So, R and I have started to look for a new place. Our current tenancy expires soon and we think we're done with this flat. When we moved here two years ago, we were expecting Pickles soon. It feels like we moved here a lifetime ago. It's the home we brought Pickles to, from the hospital. It's the home which witnessed many of his firsts. For that this place will always remain special.
But still, it's time to move out of comfort zone and look for a place that will offer us the same comfort again. We're now looking for a place which can offer more for Pickles. And us too. It has been exciting but also exhausting. We still haven't found a place yet but hopefully we'll find something that is just perfect and then some. Fingers crossed. I'll keep you posted! :)
Saturday, November 14, 2015
Friday, November 13, 2015
The best cook in the family
I'm going to use one of the BlogHer prompts and blog about the best cook in the family.
This topic really appealed to me because the answer is a no brainer for me. The best cook in the family for years to come would be my 'Mave', my aunt. She is my mother's sister and 'mave' is what we call her.
My earliest memories of mave's house was when we visited Mysore during our summer vacations. Her kitchen was like a magical land for me from which amazing aromas and dishes were produced. Her kitchen was neatly and systematically arranged and there was an order for everything. I remember that she had rows and rows of cylindrical steel and aluminium boxes. Whenever we attacked her with whines of hunger, she would open one of them and dish out some home-made snacks. I used to imagine that all the boxes had special things to eat and I would fantasize about opening one after the other and devouring all the goodies.
The sweets she made were probably the only sweets I have loved since childhood. Even as a grown up, we always looked forward to visiting mave. Going to mave's house meant some amazing meals and she would always welcome us home with great food (our favourite dishes, no less) on the table. I will never forget the puri chole (chickpeas) and shevai for breakfast, which were ready before we woke up and the amazing prawn fried rice and chicken dishes she made for dinner. Or the home made pickles, papads, snacks and cakes. You name it and she made it.
Relishing all the yummy food that she cooked was awesome but watching her in action in the kitchen was really a treat. I remember hanging around her while she cooked. She would shoo me away but I would stick on and watch her cook until the heavenly aromas made it impossible to stay there and stay away from the food. I think she was one of the reasons I got interested in cooking. My mother is a good cook but she is no where as good as mave. Mave was always experimenting with new dishes and was constantly learning with all the cookery shows on TV and from the people around her.
Mave is no more today but her legacy lives on. I guess after her some of us in the family take after her in being decent cooks. My cousin R (her daughter) is a great cook and I am a half-decent cook, even if say so myself. I will always regret not spending enough time with you in the kitchen and learning from you, mave. I miss you in more ways than I ever thought I would.
This topic really appealed to me because the answer is a no brainer for me. The best cook in the family for years to come would be my 'Mave', my aunt. She is my mother's sister and 'mave' is what we call her.
My earliest memories of mave's house was when we visited Mysore during our summer vacations. Her kitchen was like a magical land for me from which amazing aromas and dishes were produced. Her kitchen was neatly and systematically arranged and there was an order for everything. I remember that she had rows and rows of cylindrical steel and aluminium boxes. Whenever we attacked her with whines of hunger, she would open one of them and dish out some home-made snacks. I used to imagine that all the boxes had special things to eat and I would fantasize about opening one after the other and devouring all the goodies.
The sweets she made were probably the only sweets I have loved since childhood. Even as a grown up, we always looked forward to visiting mave. Going to mave's house meant some amazing meals and she would always welcome us home with great food (our favourite dishes, no less) on the table. I will never forget the puri chole (chickpeas) and shevai for breakfast, which were ready before we woke up and the amazing prawn fried rice and chicken dishes she made for dinner. Or the home made pickles, papads, snacks and cakes. You name it and she made it.
Relishing all the yummy food that she cooked was awesome but watching her in action in the kitchen was really a treat. I remember hanging around her while she cooked. She would shoo me away but I would stick on and watch her cook until the heavenly aromas made it impossible to stay there and stay away from the food. I think she was one of the reasons I got interested in cooking. My mother is a good cook but she is no where as good as mave. Mave was always experimenting with new dishes and was constantly learning with all the cookery shows on TV and from the people around her.
Mave is no more today but her legacy lives on. I guess after her some of us in the family take after her in being decent cooks. My cousin R (her daughter) is a great cook and I am a half-decent cook, even if say so myself. I will always regret not spending enough time with you in the kitchen and learning from you, mave. I miss you in more ways than I ever thought I would.
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Friends
Shalini smiled at the picture on the wall. It was the one in which she and Smriti were trying to drive a auto rickshaw, both of them fighting to be on the driver's seat and giggling. They both looked so happy in the photograph. I wonder how Smriti is doing, she thought. It had been seven years since that incident had torn them apart. It had been so silly, she now thought.
