and leave some footprints where noone has treaded before. Thus walking on snow, which had now acquired a sandy hue due to the grit, with gritted teeth as I was braving the big freeze and wind chill, I felt quite grateful when I reached home, to the warmth of fresh socks, the heater and the hot mug.

I don't know what trick nature played overnight, but when I stepped out this morning, the whole surrounding had been redecorated as a winter wonderland, somewhat like Narnia. There was no sandy hue from the grit visible anymore and fresh fluffy white snow lay on my path.

The caption of the frontpage photo of the local newspaper today read, "Nature reminds the snowmowers, who the real boss is!". I think, nature just gave me an opportunity by covering yesterday's grit, so that I can make a fresh start at daybreak and create some new sets of footprints...

Epilogue: Some of them have warned me that my sense of wonder for the snow will dissipate when I have stayed in a place like this for long enough, I hope that never happens!

All in a Day's Work # 1

2010-11-30T22:54:00.001Z

Dear All,

there should be tea before the seminar as usual. However, please watch out for further messages- our speaker is travelling ... from Aberdeen, and we all know that the weather conditions there are a little unpredictable. Both speaker and National Rail webpage are optimistic at this stage though, so fingers crossed.

See you,
X

Who wouldn't want to attend such a seminar? :)

Of all the things...

2010-11-28T19:52:00.005Z

Of all the things we left behind in Shetland, I miss my kitchen garden, especially using the harvest fresh from the garden - the most!

I signed up for the DigIn group
And the seeds arrived by post

Seeds arrive from BBC

I sowed them at once and watered hence
And reaped the carrots to roast!

carrot harvest

I watered and gazed and waited and mused
For my tiny crop to grow --

the solitary bean

A bunch of basil, handful of chives
Pull, wash, chop and throw!

hope and the herb garden

Tea buddies and the cuppa!

2010-11-26T21:34:00.012Z

“Tea pot is on, the cups are waiting,

Favorite chairs anticipating,

No matter what I have to do,

My friend there's always time for you”

~ Anonymous

Although I am a "coffee" person, I have been surrounded by tea lovers, always somehow. And I have always drank the beverage more to give company than as a preference. First it was for my mom. She is a tea person and no one else in my family is. But then tea is something which you wouldn't want to have alone by yourself, you see. You have it over chit-chat when lots of friends are around. But what do you do if you crave a cuppa mid afternoon one day. My mother asked her teenage daughter, do you fancy a cup of tea, hon? I was more interested in the snacks that I would get as an accompaniment, so I agreed to give her company. And thus it began.

the cuppa

When I went to the university, most of my friends (SS, SM, KS, CG) would gather in the cafeteria or the hostel canteen after the day's activities, and share the happenings of the day over tea. During winters, we (DR, MM, SP and the gang) would huddle around the tea stall in the campus and try to warm our hands in the warmth of the tiny khullad* with the steaming liquid. Sometimes during examination time, we would even get it delivered to our desks by "chhotu". Projects were discussed, ideas given form and great things planned around the cuppa, those days.

Then I moved to the US, and curiously both my flatmates PC and SV turned out to be tea lovers, as were so many of my friends and colleagues. PC introduced me to the world of green teas (which I now adore) and SV would put on the proverbial kettle as soon as I returned from work. At work, there was an invisible pull to the tea/coffee room at around 11 mid morning where SD, RM and I would quickly exchange daily news. views and wellbeing over our morning tea while taking a few seconds more to stir in the sugar (I think RM would have coffee, but SD would have only tea and nothing but tea - it was like her religion). Then when I returned home, there was another of those tea sessions with friends. Whenever GR would land at my place, I would ask if he wanted to have tea or coffee and he would invariably reply: "coffee is something I can make myself, but making tea is a hassle, so I will have tea please". I don't know if it was really the case, but I am glad he said tea.

As I was moving to the UK, one of my friends SB even threw a hat and high tea themed farewell party as a celebration of the British tradition where I sampled Twinings Lady Grey for the first time and fell in love with tea all over again.

I found many tea lovers in my husband's family, sadly he is not one of them. But when I am home, I gladly join the bandwagon and can relish my tea with my in-laws over chit-chat while he, a man of few words, buries himself in the newspaper/laptop.

I am a coffee person, if you would ask me - who has always had tea in the company of friends and family and cherishes the fond memories that are formed. For me it's the company, the chit-chat and the discussions over tea, that make me fall in love with the beverage, time and again. Now when I go down to the refreshment room every morning, I almost automatically press the button for white coffee, but if you happen to stop by my desk and ask me, "would you join me for tea or coffee?" I would probably make myself a cup of tea!

*Khullad is an earthen cup common in India.

On a Snowy Evening...

2010-11-25T19:38:00.015Z

This post was submitted to Thursday Photo Challenge
Theme: WEATHER

Until a couple of years ago, I had never lived in a place where it snowed. Well - it had snowed in Alabama once while I lived there, but only for a few minutes. So I would always miss the real snowfall. The kind of snowfall that one can gaze at from the window for hours. The kind of snowfall that makes any red and green Christmas white. The kind of snowfall that gives meaning to the phrase "snowed in". Then fate deported me to 60° N. And oh boy, did it snow that year!

A dear friend had said to me once: just listen to the silence of nature when it snows. If I may add: just go outside and lie down on the ground watching the snow fall while listening to its silence. It has been the most surreal experience for me so far.

[Here are some photos from last winter.]

"Warmth", Braewick, Shetland Islands, 2010.

"Solace", The Knab, Shetland Islands, 2010. I like the footprints of children
on the snow in this pic

Snow on the rocks, Braewick, Shetland Islands, 2010.

It is going to snow this weekend...I can't wait!

Ek kavita hai bas!

2010-11-24T21:26:00.008Z

Disclaimer: Hindi is not my first language, so this is an ameteur attempt: please feel free to point out any spelling mistake and/or grammatical errors using the Comments section. I just felt that I will not do justice to the essence of this poem in any language that I can express in - other than hindi.

मेरी पहली कविता

एक दिशा है बस|
रास्ता पता नहीं, सुना है मुश्किल है,
पत्थरों से घिरी और ऊंची चढ़ाई है,
पर किनारे उसके एक बस्ती है --
जहां एक छोटी सी गृहस्थी है;
उसके आँगन में एक दिया जलता है हमेशा
इतनी सी रौशनी है बस|
कहाँ पहुंचना है ना उसकी कोई खबर,
पर चलते जाना है एक राह पकड़ के,
टेढ़ी मेढ़ी गलियों से गुज़र के,
एक रास्ते पर जा कर मिल जाना है --
वहीँ से शुरू होता है आगे का सफ़र,
वक़्त पर पहुँचना है बस|
क्या भरोसा पहुँच पाऊंगी या नहीं?
पर लगता है चलूंगी अंत तक,
बीच में अगर रुकी हूँ तो
मुझ पर तू भरोसा रख;
क्योंकि तेरे भरोसे की --
एक उम्मीद है बस|

The Singing Bird

2010-11-22T23:23:00.003Z

a ballad...

[My first ballad. Some of you may have read parts of this poem, I happen to have composed some parts of it long ago and stack away, while some parts are shared on this blog as separate poems. But in its entirity this is how it reads]

Once upon a time, long long ago,
The princess met a prince.
It seemed just right, a perfect start,
And my ballad began since.

They talked their hearts out into the night
And sometimes early morn,
And in this way sometime down,
Somewhere a wish was born.

Chatter chatter, all day long,
'Bout drop dead gorgeous looks,
Cuisines, curries, life and stories,
Art and about the books.

[She sang]

“My heart does a somersault,
And skips a beat or two,
And quickly hides behind my eyes
The moment they see you.

My eyes pop up in joy and glee
Gladness they can't contain,
They make my head twitch a bit,
And send signals to the brain.

The brain sends the signal back-
To a flushed face in a while
And transforms to two blushing ears
and a sheepish and shy smile.

The smile then takes the golden form
Of Cupid's little dart
I hope they will be aimed next time
Straight into your heart!”

Then opened the chapters of life,
Of priorities and of past,
The witch, the smoke, the other things,
The props, the play, the cast.

The prince was fake, he turned a beast
And locked her in the pit
Lashed her down to the dungeon floor
And did not care a bit

Now she thought - as she sat,
On the cold damp prison floor,
How she wished for the breeze on her face,
Her world beyond that door.

[She cried]

“I cry alone in my dungeon cell
All my strength plummets down
My cry gets lost in the dingy walls
Mossy, dull and brown

I wish I could escape from here
Into my world beyond
I wish I could lie again
On the green grass by the pond

Where the lotus bloom would call my name
And wait for my loving touch
The singing bird has stopped its song
The pain is just so much

I cry my heart out, bang the door
Hoping the lock gives way
I hope for it to open soon
I pray to be free all day”

She dreamt of a knight that early morn,
He stared on, standing there
He stopped by the door, he touched a chord,
And vanished into thin air!

The more she thought, the wiser she got,
And wondered ever since,
How many frogs does the princess kiss
Before she finds her prince?

As years went by, she lost her hope
She lay on the floor quite still
She could not see the prince of her dreams
On his horseback by the hill

He came charging in through the woods
To break walls, he did dare
While she lay quite still on the dungeon floor
Lifeless and unaware

He stood there waiting by the door
In summer’s scalding heat
He stooped a little and touched her hair
And swept her by her feet

He mounted himself on the horse
And perched her by his side
He patted the horse on its back
And prepared for the ride

When she woke up the next dawn
Or a morning years away
She found him standing by her side
On an island’s muddy bay

Rainbow shores of the far away land
Where myriad flowers grew
The grass was green and lotus bloomed
In the warmth of a love she knew

Stranded there for the rest of their lives
Where beasts can never know
She found herself at last in love
A love that could only grow

Mind, the vagabond

2010-11-22T21:36:00.003Z

I lie still, on the shore,
Or perhaps I twitch a little,
Just so you know
That I am here
Wave after another,
Lashing against my feet
Cold and wet
As I lie still, beneath the starry skies
Or perhaps I twitch a little
Just so you know
That I am here
Weaving dreams
Recounting tales after tales
Alive and awake
As I lie still, on the burning sand
Or perhaps I twitch a little
Just so you know
That I am here
Chasing the mirage
Tired and sweaty feet
Not a drop to find
As I lie still, beside the mighty woods
Or perhaps I twitch a little
Just so you know
That I am here
Beneath the fallen leaves
Waiting to rise again
For the opportune time
As I lie still, forever
Or perhaps I twitch a little...

