Showing posts with label Random. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Random. Show all posts

3 Pashas

I don't drive to work. I have a car and I have 3 valid excuses for not driving. No, don't get me started. And, I hate the claustrophobic buses. I also hate most of the commercial sedans and the few smelly hatchbacks that offer attractive deals. I hate ACs in vehicles. I totally love the unsafe autos. Ok, don't get me started on why UNSAFE, then WHY unsafe.

Ola-ed an auto on Rakshabandhan to meet a friend over coffee. That Saturday all our North Indian brethren on Sarjapur Road decided to lunch out and have some fun midtown. Well,imagine the traffic bottleneck on this stretch. Idreez Pasha, the Ola man of the hour asked me if there was an another route other than Sarjapur Road. Conversation was bound to happen. He was very brief and direct. He is from Kolar, earns honestly and goes home to his wife and kids every alternate week. No lodgings in Bangalore - his auto is his home. I thought I'd hire him to ferry me to work everyday. He also offered to show me Kolar whenever we intended to do a trip there. I didn't have the heart to keep him away from his wife and kids every alternate week that he went home.I decided against hiring him.

The same afternoon post coffee and some shopping, I was looking for an auto. This time it was Chand Pasha. He is a fancy creature with a big joint family. He wanted to earn an extra 20 bucks. I reprimanded him not to beg and haggle like this. I told him that customers would give you 'dua' and more than 20 bucks if your 'neeyat' is clean. He kept insisting he is a good guy and I kept telling him he must be!I told him I'd rather lose some 50 bucks but never see a dishonest person's face ever. Incidentally, I found him at the auto-stand the next day and he dropped me to work and he owed me 20 bucks which he assured me can be sorted in my return trip if he was around and that he was going to ferry me to work everyday. I gave him a courtesy call in the evening to check if he was around, he was not. The next day, his phone was switched off. His 'neeyat' was to earn 20 bucks more!

Honesty does not have a religion. Truly. The other day, my colleague and I flagged an auto home. He dropped off my colleague mid-way and we were homeward bound. The display credentials intrigued me. He was also a Pasha and he had an honest meter. I didn't strike any conversation with him, I was just a passing listener to his one random phone conversation. He spoke his Hindi with a highland accent.I was convinced he is from Kashmir. So out of curiosity, as I was paying the meter fare, I asked him where he was from. He said he was not from Bangalore. Further probing, and he said, he came to Bangalore 25 years ago from Kashmir.

Some auto experiences in Bangalore.

Love Thy Neighbour

When i was growing up, there came a point in time when i wished there was no neighbour around me - they were so pesky and annoying. Their current affairs was so up-to-date - what rank you got, what food you ate, how thick and healthy was your hair on the head,how many new dresses and pairs of shoes you had, which guy you were seen with and yada-yada. They also resorted to amusing tactics of isolating you out if you didn't accept their seniority and supremacy- they will steal your plants, break your planters or steal clips from the clothes-line and the occasional but cowardly pelting of stones and breaking of windows..Mind you, this has nothing to do with what culture they belong to or their economic standards.Whatever the case, neighbours were the least important in my scheme of things.I preferred friends and family.

And when you settle away from home in a new city, your roomies and colleagues at work who become friends become your lifeline. You have similar fears and strengths before going your own ways. The occasional filtering also happens when you realise a certain roomie and his/her priorities don't gel with yours and you have a choice of letting go, nastily or gracefully. There will be moments when you will feel betrayed,cheated and disgusted - the sense of closure is nowhere. There are no neighbours to run to - you run out of something, or you're in the middle of a mess - you turn to your roomie/friend/colleague to bail you out! They are your actual neighbours within a house or system, if you may. There is clearly no marked space.

When i moved to the US after our wedding, we were in a nice gated community, half of whose occupants i never saw or met.In such a lovely neighbourhood, making friends is tough.I made friends at the bank, the library and the bakery-cum-bistro down Castro Street. Most true-blue Americans that i've come across will work Mon-Fri - work defines their identity. Small talk happens over a drink on a Friday evening and mostly before 9pm. Weekends are fiercely guarded to catch up on sleep, bicycling, trekking in one of the national parks or as mundane as picking up groceries or mall-hopping. Even pot-luck lunches are so timed!Yes, you do say the clipped 'Hi there!' when you're at the pool or taking a walk down the park. But there are no conversations beyond that. I stopped feeling strange - in the US, time is a huge premium.Oh yes, you do have plenty of friends but they live miles away.