They had been the thickest of friends in college and were inseparable. They took the same classes, hung out with the same friends and spent all their spare time together. They even had the same taste and always ended up squabbling over the same clothes when they went shopping. Notorious throughout as the bad bold girls, they had had a very adventurous and memorable time in those college years. Eventually, they had planned to do similar things just so that they could still be together. And then, just before their final exams, they had the fight. It was not even a fight. A misunderstanding of sorts. Smriti discovered that Shalini had applied to another town for a higher degree. Shalini had applied there just for fun and it had just slipped her mind to tell Smriti about it. She didn't even intend to go there. Smriti had been furious when she found out.
It had started with that little incident and suddenly they were not talking to each other anymore. At first it was just ego and then once college ended, they just followed whatever life had in store for each of them. Each expected the other to apologise and seven years had gone by just like that. Shalini had missed Smriti terribly during the last few years. Every time she did something, she would ask herself what Smriti would think of her decision. She had typed out so many emails to Smriti and deleted them before hitting send. She would always stalk her on Facebook through their common friends. She felt happy and proud of her friend whenever she saw Smriti had done something good with her life. Life had gone one, she had made new friends but still, she missed her best friend!
Shalini smiled at the memories of the excursion that they had gone on. They had wanted to travel the world together one day and they had planned to save up for it. Smriti was now travelling the world as a journalist and she saw her pictures frequently. 'I wonder if she ever thinks of me', she thought. The sound of the phone ringing shook her out of her reverie.
" Shalu, I was in town and I just couldn't bring myself to leave without seeing you this time. I've really missed you. Can we please meet? ", said the voice on the other line.
They had been the thickest of friends in college and were inseparable. They took the same classes, hung out with the same friends and spent all their spare time together. They even had the same taste and always ended up squabbling over the same clothes when they went shopping. Notorious throughout as the bad bold girls, they had had a very adventurous and memorable time in those college years. Eventually, they had planned to do similar things just so that they could still be together. And then, just before their final exams, they had the fight. It was not even a fight. A misunderstanding of sorts. Smriti discovered that Shalini had applied to another town for a higher degree. Shalini had applied there just for fun and it had just slipped her mind to tell Smriti about it. She didn't even intend to go there. Smriti had been furious when she found out.
It had started with that little incident and suddenly they were not talking to each other anymore. At first it was just ego and then once college ended, they just followed whatever life had in store for each of them. Each expected the other to apologise and seven years had gone by just like that. Shalini had missed Smriti terribly during the last few years. Every time she did something, she would ask herself what Smriti would think of her decision. She had typed out so many emails to Smriti and deleted them before hitting send. She would always stalk her on Facebook through their common friends. She felt happy and proud of her friend whenever she saw Smriti had done something good with her life. Life had gone one, she had made new friends but still, she missed her best friend!
Shalini smiled at the memories of the excursion that they had gone on. They had wanted to travel the world together one day and they had planned to save up for it. Smriti was now travelling the world as a journalist and she saw her pictures frequently. 'I wonder if she ever thinks of me', she thought. The sound of the phone ringing shook her out of her reverie.
" Shalu, I was in town and I just couldn't bring myself to leave without seeing you this time. I've really missed you. Can we please meet? ", said the voice on the other line.
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Gratitude
Asmi stared blankly at the wall in the principal's office, tears streaming down her face. She was shocked at what the Principal had just told her. How could she have been so blind, she wondered. It had been so glaringly obvious but she had refused to see it all along!
She had always looked for appreciation from her father. She strived hard to be the best at everything, all the time looking for a pat on the shoulder, a congratulatory note or even a kind word from him. But she had never received any. Her father was always so oblivious to her accolades but always had something nasty to say to her if she did badly at anything or made a mistake. Every time he rebuked her, her resolve to do better got stronger. She always thought he reprimanded her only so that she would do better. She believed that he was quietly proud of her. When she found out that she was the disappointing girl child who was born when her father wanted a son, it broke her heart. Asmi had cried for days before she decided she would be the son that her father never had. She had since strived to excel in sports, studies and every extra curricular activity she could take part in.
When she was enrolled into the "big" school, she was proud that her father had finally seen the potential in her. She was now certain that he was secretly proud of her but was too proud to admit it. She continued to do well. Her illusion had just broken now. The Principal had called her into his office to let her know that she had just been chosen for the "best student of the year" award. He had also told her that her mother would be so proud of her. He mentioned in passing about how hard her mother worked to make sure she could pay for her school fees. In that moment it all came to her. It started to make sense now, all the fights that her parents had before she was admitted into this school and how her mother had started to work late, soon after.