An unfinished story

2010-11-17T19:53:00.007Z

Many of those who know me, or at least (seem to) have an idea, have asked me to take up to writing. Not an occasional blog here and there or composing poems when I have nothing else to do kind of stuff, you see. More serious stuff like writing novels, fulltime. Sitting in a roadside cafe with a laptop, surviving on sandwiches, coffee, and wifi, and nothing but, or may be with a pet dog at my feet kind of serious stuff. You know, that serious. Well I had a go to test if I had it in me, really - as I was quite unsure. I thought I would start with a short story, since that is the kind I love to read, especially those that have unusual endings. The ones that pretend not to say much but have endless possibilities. So I began to write one morning...

The sea outside was roaring, while it was a lot calmer inland. Winter was setting in. It has been slower than Riana anticipated and milder until now. She got up from her desk and opened the window to let some fresh air in. Cool air rushed in and brushed her face as she closed her eyes. It was mid October. Only nine weeks remained until Christmas.

Much later, I found myself still staring out of the window. Tiny drops of water were trickling down the pane, as it was raining outside. The sky beyond the cobblestone house was a peculiar shade of grey. I wondered to myself - what is the best course of action when I hit a dead end - is it to stop? Is it to retrace and choose the other path, is there any point in pushing the wall or blowing it up with dynamite - there is a reason it is called a 'dead' 'end', isn't there? A tunnel however is a different story - there is light at the end of it and sometimes when I emerge from the other end, the view is spectacular. Or so I thought!

Well that was last Christmas I was talking about, you see. I had already hit a wall in my story, from here on it would take some perseverence to climb the wall. But then again, it also has endless possibilities...

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License meaning you can share it alike, and the credit goes to me :)

DU through my parents' eyes

2010-11-13T22:18:00.003Z

My father had never visited Delhi, while I was studying there. I would often complain "you haven't even seen my college/university building" and he would reply "I know how it looks like, red bricks, with rows of pillars". To that I had no reply. It indeed was made of red bricks and had a row of pillars, like many buildings of higher education in India. But I had always wanted him to visit.

When my parents were in Delhi this autumn, my father made it his mission to visit the university area. My mother volunteered as his tour guide. Together they walked around the campus, clicked pictures on the mobile phone (a trick they have recently mastered) and sent me pictures via MMS! Apparently, they took the metro and got down at the "Vishwavidyalaya" station, had lunch at Nirula's (erstwhile "Coffee House"), loitred around the Vivekananda Statue, walked past Arts and Maths Faculty buildings, walked through Hindu College to take the short-cut to KNags (I don't know if they made it to the other end though). They even went to the extent of visiting Meghdoot Hostel and chatting up with Om Prakash bhaiyyaji!

Today, when I called home, they were telling me stories of what's hot and what's not in the DU campus. I was just listening...

PS. Unfortunately, I don't have the photographs online, I will upload them as soon as I can.

Dear Love

2010-11-08T19:33:00.002Z

Dear Love,

It has been so long
Since you sang to me the song,
That my mother sang, to lull me to sleep
Hugged to her heart,
Tight right from the start --
Till I would wander off to the deep...

It has been a while
Since you walked me that mile
Holding my father's hand
As I play on the slide
And gallop and glide
He keeps his watch from the stand

It has been so late
By strange ways of fate
Since you sent me that 'sorry' note
That my friend used to write
After the fight --
So I prized whatever she wrote

It has only been a while
A furlong or a mile?
Since you and I moved away
Do remember to knock
Once in a while on my block
Waiting for you to drop by some day!

My Shetland Sabbatical

2010-10-14T12:19:00.011+01:00

We often postpone what our heart desires, in the hope that there will be a good time for it. That we will be free of the mental clutter and worldly stresses when this or that or our next assignment is over. I was either pursuing a degree or a job or a prospective mate for as long as I can remember. It was a rat race and I was in the running. But, I had always wanted to take some time off from the race and pursue whatever my heart desires for a while. I had been dillydallying with the idea and kept waiting for a correct time for it to happen.

The chance came when I made the choice to move to a remote island in the middle of nowhere (read north sea) a year and half ago. I had never known such a place on earth existed but since it was just after I got married, this whacky (and quite shocking to many) decision to move up here seemed more like an adventure of sorts to me: exploring islands, assimilating cultures, expanding horizons, the feeling of being stranded in an island with the man I love, getting lost amidst nature. And what a year and a half it has been!

The islands, an aerial view

For the first three months I had a triple existence: I was a couch potato by weekday, a homely wife by weeknight and a vagabond on weekends. No I did not watch TV from that couch, I used to incessantly drink tea, read books, gaze at the sea all day and then wait for my husband to come back from work. I would dream of picnicking in little places in nooks and corners of the island - on desolate beaches, rocks, piers, abandoned harbours, solitary benches all day and then by weekend go about making those picnics happen. The walk to the nearby grocery took a walkway by the sea where I could see the seals playing in the water and not surprisingly one of my most favourite wife's chores was to do the weekly grocery. I can safely say, those will be one of the best 3 months' of my life.

On a cooking spree, Shetland, 2010

Then one day, the honeymoon was over. I had a job opportunity to pursue, a left behind life to lament on, a new life to set up and to figure out what I would want to do with this time off. Just in time, I came to know that there was a food festival coming up in a few months. This was an ideal opportunity for me to get involved in the community through food. I learnt about Shetland's local food heritage, met some great chefs, re-discovered Scottish smoked salmon, experimented in my kitchen fusing Shetland's produce with Indian flavours from my larder. This is also when the first seeds of creating Curious Homecook were sown.

It is about the same time that I started growing a green finger - I became the proud owner of a potted garden on the windowsill. It started with herbs and grew into an eleven pot wonder of hanging flowers, marigolds, lettuce, mint, beans and carrots. I joined the BBC Dig In campaign, became an ardent follower of Hugh's River Cottage, introduced myself to local stores to cut on food miles, dumped the gym membership for good and started walking more.

That the library was housed in an old church close to where I lived, was a blessing. Because on rainy days, when walking was uncomfortable (and here there are many) - I would find a warm spot in a cosy corner of the library, sip a hot mug of coffee and lose myself in a good book or two.

Scene from Up-Helly-Aa, a fire festival

celebrating the island's Viking links

The island and its people have been lovely. We had the warmest reception we could imagine from the locals. The islanders are simple people, who greet you with a smile. They may not know your name but they recognize you by your face and wave from a distance if they catch you on the street or the ferry. They stop to ask how you are even when they are in a hurry. They celebrate their centuries old traditions and are proud of their origins. They leave an open fence gate open and close a shut gate behind them when they pass it on the field, leaving the surroundings just as they were before.

In this year and half my lifestyle and the whole outlook on life has turned upside down and reorganized itself. Some of my friends think I have been very fortunate, yes that is true. Some of them have complained that I haven't called them up enough. No I didn't - I have been so engrossed in myself and the world around me. I hope you will not take it to heart. I have completed two cookery courses, launched my own website, dipped my feet in Britain's northernmost beach, walked many miles, worked with local school children, harvested carrots, danced a few steps with complete strangers, got back in touch with poetry, gazed at the night sky in anticipation of seeing northern lights, had many great laughs, made a few good friends. I have also managed to catch up on my reading list in this good life. But the most important of all I have learnt a few lessons by living them. There is never a right time for anything, for one. Or ideas that seem the whackiest at first turn out to be one of the best.

Pujo, this year..

2010-10-11T11:35:00.001+01:00

The much awaited annual festivities of Durga Puja are here again. And with it the anticipation, the enthusiasm and the nostalgia. Amidst the highs and lows and changing tides, these four days every year is like home-coming. Even in distant lands away from home, to keep the flame alive and joining in the festivities brings me that much closer to Maa.

But before I get drawn into the festivities let me remind myself of its true significance. It is a worship of the Goddess, in the glory of 'Shakti' or power. Mythology tells the story of Maa's victory over Mahishasura, the tyrannous demon. Is it not also symbolic of the victory of goodness, or divine power over our inner demons? The true essence I am told is reflected in nature, in autumn's clear blue skies, a carpet of shiuli flowers and the winds blowing over the kaash blades. I feel fortunate that in the world outside my window, it feels so much like such a day today, even if the waft of the shiuli's smell is purely imaginary!

So there is hardly any time left, and all the preparations need to be made - the room where She will stay needs to be cleaned, incense and lamps lit, some food items prepared for her bhog, the songs rehearsed. The beats of the Dhak, the smoke from the Dhuno and my heart's deepest desires, all culminating to the four days of Pujo.

The war inside is raging, with the demons raising their heads every now and then. But there is prayer and hope, that Maa will slay all demons and all will be well. Rejoice!

The coal city, my hometown.