She stared at the window and could see her mother approaching, her face suddenly older than her years. In her quest to please her father, she had taken for granted all the love that she got from her mother. She had never stopped for a minute to admire or thank her silent pillar of strength and support.
"I'm sorry, ma", she said as she ran to her mother encompassing her in a hug. "I'm so sorry. In all my efforts to be the son that my father never had, I have failed to be the daughter that you deserve!"
She had always looked for appreciation from her father. She strived hard to be the best at everything, all the time looking for a pat on the shoulder, a congratulatory note or even a kind word from him. But she had never received any. Her father was always so oblivious to her accolades but always had something nasty to say to her if she did badly at anything or made a mistake. Every time he rebuked her, her resolve to do better got stronger. She always thought he reprimanded her only so that she would do better. She believed that he was quietly proud of her. When she found out that she was the disappointing girl child who was born when her father wanted a son, it broke her heart. Asmi had cried for days before she decided she would be the son that her father never had. She had since strived to excel in sports, studies and every extra curricular activity she could take part in.
When she was enrolled into the "big" school, she was proud that her father had finally seen the potential in her. She was now certain that he was secretly proud of her but was too proud to admit it. She continued to do well. Her illusion had just broken now. The Principal had called her into his office to let her know that she had just been chosen for the "best student of the year" award. He had also told her that her mother would be so proud of her. He mentioned in passing about how hard her mother worked to make sure she could pay for her school fees. In that moment it all came to her. It started to make sense now, all the fights that her parents had before she was admitted into this school and how her mother had started to work late, soon after.
She stared at the window and could see her mother approaching, her face suddenly older than her years. In her quest to please her father, she had taken for granted all the love that she got from her mother. She had never stopped for a minute to admire or thank her silent pillar of strength and support.
"I'm sorry, ma", she said as she ran to her mother encompassing her in a hug. "I'm so sorry. In all my efforts to be the son that my father never had, I have failed to be the daughter that you deserve!"
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
Happy Diwali!
As you grow older, a lot of things start to make sense. Maybe its wisdom or just plain experience.
I can now see why my mum used to do a few things when in fact they made no sense to me at all a few years ago. In fact I find myself doing those things too.
One of such things is celebrating festivals and following customs. Although I don't still follow customs that don't make sense to me, I'm starting to rediscover some traditions. And all this is so that I can give Pickles some sense of belonging and understanding of where he comes from. And memories too, just like pleasant ones I have of my childhood. We had a great Diwali, complete with lots of lights, sweets and customs with friends and family. I hope you had a good one too.
I can now see why my mum used to do a few things when in fact they made no sense to me at all a few years ago. In fact I find myself doing those things too.
One of such things is celebrating festivals and following customs. Although I don't still follow customs that don't make sense to me, I'm starting to rediscover some traditions. And all this is so that I can give Pickles some sense of belonging and understanding of where he comes from. And memories too, just like pleasant ones I have of my childhood. We had a great Diwali, complete with lots of lights, sweets and customs with friends and family. I hope you had a good one too.
Monday, November 9, 2015
Oh my sleeping child
After another endless tiring day,
of things gone awry every step of the way,
when I lay my weary head down
and look at your serene face beside mine,
I find my peace.
You make me want to believe
that tomorrow will be better.
All will be well,
as long as I can see you tomorrow,
and hold your little hand in mine,
I'll battle the world all over again.
of things gone awry every step of the way,
when I lay my weary head down
and look at your serene face beside mine,
I find my peace.
You make me want to believe
that tomorrow will be better.
All will be well,
as long as I can see you tomorrow,
and hold your little hand in mine,
I'll battle the world all over again.
Sunday, November 8, 2015
And Sunday is over just like that
Its 11pm and I have no idea what my post for today is going to be about. At least the Sundays were off during the April challenge! This is proving to be harder than I thought. Today's post is going to be super random. I'll have to put in a bit more to make sure this doesn't happen again tomorrow!
Friday:
At work, think about the weekend and smile, think TGIF, work, plan for things to do during the weekend, work, have lunch, talk about plans for the weekend, work, smile again, TGIF, procrastinate a little bit, slack a little, finish all correspondences, indulge in a quick drink with friends before you head home, do all the usual weekday night routines, plan to watch a movie after Pickles goes to bed, doze off with Pickles, wake up and look at clock, too late to do anything else, plan to wake up for a run in the morning, just go back to sleep.
Saturday:
Wake up late, feel guilty, make breakfast, play with Pickles, on no it's lunchtime, do chores, bake a little, chores, shop for the week, plan to watch a movie, doze off 10 minutes into the movie.
Sunday:
Wake up feeling lazy, play with Pickles and whooooooooooosh...it's Sunday night already!
Where the hell did my weekend go?
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