2010-06-21T07:44:00.001+01:00

The coal city. My hometown.
Here I was born.
And stayed on
For eighteen years.
And made lifelong bonds,
Went back to time and again,
Met and married the love of my life.
Small places,
Court More, Mining School, Steel Gate
Big memories,
Baker Bandh to LC Road
Running around,
In the golf ground
Picnics at the bamboo forest,
The local bazaar on the railway tracks,
The snack seller's hut
Smell of the charcoal fire
Waving at the hurried school kids
And their harried folks
The papaya tree loaded with fruits,
Midday sun and neighbour's yard
Crossing a street or walking a few steps
Running into the fella next door
The daily trip, the journey of a lifetime!
Simple joys. Shared sorrows.
Where I grew up as the town grew on me.
With the last ties loose,
As folks are moving on.
It is and forever will be,
The coal city. My hometown.

a reminder

2010-04-10T18:56:00.002+01:00

Sunny saturdays are so rare in this part of the world, that as soon as we woke up today, we knew we had to head out to make most of the gorgeous day. So we rushed through the breakfast, packed some lunch and water, grabbed our camera and stepped out. On our way though we had to drop off the garbage at the recycling plant. As we took the right turn towards the plant, we could see the blue water front of the North Sea, glistening in the sun. Sea gulls swooped down the rocky edges of the coast, and once the car's engine stopped, we could hear the sea waves, the wind and the birds. Once we had dumped the plastic, metal, paper and household waste in their respective designated areas, we continued on our route. We passed through herds of sheep and Shetland ponies in twos and threes grazing in the open farmlands. The road winded through the landscape and we soaked in the views of the lochs and beaches and boats and trawlers.
We wayfared through the sandy tombolo and ran up the farm at St. Ninian's island to catch the breathtaking view. We debated over whether it was an arctic skua we saw, peeped through some rabbit holes, wandered aimlessly with the sheep, wondering from where the bottle came and does it have a message inside. On our way back we stopped at the grocery to pick up some milk - at a distance we could see the harbour seals, lying on the rocks. Being so close to nature has become such a part and parcel of our daily lives here in Shetland, that we often take it for granted. In a few months we may just vanish into the London Underground - but sunny saturdays like today will always remind me of the paradise we called home for some time in our lives.

a very interesting lizard story

2010-04-08T14:55:00.004+01:00

I bumped into this lizard story from Scribd while whiling away my time on the net. Now I don't know how authentic it is but who cares? Miracles do happen for those who believe in them, even if you happen to be a lizard, don't they just?

hope and the herb garden

2010-04-05T22:46:00.002+01:00

After much of coaxing and making believe that one can have a herb garden on the windowsill, even in such harsh weather up north - we sowed the seeds in the pot. As soon as I had done so, I was expecting to see tiny seedlings. All the other plants that we had planted that weekend are lush green, a number of tiny seedlings are peeking out of the soil in the flower pots. But my herbs wouldn't appear. I would plead to the seeds while watering them, to grow fast, but of no avail. There hadn't been a place in the house that has trapped sunlight and I haven't placed the pot in. But it seemed till yesterday that nothing would budge. I can now see 2 heads of chives from where I stand! No signs of the coriander, basil and mint yet, but there is definitely hope.

in sickness and in health

2010-03-09T11:42:00.005Z

"To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often." - Winston Churchill

I am a married working woman, taking a year off and "working from home". My work involves sitting in front of the computer for eight to ten hours a day, when I am not working I am still sitting in front of the computer eight to ten hours a day (playing Farmville mostly).

My gains - 10 kilos in weight, 4 inches in waist in 3 months, I started feeling unhealthy palpitations and BP shooting up (I could actually feel my blood shooting up my spine) all before I was 30.

My inspiration - my next door neighbour - an old lady in her eighties, she walks down to the local grocery and gets milk and the newspaper, returns home at 9 o' clock like clockwork every day without fail (Yes such people do exist even today!)

My strategy - is simple really, start small and maintain it. I can't do a diet programme that doesn't allow you to have chocolates, I hate going to the gym (I love walking though). I love to cook and to eat. So I wondered is it not possible to not go on a special skimmed milk - no butter kind of diet and still remain healthy and in shape? I hooked myself on to the internet for finding simple solutions that are doable in my dictionary. Here is my list, feel free to keep adding your own.

Simple doable changes towards getting in shape and keeping fit:

Don't skip breakfast. Otherwise the body will 'think' you are starving and start storing fat.
Drink a glass of water before and after every meal. This works indirectly as you feel full and eat less :)
Replace tea/coffee with green tea. Cut down the sugar too if possible.
Have your meals at fixed time everyday.
Have your dinner at least 3 hours before lying down in bed for the night.
Exercise at home in the morning before having breakfast. It burns more fat than any other time of the day.
Take the stairs instead of the elevator whenever you can.
Get down from the bus 1 stop before your destination and walk that extra mile.
Dump that 3 o' clock snack bar and have carrots with salsa instead.

I feel a lot better. Just one last wish before I sign off. Please wish and pray that in circa 2060, I am able to walk down to the nearby grocery and fetch my milk and paper every morning.

a hole in the sky

2010-01-05T17:44:00.006Z

A few snapshots of the sky over the North sea captured from Braewick, Lerwick, Shetland.

Find more pictures of Shetland winters here.

At home

2010-01-05T08:40:00.011Z

As the stay draws to a close at our Dhanbad home, the kitchen garden and the lawn flourishes, thanks to Hari Dada and Bishwanath Kaku. The allotment has seen many a vegetable - pumpkin, papaya, cauliflower, mangentout, peas, lady's finger, potato, tomato, onion, spinach, brinjal, chillies. As the saying goes around the colony, our "Panchavati" has everything from Peepal to Pudina - with the exception of probably only banyan and paddy! Anyone who finds any seedling worth growing comes and plants it in the garden! And of course Haridada will not let go without growing some flowers with fancy English names.

[Blooms]

[The papaya tree that fed many a loving soul for a decade]

[Produce from the garden - as local as it can get]

[Chrysanthemums]

[A spinach crop - interspersed with some herbs]

[Harir Bagan, meaning Hari's garden]

The shoe shiner boy

2009-10-08T10:57:00.006+01:00

The shoe shiner boy at the railway crossing -
Is he happy, is he sad,
Is he tortured, is he mad?
He stoops down and in constant motion,
Keeps rubbing those shoes worn by my dad -
Almost worn out now;
What is he thinking?
What is he concentrating on?
Don't tell me, he is just thinking
About shining those shoes.
While his face is hid in his own shadow,
I can see his intense hands,
Polishing, rubbing, polishing, rubbing,
The other shoe now,
Polishing, rubbing.
'It's done Sir, see how shiny it looks'
'Yes my dear boy, here's your fiver,
And an extra coin - be happy!'
No smile on my face or the smiley on my tote bag
can replace the shine of the smile
Of the shoe-shiner lad!

To nature

2009-10-08T08:52:00.012+01:00

O autumn leaf, teach me grace,
The beauty with which you fall
And become my heart's delight.
O floating clouds, fall as rain
In my tender garden, and rise again
To shade me from the scorching sun.
O mountain brook, let me flow
In your crystal spring, fluid
Manoeuvre of the rocks.
O silent trees, make me strong,
Like your resilient stature
Year after year after year.
O ancient woods, assimilate me
Into your depths, where mother
Earth blessed your soil.
O endless sea, allow me
To add a worthwhile drop
In your ocean of waves.
O lovely butterfly, lend me
Your wings, bright blue and yellow
against the grey concrete wall.
O powerful wind - give me your
strength, to endure your storms
And flow as gentle breeze.
In my ever widening quest
For the moondust and more
O Space, grant me such audacities!

Shetland Food Festival 2009

2009-10-04T20:24:00.007+01:00

This was the weekend that Shetland Food Festival 2009 starts and what a great experience it has been! A culmination of the best quality local produce - lamb, pork, beef, potatoes, beetroot, carrots, red cabbage, neeps, leeks and a wide variety of fish and seafood - salmon, smoked mussels, trout, halibut, scallops were found at this weekend's Producers' market at the Clickmin Leisure Centre. Here we tasted some of the best smoked salmon we ever have thanks to Shetland Products, we had coffee from UK's most northerly café - the Café Consulate and sampled tarts and canapés prepared by chefs from UK's most northerly restaurant - the Saxa Vord Resort. There were various demonstrations throughout the two days from master chefs George McIvor, Andrew Wilkie, Shetland own chef Glynn Wright and many local experts.

Following the style of a popular TV programme - Ready Steady Cook, the organizers came up with Ready Steady Shetland with Shetland's local ingredients in the bag in which I had a chance to participate and cook with chefs Andrew Wilkie and George McIvor. With £15 budget I got some Shetland lamb, Shetland black tatties (potatoes), beetroot, some fresh herbs, garlic, lime, a can each of chickpeas and tomatoes for the green team. Chef Andrew created four amazing dishes with my ingredients in a span of 45 minutes - a potato "roastie" with beetroot salad, a chunky soup with lamb and chickpeas, chargrilled lamb with fried potatoes and a lamb steak seasoned with cumin and topped with a tomato and herb raita. It was a very enjoyable session with Paul, the anchor, asking varied questions while I kept peeling potatoes with great speed, friendly battle of words, some great on the spot recipe innovations by the professionals and lots of flavour and fun. The pink kitchen (with chef George McIvor and his Thermomix) had marginally more votes (the word "marginally" being crucial here), but at the end there was no win or loss I think - only learning great techniques and sampling wonderful recipes from the master chefs.

The demonstrations by master chefs and novices were very informative and fun, and the end product was always tasty and of the highest quality. The master class with local chef Glynn Wright and fisherman Dave Parham showcased 11 things you can do with "white fish" pollock in a span of 50 minutes after fisherman Dave showed us how to fillet it. It was simply superb. There was a great participation from a mesmerized Shetland audience and food enthusiasts from eight year olds to eighty had two enjoyable days of pure culinary bliss.

a taste of Spain

2009-09-22T17:42:00.005+01:00

I am a big fan of Spanish food - especially Tapas. So while in Aberdeen, my husband and I tried out La Tasca on Union street. We collected a leaflet of the menu while we stopped by to book a table for the evening. The leaflet advice for newcomers to Tapas was to order 7-8 dishes between a couple - what a great way to sample the varied taste of the platter and share at the same time. The portion sizes are small, the tastes are simple, yet flavourful and refreshing. And to my critical cookaholic's taste-buds, they are easily reconstructible. Fried potatoes with tomato salsa - well how difficult can that be? And serving them up in ethnic vessels to guests seated in wooden benches in a room of exposed brick and stone with dimmed lights (may be hurricane lanterns) does create the feel and essence of age-old and time-tested community sharing through food. Berenjenas fritas was a favourite among both of us, and they were a taste of begun bhaja and of home, only to replace the wafting smell of mustard oil of Bengal by a sharp bite of gorgonzola cheese from Spain! (And interestingly enough the literal translation of both are fried aubergines!) Three hours just passed by, eating, drinking, talking about everything under the sun, mouthfuls of dessert. No roses, no chocolates, yet a perfect dinner date...an evening well spent - and to remember long afterwards...

curry does a full circle

2009-09-15T15:51:00.006+01:00

I love all things food.

I cook often. When I am hungry. When I am not. When I feel like calling a friend over. When I feel the need to create something. Or when I have nothing to do, and limited supplies at home to cook with. It doesn't matter when. My kitchen and the culinary part of my brain are my life's hotspots. I try age-old, tried and tested (tasted!) grandma's recipes, I experiment with French cuisine - naturally I end up in disasters, I learn to manage them, I call maa in the middle of the night to ask her how to make chingri maachher malaikaari.

Growing up in a Bengali (a cultural group from Eastern India) household, I grew up to be passionate about food. Bengal's cuisine presented me with simple home-cooked meals, a variety of spices and herbs and a cultural bond that is nurtured by it's food.

My stay in Delhi, the capital city where I met the rest of India mesmerized me with a diverse palate. Tandoori, Mughlai, Hyderabaadi, Malayali, Punjabi, Maharashtrian, even the fusion "Indian-Chinese" all amalgamated to the symbolic Great Indian Bowl of Curry, Kadhi and Torkari.

My next stop was to be the United States of America - where I got sucked into the comforts of southern food, the New Orleans version of Cajun & Creole, the recipes from the tavern, the Food Network and the wafted aroma of the Mexican platter from across the border creating the Tex-Mex.

All the world's a food festival and my current venue is Shetland Islands - loved by food connoisseurs for its fresh local produce. I am in Great Britain now, savouring the Sunday roasts and enjoying the fish'n'chips. And, as I experience the flavours of its tarts and puddings and pies and pot-roasts, I am delighted to find that "curry" has evolved into a British staple...

A letter to the White Tiger

2009-09-11T18:07:00.006+01:00

Dear Mr. Ashok Sharma,
alias Mr. Balram Halwai,
alias the White Tiger, "urf" Mr. Munna
Bangalore, India

Just when I was thinking whether cynicism could take us from Darkness to Light, that I came across your narrative to Mr Premier (I guess such coincidences happen in land of almost infinite deities and at least 4 great poets, you would understand). I read it and thought that I will have my say on this. Now I do not usually comment on personal issues of persons because it is personal and I am not the person to judge but I considered myself obligated to make a comment in this case(inspired by the way your story took course and as I have my say, you will understand why).

I consider myself somewhat an authority on your narrative's subject for two reasons. First since I was born and brought up in Dhanbad too, and then went to Delhi (such co-incidences happen like I said earlier) - so I feel a connection with your course.
Second, there is another caste in India other than two you highlighted (Darkness and Light), to which I belong and wanted to bring to notice.

First of all - I must say, coming from Darkness you are very bold and also have very good English and narrative style. I am a fan of your crisp writing style. I admire it wholeheartedly.

Now, let me tell you a story of my childhood. When I was a child and would go to some other town in some other state during vacation and I would tell that I am from Dhanbad, my relatives would have one question for me, a 6 year old, "oh you are from Dhanbad, the land of Coal Mafia, are you?" I did not know then what Mafia was - but had only heard stories. My relatives had heard stories too and imaginitive that the public is, they put two and two together to 42 and thought that Dhanbad's roads had Mafia with guns by the dozens. Such is the power of stories, you see. It creates perceptions. So I think stories should be woven responsibly giving the reader a near complete perspective on the subject matter, not a skewed representation of the tail ends of the distribution. Now what Mafia stories did to the image of Dhanbad, I fear, your story will do to the image of India. But that is hardly the whole reality, isn't it Mr Halwai?

Oh yes, and the third kind of caste I mentioned (to which I belong) has many names like you yourself Mr. Halwai. The one which I like the most out of them is Mr. R K Laxman's common man (or woman).

I wonder what Mr Premier (or those who read the book, or a young impressionable mind of a teenager) would make of perceiving India with the combined knowledge of the Prime Minister's handbook and your narrative. I am the common man and I will not call you a social entrepreneur, because I - under no circumstances - and Poirot taught me this - approve of murder, or novels that glorify it and get away with doing so.

Yours faithfully,
The Common Man

Yesterday's retaliation

2009-09-02T17:31:00.002+01:00

Meet me as no stranger dear friend:
For I taught you to flap those wings so today you may fly:
When you scale the mountains and reach beyond the sky
I will still be waving at you
Albeit from a distance then, from behind all that loud cheering crowd.
Tomorrow in your moment of glory
Do recognize me if I pass by..
(In response to SG's poem on FB)

States and statuses

2009-09-02T16:47:00.011+01:00

Status updates are a wonderful way to keep track of of my utterances and -isms. Reading my status updates, you may have gathered that I am a big fan of them! Often lost, sometimes restless and seldom resolute, I define them as:
Lost: Where time doesn't matter and who knows where the mind is?
Restless: Where time stands still and the mind is fleet...
Resolute: where time is priceless and the mind is on terra firma
And then there is statusmessagelessness!

A few of my recent -isms are here:

Cooking is like maths, it has formulas, proportions, permutations and combinations, it needs patience, experience, practice to master and the outcome, if done right, is very satisfying.
[or music for that matter]
(This one was first conceptualized on 17 Aug, 2009, en-chat with GC, restructured later on 27th Aug by self - it has a long chain of interesting comments on FB)

It is uplifting to stumble upon a gem once in a while in piles of usual rubbish.

Twitter - a stochastic '140-character-self' update

I often hear myself saying that I hate transitions, what I need to remember is that today is always going to be a transition from yesterday to tomorrow.

Time always stands still but only in a photograph..
(In response to M's comment on my photoblog)

Yesterday's retaliation:
Meet me as no stranger dear friend:
For I taught you to flap those wings so today you may fly:
When you scale the mountains and reach beyond the sky
I will still be waving at you
Albeit from a distance then, from behind all that loud cheering crowd.
Tomorrow in your moment of glory
Do recognize me if I pass by..
(In response to SG's poem on FB)

Memories, nevertheless...

2009-08-19T08:27:00.009+01:00

I heard the news of a friend passing away this morning. I don't know what to say, Just that...

Life's journey has come to an abrupt end.
All the prayers and sympathies of the world are not enough,
To console those whom you leave behind.
They had dreamt of your bright future,
But today their dreams for you are just memories.
Like the pages of an album they are clutching to
With all their willpower and might
Knowing that a new picture shall never be entered again
Like the palmful of sand
The more they clutch the more it slips.
And when acceptance comes, they are distraught with grief.
That is a harsh reality today.
But their yesterday was glorious.
Now I see those flashes of images...
The recess time and school bells chime,
the red checked skirt, the playground dirt
The gargantuan laughter of giggling girls
The pranks, the jokes, and tango twirls
Gossips, tea and late night outs
The party fits and shopping bouts
The heart to heart on a gloomy day
Friendly chat on an overnight stay
The flashes of images to remember you by
I see your serene smile as I close my eyes,
You are no more, but our friendship never dies...
I fall back on the memories -
of a time bygone, but well spent.
Alas, memories nevertheless!

You will be missed.

Food for thought

2009-08-18T14:42:00.009+01:00

I watched the first episode of Future of Food on BBC yesterday. It made me think really hard. We are facing a problem here. Food security for the future. Not only the quantity of food, but the quality and kind of food. It is the choices we make today that will ensure this security for the future. The trends of today that pose this threat, as covered in the programme were:

1) Water Footprint: When a lettuce is grown in Punjab and imported in the UK, they not only import virtual water, they export drought. That’s a scary proposition. At first my mathematical reasoning prompted me to think that we were counting the same thing twice. But then, I figured. An irresponsible action with double the negative impact can cause a lot more damage.

2) Virtual use of crude oil: All products have a virtual crude oil footprint, and more mechanized it is and farther the distance it travels, the heavier the impact. As a case study – in Cuba, the agriculture was highly mechanized and mostly growing sugar-cane for export when they had cheap oil from the east. But with the collapse of USSR, they were forced to change their lifestyle. Driven by necessity, a household was shown to have just coffee for breakfast, and black beans and rice for lunch and dinner – everyday. Some of them have started farming 20 different crops on the same farmland and resorted to primitive methods of growing food – claiming that the yield is 25 times more and it is a probable solution. But how practical is that? Then and there itself in the programme we the viewers were told – it requires a lot more labour and food prices will be much higher if such methods of cultivation are employed.

3) Climate change: I cannot even fathom the impact it can have on the future of our food. However, the horrific scene from the Kenyan farmer's life was an eye-opener. He had 700 cattle animals and a lush green field a few years back, only 30 odd of the animals remain alive (barely), the land is barren, where heaps of cattle bones lay around.

And to aggreviate it, we are guilty of making the wrong choices, and none of us are free from the problems. One man’s starvation has become another man’s obesity. What is the solution, may I ask you to think? What can we do to contribute that all important drop to the ocean of change?

Growing up with simple means in a small town, I don’t remember having much of processed food at home. A bar of chocolate was an indulgence allowed once in a while. Desserts (home-made most of the time) were occasional privileges or special treats during celebrations. Walking and cycling were a way of life. That simple way of life had a lesson hidden. Here are some small steps I could think of that I can take, individually, as a family member and as a part of the society. Feel free to add your own:

Developing healthy food habits – more of fresh, home cooked meals means less of the processed stuff.

Stop wastage of all forms – recycle whenever possible. Organic compost is a great idea for gardeners. But just to keep in mind that plastic, tin cans, and paper should go into designated bins and not all in the same garbage bag is a big deal for me. But it is a good starting point. Switching off the lights and appliances when not in use is a good habit.

Stop buying and start growing – I want to start with growing my own herbs. If you have the resources, you are entitled to a whole kitchen garden or an orchard at your disposal.

Walk, cycle or use public transport whenever possible. Walking and cycling are great exercises and can be fun activities, and also means of getting to your destination. I started with walking to my local grocery in the weekend and want to try out taking the bus back, instead of a ride back in the car – the bus comes by that way every 10 minutes anyway!

Prefer the locally grown fruits, vegetables, dairy and bakery. They are fresh, diverse, organic, sometimes more cost effective than supermarkets and free of the horrifying notion of exporting drought!

These steps may not always be feasible, but are definitely doable most of the times. I urge you to think before you buy any processed product, to look before you throw anything into the bin, reconsider before stepping into your favourite burger chain. A small tweak in our lifestyles, an informed choice in every decision we take may well be a significant drop in the ocean of change that will become necessary in days to come, to ensure us our food.

...on being sucked into the blackhole of internet...

2009-08-09T17:00:00.004+01:00

What good, if any, is a grandfather's clock?
When time stands still on a writer's blog.
The pen may be mightier than the sword.
What is mightier than the pen, the keyboard?
Google became my all time fave,
With unlimited space and the apps it gave.
On a travel blog and cooking site,
I spent my hours and grew appetite
I tweet, I orkut, I FB, oh the perks
of having a profile on all the networks!
Ah, how do you do? Hope you're keeping fine.
Long time, dear friend, seeya online!

What is on my mindless mind?

2009-08-08T10:03:00.004+01:00

Another collection of Kattykallyisms:

To complicate is simple, simplifying can be complex.

Rhyme with extreme caution or you will end up regretting it!

Why are all problems in font size 48 and their solutions in fine prints?

...we are the seekers of our own Quidditch teams, only our snitches are not all the same...

I tweak the likelihood using apriori information,
And voila springs out the posterior distribution.

I shall never forget the path I took, in my moment of glory.

Is the blog mightier than the pen yet?

I hate equations that do not have close form solutions.

Timeless Poetry

2009-08-04T17:32:00.006+01:00

I see the words from Tagore's timeless poetry on a friend's chat window status, I can't help but let tears drop at the immensity of those words...

"Bohu din dhore, bohu krosh dure,
Bohu byay kori, bohu desh ghure,
Dekhite giyachhi parbotmala, dekhite giyachhi sindhu,
Dekha hoy nai chokkhu meliya,
Ghar hote shudhu dui pa feliya,
Ekti dhaner shisher upore ekti shishir bindu."

How truly awesome and powerful simple thoughts can be.
I try to translate it, I fail miserably, but hopefully worth the try!

I travelled for miles, and wandered for days,
I spent a fortune in many a foreign ways,
Scaling mighty mountains, soaking in the seaview,
But I am yet to walk a couple of strides,
Two steps from my home and open my eyes
To a blade of paddy and on it, a solitary drop of dew!

the "whooshing sound" with what time passes by...

2009-07-30T14:48:00.001+01:00

Shhhhh, shhhhhhhh, whooshhh, hhhee,
Wind and the frothy sea.

Tipp tuppy ting ting tupp
Tin roof and raindrop!

Ssss, ffffuuu, sss, tlot,
Sip, sip, the choc is hot.

Click clang clang tta ttta
Mouse and keyboard chatter.

Wildflowers of Shetland

2009-07-27T22:50:00.002+01:00

Black, White and Sepia

2009-07-21T08:43:00.006+01:00

Howrah Bridge, India

Picadilly, London

Austin, Texas

Jarlshof, Shetland Isles

...on the lost practice of hand writing...

2009-07-17T14:50:00.006+01:00

Today as I "write" most of the "stuff" on the "comp", the last few empty pages of my journal turn yellow as I blog, the praises I used to get from my parents and teachers on my fine handwriting have dwindled, I can only hope to get a letter from someone while the junk-mail piles up,and the room on the riverside with the desk facing the window overlooking the grassy bank is a distant dream.

I got into digital mode, and the pen and paper is somewhere beneath those email printouts. Life is so much simpler this way, or is it really?

11 Years and a few drops of felix felicis.

2009-07-16T11:17:00.004+01:00

Yes, it has truly been that long since I first stepped out of the comforts of "home" in a small coal town of Dhanbad to face the "big, bad world" out there.

When I was homesick coming out all those years ago, my father had once said - "think of the entire world as your home". That helped.

And fortunately the world hasn't been that big and bad, after all. On the contrary, I have come across some amazing people, failed and excelled, learnt to be self reliant and independent, followed my dreams, travelled to a few places, made great friendships, broken more than a few rules, expressed my opinion, started a few endeavours, achieved a few degrees, fallen in love, been reunited with old friends, written to my heart's content, run a marathon, worked for charity, among other things...Though the bad has been intense, the good has been lasting. Though some times have been trying, I have emerged stronger. The positive overshadows the negative.

It is amazing how ordinary things have the power to make life extraordinary and worthwhile! Or have I been plain lucky? Hope that streak in me continues...

My Favourite Colours

2009-07-14T12:04:00.004+01:00

It is not everyday that my mind fancies a new colour. One such was hoovooloo (the super -intelligent shade of blue that painted most of my h2g2 journey). My latest favourite is custard/mustard. Take a look.

Some interesting facts about Sumburgh Head

2009-07-14T10:54:00.005+01:00

The trail...

This coastal trail leads from Jarlshof (ruins of a Viking settlement) to Sumburgh head, the southernmost tip of Shetland's mainland

The sheep...

A few among many grazing all over the island.

The lighthouse...

This lighthouse at Sumburgh Head was designed by RL Stevenson's grandfather, and it is said that the author got ideas for his novels Kidnapped and Treasure Island here!

The puffin(s)...

Colonies of puffins (also known as Tammie norries) migrate to the island and breed here in summer.

London 2009

2009-07-07T18:13:00.013+01:00

After numerous attempts and quite a few flights via Heathrow/Gatwick, I finally emerged into the light of London. And it was a sunny day. Yes I missed the rains, and quite unbelievably my umbrella was of little use in the next few days. Very unlike London.

As soon as I got off the train at King's Cross, my first stop was Platform 9 and 3/4. I had been waiting for this long enough for the detour. I dragged A along and after missing a few brick walls, we could finally see the entrance.

Then we headed straight to the high street - yes, Oxford Street! By instinct, I was reminded of all my shopoholic girl friends. And a cautionary note to them: never go there with your husband. They can't tell a coat from a jacket and they will not understand why you have to try on several pairs of shoes in numerous shops before you buy one pair! You know what I am saying?

Once I had satisfactorily covered the entire length and breadth of the high street, twice over, we headed towards Piccadilly Circus. I could spend the entire evening watching creative ads on the bill board there, and we had a chocolate & tiramisu ice-cream cone each too. It was still crowded at 11 pm and bubbling with energy. Later I realized it was a typical London scene, be it day or night. Some misbehaving lots banterings over beer, a few lost tourists wandering and executives, students and pedestrians of the city walking (almost running) to vanish into the nearest tube station.

Day two and three were mainly for sightseeing. Our second day started at Hyde Park, and then took us to Buckingham Palace to Baker Street to London Eye, walking down the bridge to Westminster Abbey (on the Rose Line, if you are a Dan Brown fan) and then to Trafalgar Square. From Hyde Park we followed the Royal Carriage past Wellington Arch and were in time for the Change of Guards at the Palace and quite unexpectedly the band played Jacko's 'thriller' to pay him tribute. That was a nice touch. At Baker Street, after lingering for a minute or two near Holmes' statue, we headed for my share (and more than his share for it was A's 3rd visit and he has sworn never to go again!) of Madame Tussaud's. I also liked the views of the city from London Eye and the level of energy and activity around it. There were entertainers dressed in interesting costumes dancing, singing, playing tricks and generally merry-making, creating a lively atmosphere.

Next day we visited the St. Paul's Cathedral where we climbed the spiral staircase to the Whispering Gallery known for its excellent acoustics and got lost among the carvings, paintings, sculpture and mosaics, Tower of London where we got a chance to see the Koh-i-noor (now cut into 105.6 carats from 186 and set in Her Majesty's crown), the adjacent tower bridge and then spent the rest of the afternoon in the zoo. That we got lost in Camden Town market was another story altogether!

I couldn't wait for sunday to arrive for then was my long awaited visit to Windsor Castle and a dinner at Gordon Ramsay's Maze! A had been a darling (as always) to have a table booked and I was ecstatic. Unfortunately we couldn't make it beyond the Heathrow tube station that day, but later we agreed it was divine intervention! So we hung around the airport shops, refreshed my memories of Krispy Kreme and Starbucks, discovered some hitches in my links the next morning (which we would remain unaware of had we not lingered on), made some last minute changes for my return and headed back to the hotel. By then my feet had swollen beyond recognition and we were so tired that we weren't even feeling bad we had to cancel dinner at Maze, so we let it go with the promise that we will be back soon, may be just for a gastronomic tour of London!! Or two :)

London is a city of grandeur - classic, rich, aristocratic, lively and very energetic. A city whose streets, buildings and squares, each have a saga - steeped in history and culture. A city from where trains commence to take off to Hogwarts, a city that has seen art, culture and industry evolve through their crests and troughs, a city that has witnessed Roman invasions, World Wars and enjoyed fruits of Imperialism, a city of Shakespeare and Winston Churchill, a city of gardens, palaces, museums, of sculptors, painters and theatre, a city destroyed by the Great Fire, a city that was bombed and recovered, a city gearing up for 2012 Olympics, a city dressed in a fabric woven in a very cosmopolitan thread. A class apart.

And I was content to see glimpses of it all and will be back for more.

Let it shine

2009-07-06T23:20:00.002+01:00

Why do you care what they think,

when you care 'bout it in vain?

Why do you worry what will become

when you can't ease them of their pain?

Why do you cry and want for more,

when less is enough to sustain?

Why do you kill in name of God,

Then stand for human right?

You lurk stealthily in the dark,

Then rejoice in broad daylight!

You shot your brother at his heart

While you were busy winning the fight.

The slogan 'green' is washed away

In climate's changing coast

The world's at war in name of peace,

Bloodshed in every post

It's soldiers few and far between,

Lost in glorious boast.

While you wait for the awakening,

You shout, scream, mourn and whine,

You fear to take a step foward,

Lest you tread and explode the mine,

Time you face the harshest truth,

High time you let it shine!

Pardon the abrupt ending, that was meant to be.

fiery

2009-06-23T11:38:00.000+01:00

2009-06-16T17:25:00.000+01:00

Try this:

fragole con limone e menta

Stranded in an island!

2009-06-09T19:12:00.000+01:00

Of docks and wicks and muddy bays,
Of gorgeous summers and lengthy days.
Of crofts and brochs and peerie towns,
Of Shetland ponies and fiddle sounds.

Of wet and cold and frosty gales,
Of tranquil coastal walking trails.
Of puffin nests and seagulls soar,
Of elusive otters and seals ashore.

Of fishing trawlers and ferrying ships,
Of fried haddock and tattie chips.
Of Shetland fudges among other things,
Stranded in the island and what it brings!

For the readers not familiar to this part of the world, here are some notes:
The name of 'Lerwick', the capital of Shetland is derived from an old Norse word for muddy bay. Shetland has a rich Nordic and Viking history testifying 5000 years. Several words (wick = bay, croft = farm, peerie = small, tattie = potato) are very typical of the islands as is fiddle music. The islands are rich haven for wildlife and puffins, seagulls, otters and seals are just some of them. Fishing as an industry is booming here as the seas are brimming with life. The Shetland ponies are famous all over the world. Fish and chips remain as popular as in rest of Britain.

I am listening...

2009-06-07T20:32:00.000+01:00

That little voice in my heart
is telling me to wait,
That little voice in my head
wants me to budge,
That little voice in my dreams
is driving me mad,
That little voice of my being
nudges me to find,
That little voice from near
is music to my ears,
That little voice from far
inspires me to rise,
That little voice in my soul
saves me from fall,
That little voice in my throat
is quiet, for a change.

The island of Mousa

2009-05-25T09:13:00.000+01:00

Mousa circular walk
Distance: 3km
Difficulty: Easy
Duration: 3hours
Height Gain: 20m
Area Of Shetland: South Mainland
Starting Point: HU 455 244
End Point: HU 455 244
Map: OS Explorer 466: Shetland – Lerwick, Sumburgh and Fair Isle

Yesterday was a gorgeous day in Shetland. So we packed our rugsacks and headed to Mousa. A boat dropped us at the sound of this uninhabited island to collect us 3 hours later. The trail started at a shingle beach, along the coastline. A kilometer later we reached the broch of Mousa. Standing since Iron Age, this structure of assembled stones is now a home to thousands of storm pestrels.

From here, we went a bit astray, exploring the nooks and coves a bit. We snacked sitting on a rock, staring at seagulls gliding below and the glistening blue sea.
The rest of the trail was along lochs and coast, every turn opening a surprise view of the coast. It was a lovely walk amidst farms and ruins, rocks and creeks in an island that bears a stamp of both tide and time.

Shetland's own and only forest

2009-05-25T08:00:00.000+01:00

One striking feature of Shetland's landscape that any visitor will invariably notice is the trees, or rather the lack of them. The islands are devoid of any large trees for the most part. It is due to its harsh weather conditions - cold, corrosive with gales 120 mph on a "normal" wintery day. So a splash of green canopy is almost a luxury here. Kergord near Whiteness, at the bottom of a glacial valley is Shetland's only forest, guarded from wind by mountains carved by ice millenia back.

The Window

2009-05-14T23:01:00.001+01:00

It happened when I was not noticing.
Not even aware,
That something of such great magnitude is taking shape...
It was accompanied by a breath of fresh air.
And left everything around soaked in its freshness!
The morning mist had faded
Into tiny droplets of water...
Sliding by the window.
That was when the window caught my attention...
The window: a visual delight!

First few weeks in the Shetland Islands

2009-04-14T10:45:00.000+01:00

I had never heard of Shetland before. An arhipelago off the coast of north Scotland in the middle of nowhere (North Sea) that is as far from London as it is from the Scandinavian coast!60 degree N 1 degree W. Practically no trees, soil largely made of peat, gales 120 miles per hour, over half a million migratory birds in summer, glacial formations, a super rich coastline - armed with bits of information like these, my husband and I landed at the Sumburgh airport on February 25th, 2009. Landing and taking off from Sumburgh is unique and requires special training for the pilot because the airstrip is surrounded by sea on three sides! When we were preparing for landing, the weather being turbulent, the small aircraft kept shaking. The only comfort was that the locals aboard the flight were simply unaffected by the turbulence - it was normal for them. And then for a moment we felt that we were crashing into the ocean. Thud. So we had landed.

While we made our way down the aircraft through very wobbly stairs, the gales welcomed us. It was still tail of winter months, so it was already dark, and rainy and gusty. We hurried to the taxi, after collecting our extra heavy suitcases, and headed to the B&B. Alder Lodge Guest House was our first residence in the island (we stayed here for 3 days) and was warm and welcoming. The hosts, like everyone else in Shetland we were about to meet, were very friendly and helpful folks. We then moved to a temporary accomodation. This was closer to the sea, and we could see the waves lashing up against the rocks, seagulls soaring over and seals lying on the rocks at the beach - from our kitchen and bedroom windows. That also meant, during gales, the water splashed right at the doorstep. What an experience it was...

The town of Lerwick is the largest in Shetland and it is so large that we can drive around the entire town in just 20 minutes. We had missed the Up-helly-a, so we are looking forward to the next year's. Exploring the island, we drove to Brae, Burra and St. Ninian's isle and tombola. We walked down the pavement along shops of the town centre, we walked the trails of Knab, Sletts and Clickmin loch.

The weather has started getting calmer and sunny now. The days are much longer with daylight till almost 10 in the night. There are carefully manicured tulips and growing by itself wildflowers adorning the lawns and grass. We hear that the puffins have arrived...

Summer is going to be gorgeous here and I can't wait to experience it.

Pujor Dinguli (the days of Durgapuja)

2008-10-07T16:01:00.019+01:00

Today is Maha Ashtami. Year 2008. The sign that Devi Durga has indeed descended to the earth is in the weather. And it is clear. It is the perfect Sharat (Autumn) weather - blue skies, with white clouds gliding. It doesn't matter that I am in the diametrically opposite face of the earth, the essense is here. It makes perfect sense.

I attempt to sketch Maa's face on my white board, I chant mahishashur mardini stotra in the evening, I make plans to visit the Durga Puja mandap in Atlanta, even if that means driving for miles, I receive mahalaya part 1 and part 2 mp3 version as email forwards. I try to recreate the essence.

But then I think, is it really possible to do so? Is it possible to recreate events that start long before the 5 days of puja? The page full advertisement of Bata shoes with the latest puja fashion, the counting of number of new dresses you have and comparing it with your best friends, asking maa to tell the newspaper guy to get us the pujoshonkhya anandamela, on getting the book - reading Paandav Goyenda and Feluda stories first, followed by Arjun and Kakababu, and the comic series and skillfully evading the essays and thus declaring that I have finished reading the whole book, making plans with friends to meet up at a specific mandap at a specific time and manipulating maa-baba’s plans accordingly, taking out the new dresses once almost every day to check on them, saving every bit of the pocket money for those mouth watering phuchkas, getting up at 4 in the morning of the day of mahalayaa listening to the baritone voice of Birendra Krishna Bhadra on Akaashvaani followed by the dance drama on DD Bangla.

Finally after millions of such little anticipations, the day of Shashthi is here. Maa’s face, which was covered for so long, is unwrapped. The chants and hymns infuse life even in a clay idol. The beats of the Dhaak is truly the music of the Gods. The Pandal is gorgeous with its lights and decoration. It is a grand affair for everyone for the next four days! The next morning starts the day’s excitement with the arrival of kola-bou. I always found it an enticing concept. A banana tree dressed up in a yellow saree with red border as a surrogate wife of Lord Ganesha. That’s some mythological story!

Ashtami for me has been the most eventful day of the puja, for years. It has the grandest pushpanjaji, sondhi pujan and arati. The festivities culminate to their peak on Ashtami, it being the midway of the five day long puja. Since there is fasting before the anjali, there is feasting afterwards. Bhog, luchi, bandhakopi, payesh – these words hold an altogether different meaning and spirit on the day of the Ashtami. And the adda with friends is at its peak too. There is never a better time to catch up on the happenings of the town! The baroyari puja mandap is the hub of social gathering and cultural spirit on that evening. Next day, Nabami is for visiting as many pandals as humanly possible and check out their creative and innovative decoration and the protima. And, most importantly to count how many pandals I visited, because I have to exceed my last year’s count and beat my brother’s count too! Dashami as we all know is famous for Bijoya greetings and thakuma's narkel nadu and dida's nimki. As sadness fills the air that Maa will be gone for this year, all of us start counting days to the next year's Pujo!

After all these years, I remember the Puja as one of my fondest memories, and there is no doubt in my mind that I will do so for years to come. Durga Puja back home is an experience of a lifetime, and right now I can give up almost anything to be a part of it all. It is a social and cultural bonding that transcends all literary expressions of the mind. So I will leave it for the heart to relive it again and again….

My home-made tiramisu deserves an entry!

2008-08-30T19:58:00.000+01:00

All these years when I would go to restaurants like Cheesecake Factory, I would end up the fabulous meal by ordering a Tiramisu cheesecake for dessert. And secretly wish, I could make it at home. Then one day (bang in the middle of the work week), I thought enough is enough, let me give it a try. So I did my internet research during lunchtime, and came up with a plan. I decided I will get all the ingredients on my way back home and give it a hand. Afterall how difficult can it be?

Now I had hit upon a very handy website, which filled me in about everything tiramisu, step by step with pictures! A further probe led me to a few substitutes and tips by Chef Mario Batali - the man himself and voila!

Now I can have homemade tiramisu whenever I want to!

Brilliante Weblog 2008!

2008-08-29T18:32:00.005+01:00

A Brillante Weblog 2008 Award in the "wit and -isms" category to Mindless Mind, thanks to Allytude...

And with awards come responsibilities of keeping the chain g(r)o(w)ing. So passing the awards to:

A Bong Mom's Cookbook - for keeping household bong cuisine so alive!
Dipthought - for amazing photographs and the travelogues woven around them...
Confused Mind - could have been nominated for just the web link name (no-url-left), but has not been very regular lately - so could have missed a nomination, had it not been for the sole entry of 2008! The previous ones are hilarious too, though!
Chauhan - for the patience. Despite being a start-up blogger, to actually make an effort to blog about days gone by. I am still trying since the last 8 years!
Surili - for the wideness of spectrum of blog topics.
Hsayit - for speaking her mind.
Soul - for documenting even the most mundane feelings with passion.

An eye for a blog and a blog for an eye?

2008-08-26T22:55:00.006+01:00

If you click here and read what is written under the heading "Now that you are here" you will come across this following statement loaded with allytude (and no I did NOT forget to cross the Ts):
Now that you are here
... you do not have to comment... unless you REALLY have something to say, as opposed to wanting to say something...

This statement seems to catch the eye as it is a classic example of layered contradictions which I would like to bring to the kind notice of the writer, the readers of this blog and that and anyone else who has nothing better to do than read this entry. Hence, this blog. Also by blogging here, I will not be violating the writer's wish (who happens to be a dear ol' friend!) and yet be able to say something although I have nothing to say REALLY, but then I WANT to say it NEVERTHELESS.

First of all...I don't understand how am I going to SAY something in a blog as opposed to WRITE something...
Next, how do you REALLY have something to say in a VIRTUAL space? That too, on a space that is called Real Virtuality. It may be real to perception, but it is virtuality nonetheless, as long as it is called so. Don't you agree?
Further, does "do not comment unless.." also rob our right for other forms of speech and expression like praising,posting, sharing a link, linking this website to other websites,etc.?These are things one usually doesn't always really have to say, but may want to - simply because they are relevant.

The writer is one of my favorites and I read her blogs very ardently. But more often than not, after reading them, I usually have nothing to REALLY say, but always have something I REALLY want rather WISH I could say/write. But I shall honor her wishes over mine. Afterall, I have nothing to say, really! Do I?

The RM sisterhood

2008-08-25T17:58:00.003+01:00

This is the tale of two sisters. Yeah you guessed it right, the RM sisters! Not so long back in time, I had the opportunity to be around these two for quite an extended period. Now, being around them is just not another existential fact. It is always much more than that. It is always charged with a lot of vibes, mostly sisterly bickering and leg-pulling (in their case, it can safely be called hair-pulling) kind of vibes. There is never one boring moment for an observer like me.
Growing up with only other sibling being an elder brother, I was always fascinated by the concept of two sisters. So when I “accidentally” met the RM sisters, I set out to explore. And boy, o boy (or should I exclaim “girl, o girl!”), I was in for a whirlwind.
Now D, the elder of the two, is this demure girl who is very soft-spoken and always smiling. I was just kidding. She is anything but. How I wish (and I am sure J, the younger wouldn’t agree more) she was demure and soft-spoken. She is this anything-but-demure, anything-but-soft-spoken dudette. I didn’t lie about the smiling part though; she is almost always smiling, oops grinning. As I type, I can imagine her grinning face looming large over my head!
Now coming to J, the younger, she is demure, soft-…Alright readers I won’t lie to you again. I will (try to) describe J in one word – super-boisterous-with-a-penchant-for-breaking-rules, or may be super-notorious-with-a-knack-of-irritating-D, or rather super-kid-with-a-halo-of-teenage-maturity. Whichever description the reader chooses for J, there is no doubt she is, or at least was at that time, super (super silly I mean).
These two sisters were always at literal logger-heads. However, one of the few threads that tied these two poles-apart souls together was FM radio. When the zero hour would start, D would invariably start singing in her “mellifluous” voice with Geeta Dutt; and J would say “DD, why don’t you try to sing on Akaashvaani?” At this D would grin (thanks to J – at least she stopped singing) as J would continue “At least I could turn off the radio in that case”. Yes I know it is the age old PJ, but no other description suits their FM solidarity more aptly.
Talking about PJs, I have never been able to decide who I should crown the queen of PJs between the two of them. (So I decided to reserve that title for myself as I did with many other titles.)
Another very significant point of connection between these RM sisters was the broom and the cat. D’s broom and J’s cat that is. The way Surgi, the cat would flee seeing D pointing her broom towards it was a sight of a lifetime. But it’s the chapatti and cat incident that was the most hilarious! Before coming to the story, I can’t help but note D’s chapatti making skills. She was as much as a good cook as she had a good voice for singing. The only saving grace was that we could choose not to be afflicted by her food, unlike the fact that we had no control over the melody reaching our ears and auditory nerves carrying the signal to our brain! That being said and coming back to where we left the chapatti and cat anecdote, D often made her signature world map chapattis every once in a while, which we consumed, for sheer laziness of making them for ourselves. The left over ones (there was always some as supply was always more than demand) went to the “dear” cat. That the cat survived it day after day was a miracle, but J would often complain how uncooked they were and how the cat’s stomach would ache severely after eating them. Hearing this someone said from the kitchen – ask your cat to go and sit in the sun for sometime, the chapatti will get solar-cooked in the stomach!
Much of their sisterly sparks and flares could be felt at the dinner table. Be it J’s description of the painting “The Last Supper” (ek-lambe-se-table-mein-sab-baith-ke-khana kha-rahein-the) making D roll on the floor with laughter or J scrutinizing D’s cooking skills and lamenting about how difficult it would be for D’s then-not-in-the-scene-but-inevitable-future-family to feed on her curries, they were always honing their skills of leg-pulling and bossiness on one another. There was indeed no love lost between them. Now when I hear J tell me that D’s curries actually taste good or D commenting on how mature J has grown up to be, I can’t help but revisit those three years when these two RM sisters rocked my existence. There was never a moment of gloom in the RM household, and if there ever was, one of them would crack the silliest of jokes and the whole room would be filled with the gargantuan laughter of three giggling girls…

PS. Today, D is a happily married teacher-cum-home-maker and J is pursuing her masters in Philosophy. Come to think of it, they will always remain the two of the most special people in my life.

I quote myself...

2008-08-21T19:18:00.009+01:00

It all started with the two burning candles on a mid summer night. A decade later, it deserves to be published. Here are some 'kattykallisms' that happened over time, some adapted, some realized, some with stories behind them - All stacked in the corners of my journal.

****

The best of ones creativity is surfaced in times of crisis.

Reasons can be numerous, but the heart has its reasons which reasons do not understand...

Noise is contaminated music.

Words that are meaningless have more potential for expression.

Yes I do remember that I have met you. It is just the 'where' and the 'when' that I don't remember. And I don't recall your name or face. Is that a problem?

Lack of meaning can be handled, it is incoherence that poses the challenge.

So, I have an idea: an idea that begets inspiration, inspiration that makes miracles happen, miracles that create awe, awe that nurtures reverence, reverence that forms convictions, convictions followed by faith, faith that endures… and, an idea is born!

I want to capture the sound of falling leaves...

One should stop running in circles and reach spiralling inwards and upwards instead.

Daydreaming is not an option. Wishful thinking is.

No I didn't like the concert and I wasn't clapping. When the concert began, my hands were so bored with the performance they started talking among themselves. Now my left hand said something offensive, so my right hand gave it a smack at the palm. So the left hand slapped back, just in time when the audience started clapping.

I do not agree when people say "whatever happens is for good". If that was indeed the case, there would be nothing bad and hence no theory of relativity.

A dream often touches an inmost chord, the chord will break, it's the dream that stays!

I would describe myself as a self-invited talker of sorts.

Every leaf on the tree, every drop in the ocean, every star on a clear night sky, has a story to tell, a song to sing, a life to touch!

I realized my eternal journey a little while ago...

People, who often tell me I am a deep thinker, think too deeply about what I say.

Good times fly on rosy wings, tough times refuse to budge.

Life is like an antique showcase, a delight in itself that often goes unnoticed by what it displays...

I envy that shoe-shiner boy living near the railway crossing. He has the most carefree smile of all.

I don't dance not because I can't dance to save my life, but because I don't want the others' life in jeopardy.

Have you ever come across a paradox,
like a oneliner in two lines?

Most intelligent people are left handed. All others are exceptions.

I feel absolute nothingness and that qualifies as an emotion.

Never mind forgetfulness...what was I saying?

The universe is the penultimate optimization process.

Is crossing the fine line between the genius and the insane unidirectional?

In the universal scheme of things I am nothing; for all other premises, I am everything.

This is how I get around public speaking and stage fright. More often than not, I pretend to be talking and hope people are just pretending to listen too.

Nonsense drives the sense in me.

Mornings are always the best time of the day. Never does the air feel fresher, and the heart happier.

Now at every crossroad I stop, I wait for a while, I recall, I remember, and find myself asking us that one unanswered question: Will these roads ever cross again?

I believe one is as sorrowful as much one can tolerate, struggles as much as one can endure, and is as happy as much as one's heart can contain. It all comes with practice.

Have you ever concentrated to hear the farthest sound you can? Try it, it's fun.

Never impose your ideas, just speak your mind after honest deliberation and leave the rest to nature.

In my growing up years, I often wondered how to distinguish right from wrong. Thankfully, trial and error never occured to me.

I often try to imagine what would happen if light needed a medium to travel and sound could through vaccum. We would sitting be in a pitch dark earth listening to constant cosmic bangs sound-years away!

Science is universal only as long as the universe is scientific.

The universe may be an example of a point as defined in geometry. It has no length, breadth or height. Only existence.

You know that grief is overwhelming, when one starts finding pleasure in the pain.

Mornings, tulips, meadows, chocolate, and my imagination - these are some of my favourite things.

If you focus on distractions, they cease to remain so.

I have often been ridiculed for being on time, but never by people who came before me.

Nothing is as white as grandma's saree.

Present behaviour is always a reflection of past incidents. The big bang must have been barbaric.

Once a teacher, always a student.

Patience is the only virtue that can be acquired through itself.

Absolute truth freezes at zero Kelvin.

There are signs everywhere settling every doubt if you have the vision to perceive.

When in doubt, don't just rely on your eyesight. Smell is a powerful sense. So is touch.

I could never understand one thing about arranged marriages: Is it a notion you develop about the person that fits, or is it the person that fits around a notion you develop.

The concrete focuses, the abstract inspires.

What I say need not always be sensible. Afterall, a huge part of me is nonsense.

Accio markers, paint the sky in hoovooloo, the super intelligent shade of blue, accio stars, sprinkle! garnish with parsley, serve hot with roasted corn cobs!

When I am happy I imagine, when I am sad I write. When I can do neither, I know I am overwhelmed.

By far, my biggest inspiration is nonsense. The moment I try to make sense out of it, the inspiration is gone.

If I can imagine, half the work is done; the other half is effective communication.

A child I am and a child I'll be, a child to adore, the child in me. In years I shall grow like the old peepal tree, but in my heart of hearts, a child I'll be!

It is as important to remain unflinched by rewards as it is necessary to remain undaunted by hardships.

The advantage of being high on life is that you don't have to deal with hangovers, or so you would think.

Fortune often overshadows perseverance in rewards, not realizing that luck wouldn't exist without the sleepless toil.

I like fish so much that if I were one, I would cook and eat myself.

There are three kinds of people in my life: those who I know, those who I don't, and some conglomerations of atoms.

You only get what you deserve - nothing more, nothing less. But the only catch is that you do so in the long run.

Being busy is not an excuse of not keeping in touch. Rather, it is the other way around.

If statistics is like a bag of tools, which one is the swiss army knife?

Of course I know myself. Atleast something about it. I know for certain that I am not sure if I know myself.

When in doubt, do a survey. Even if you get more confused by the end of it, it is fun.

Chopping vegetables is a great anger reliever. After a heated encounter, try imagining the cabbage as your opponent's head.

I don't document my travels. It is a crime.

Why is our image of God that of such a control freak?

Very few things are more rewarding than time well spent.

They say I am lost. When was I found?

My mom says she eats to live, my dad on the contrary maintains that he lives to eat. So I, being their offspring, figured out quite early on that I eat to live to eat.

I am in a state of "statusmessagelessness" today.

I discover writings that create me. I create writings that discover me.

In a big group you start talking about weather only when there is nothing else left to say. Then you move onto global warming, and all of a sudden everyone has something to say.

Some day I shall paint a poem or compose a picture or write a tune on this snapshot of time, but for now I am just happy!

I travel the world over in search of something, which on returning home I find,
It is the search that keeps me going, and roots at home that bind!

‘My being oscillates between the devil and the divine’, thus spoke human pride.

My kitchen and the culinary part of my brain are my life's hotspots.

My clutter is organized chaos.

My clutter is acceptable until I can't figure out where I am.

Blessings are often disguised as the people you encounter.

The Smurfs are little blue people who live in magic mushrooms. Think about it.

Coherent imagination is more powerful than inconsistent reality. Take the case of Harry Potter.

I am doing nothing not because I have nothing to do but because I have too many things to choose from.

Death is the irony of life and vice versa.

Not all emoticons are created equal.

I have discovered a treasure. Nonsense.

More often than not, most of the worries are created in our minds. So a mindless mind is always desirable.

There is a certain category of people who speak gibberish and think it is the wittiest remark of all. They record it down. They brag about it. They start quoting from their own quotes. See, I told you so!

Kattykallisms © 2008 KATHAKALI GHOSH

First steps

2008-08-17T06:22:00.003+01:00

We had Birmingham chapter's kickoff Asha event today (actually yesterday, as it is past 12:00 am now). A pav bhaji and masala chai/coffee selling table at an I-day function. What in the name of Merlin's beard is masala coffee, you may ask. Coffee+tea masala, what else? Well let me tell you it was an instant hit and a great substitute till chai made it to the selling table. Talk about innovation!

Initially though it was looking like there were more volunteers than people actually buying beverages. We would see one known face in the crowd and call out for him/her in unison. Then that fellow had to consume chai/coffee on behalf of his entire family and friends, paying one dollar for every cup and a little more, all for a good cause.

But soon this was about to change. People started flocking towards the pav bhaji stand, children and adults alike. The aroma of the food had begun to spread, so had the knowledge of a Birmingham chapter of Asha. With an ever enthusiastic team and an unstoppable assembly line, plate after another plate started being sold. The entire time people were in that room, I had never seen that table devoid of customers. And there were some who showed genuine interest in Asha and the activities of our chapter. So far so good.

The endeavors were received very well by the people. Everyone seemed to express a certain positive energy which was endearing. Each one who wanted to contribute in anyway came forward. The room seemed to overflow with hope, asha, especially for some of those children back home. But it is not this one event, the challenge of keeping the sustained willingness of people to help intact, lies ahead. As lie many other challenges.

That being said let me come back to the topic of pav bhaji. Even after a profitable sale and very nice comments about the effort, we had about one third of the food stuff left. What do we do with it? Definitely wastage wasn't even an option. So we divided it amongst the volunteers and were just beginning to wrap it up, when by some 'divine' intervention the temple committee agreed to purchase all of it.

What followed has to be seen to be believed. Within minutes, there were a flurry of activities - out came the to-go boxes, 'Bam' went a scoop of bhaji, pavs were buttered, toasted and got popped into the boxes in counts of 4, chopped cilantro and onions made their way into tiny corners, boxes got numbered and DONE. Talk about efficiency...there can't be a better example.

The day couldn't have been spent better. It was a great learning experience for each one of us I am sure. We plan to put this learning to use towards our growth and progress, in our future endeavors. We made some new friends, we met some old ones. The seed has been sowed. It needs the nurture now, which we are all willing to provide with as much time and passion as possible, as we ourselves learn and grow under the banner of Asha.

What a great evening it has been! Personally I feel, the bond with the magic city is a little bit stronger after tonight. I feel like a baby who has taken her first few steps. The entire path and its challenges lie ahead.

A round of applause to Asha - Birmingham and all its volunteers on our first event.

I finally went to Morgantown!

2008-05-28T15:43:00.000+01:00

Memorial day weekend came and went and so did the trip. I had been waiting for this trip for sometime now. In fact, even before we came to this country, S and I had planned for this reunion, only the venue was unknown....till a month ago when we decided, enough is enough! We got to meet now. That's how it happened and I travelled to WV.

S had asked me to get an umbrella and a jacket, cuz it could rain and could be really cold, so I packed an umbrella and a wind-cheater (just-in-case), a jacket and did not take my sunglasses ... well, it never rained an iota, it was rather sunny and sometimes hot! A beautiful weekend nevertheless for outdoors.

Day 1 We visited Cooper's Rock State Park, by a river called Cheat Lake(!) River (It was about 30 minutes drive from M'town). We reached the park, after spotting a deer or two, a lake - yes Cheat lake, and a few million-dollar-mansions. We jumped onto wierdly placed rocks to pose for pictures (can it qualify as 'hiking'?), had barbeque flavored corn chips and diet coke by the overlook (a picnic), walked a small trail and headed back to the city.
Wait, day one is still not over! Anyways the sun goes down at 7 PM there in summers and there is daylight till 9 - so we watched Prince Caspian and Indiana Jones back to back (my jinx of watching a movie in the theatre thus broken), with a lunch break in between (honey chicken). Then we finally returned home, chatting away to glory all the while.

Day 2 After a walk around the WVU campus and downtown, we took the bus to Prickett fort. I had a huge stone structure in mind for a fort, when we reached the site, it seemed like a small wooden structure. Well, welcome to America. It was the site of a fort used to protect local families from native attacks. This structure was reconstructed to mark the actual fort's site. What was interesting though was that people had dressed up in the 18th century costumes and were demonstrating household chores like spinning, weaving, pottery so that the tourists get an idea. There even was a "native" shooter, who demonstated how the rifles were fired. The gallery even staged a wigwam!

It was an ideal break. We did whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted. Bread, butter, jam, eggs and a fruit reminded us of the Meghdoot/PGW breakfast. (Shaa...rdaa....! she did not make me tea even once!) Yes, catching up, reminiscing and remembering gud ol' days was fun. Overall, a perfect way for me to spend a long weekend!

The very nature of life is to go on..

2008-05-20T16:39:00.000+01:00

The waiting for:
Where art thou this insignificant day?
Pray thee, throw some light
As it is the sky is so devoid of glow
That the motley soul craves for thy presence
To keep the nightlamp burning...

The waking up:
The wick is diminishing fast
Like the passage of time
For when the wick is burnt
And I, my own lamp is devoid of light,
Though time will usher me into dawn...

The walking onward:
I take this day and its light
To begin my own journey onwards
While it would immensely please my heart
To step into thy shoes,
Nevertheless, I am committed to some other call

the magic city...

2008-04-04T02:35:00.000+01:00

What is striking about these two photographs is that they are taken one after the other, practically 2 minutes apart. While the crimson orb had just set in the western sky, the eastern horizon was moonlit. [From atop red mountain, birmingham]

Magic of the city...

2008-04-04T02:10:00.000+01:00

I have not gone out much after returning from home. Spring sure is in my step, but pollen is in the air, and I would do good not to go out and sneeze umpteen dozens of time thereafter. But I did not want to avoid that walk around Vulcan's statue during dusk when my friend was here a couple of weeks ago. The city looks gorgeous from atop the red mountain.

I have stayed herein this city for four years now, and I like it here. Birmingham is a charming city, I am gonna miss it when I move away...

I am on my way home

2007-12-03T16:45:00.000Z

I travel the world over in search of something, which on returning home I find,
It is the search that keeps me going, and roots at home that bind!

I am almost on my way home, the packing almost done, waiting for wednesday morning.

guilt trip

2007-11-27T22:41:00.000Z

I claim that I like to travel, however I do not document it - did not until now. I come back from a trip rejuvinated, after a few weeks what remains is yet another album in Picasa or Snapfish, months later they are memories saved in a folder somewhere in MyPictures.
No, it can't go on this way. I feel the need to have a digital scrapbook of my encounters while on the road. I will start with entering this most recent trip - The Grand Canyon...

A grand Hole in Arizona

2007-11-27T22:29:00.000Z

The Grand Canyon is just a hole in Arizona...true - not all holes are created equal!