Back in India, we lived in a bungalow where you had no choice of a neighbour but your landlord. However well-meaning and sincere our efforts, the visits were formal and the exchange of pleasantries, few and far between. No fret. We had neighbours but the insulated kinds.So, friends were the saviours again.

Here in the new city, we have neighbours within inches and meters. The first day, when we moved in and were monitoring the movers and packers with the unpacking, our next-door neighbour was walking to the lift for her dental appointment. They knocked our door in the evening - offered us potable water for the kid's milk and also, asked us to look them up for any help. That was really sweet! I tried to hide my cynicism - i am usually the cynical types.The next day, i knocked for old newspapers to line the shelves.

Within days, her 4-year old daughter and our son have become best buddies - he eats half his meals there and we have stopped keeping track of whose toys and slippers are lying in which house.It's a new feeling - i actually have a neighbour! I told my husband - hey, we actually have a neighbour who talks and keeps tab about your well-being. They helped us with practically everything - milk, newspaper, bottled water, maids, cooks, car-cleaning, internet, phone - you name it. Both the husband and the wife are thorough responsible professionals at a very reputed MNC. Their daughter is sent to daycare after school. So the kids get to play only after 6 or 7 in the evening for an hour but it's the most awaited ritual in the whole day. And, we, mothers, laugh our stresses away over a cup of tea.

We've shared meals and every festival until now is incomplete if we have not sent a home-made sweetdish across.I have gone out shopping and felt a soul-connect while bargaining deals or choosing an outfit.She's become a good friend, more than a neighbour - we do complain to each other about our respective husband's pet peeves over food or socks and stand by each other in sickness too. 

They didn't get a chance to bond with the previous tenant for whatever reasons - apparently, both the husband and the wife were working professionals. But i would not take that as the reason, working people are not that bad and stay-at-home moms are not that boring.

But yeah, a good neighbour is a blessing. When i will be away, they volunteered to look after my plants. They are already sad they won't see Arjun for such a long time. We had a lovely dinner last evening - a happy send-off for me!

Touchwood!

Of maids and cooks - Part 2

Within a week of Kavitha assuming duties in my house, i asked her to keep an eye for a decent cook. She got Savitha - a shrewd Kannada girl from Mysore, who minced no words about how much premium she commanded in terms of time and money. She refused to come at my preferred timing and the yada-yada. I had little to no options - our little community of families had grown up kids and working mothers - so all the other cooks are engaged. Kavitha also gently cautioned me that Savitha has a history of not lasting beyond a month. I kept a brave face and told myself, if Savitha does not get along with me, she possibly won't find a better employer. Savitha is technically a great cook but will not do anything on her own - she will cook as instructed, she is also lightning fast No, you can't engage in any small talk with her - she finds that micro-management and she gets nervous.But within a week, she started nosing around Kavitha if yours truly will gift her anything for Onam. Heck, what? I just gave her new bangles and sweets for Ganesh Chaturthi.And within a week, she bunked work without informing me. A week later, she wanted leave for 3 days - i didn't ask her why but i green-signalled. She didn't show up for an entire week - no calls, no SMS. I made up my mind to let her go. I put pressure on Kavitha to ask her dear friend to get in touch with me.

I don't know how these conversations happen but Savitha showed up that very evening, dressed in jeans and a smart kurta. She said, she was ready to cook. Something in her tone put me off so badly that i asked her if she was really interested in carrying on in my house. She bluntly blurted out, it was my choice and she is ok with any decision i take. I told her i don't want to eat food cooked in such a grudging manner and that she may come settle her dues immediately the next day. She, of course, went and fought with Kavitha, who in turn was very scared that i might fire her as well  for getting an inefficient person. I told her to relax and to redeem herself, i asked her to get another cook and that's how Bhagyalakshmi happened.

Bhagyalakshmi is a Mudalair Tamil, about 35 years old with 3 grown-up sons. Yes, she also married very young. She has a penchant for 'designer' blouses, speaks broken Hindi and is a very loving person.She's very invested about what she wants to feed you with, loves a little extra salt in all her preparations. So, everyday, she has a nervous time passing the 'salt' test with me. She is very forgetful to a fault and can't fry potatoes to save her life.But, Arjun likes her and they have a fun-session everyday counting granules of pomegranates and she sings to him.But she feeds our entire family and feels rewarded. '

And life goes on.

Of maids and cooks - part 1

I've been meaning to write about these two people who i am very grateful to for embracing me in this new city with all my pet peeves and all that baggage. To the rest of the world, they are not even visible. One is my help - Kavitha and the other is my cook - Bhagyalakhsmi. Both are migrants and not locals. Not like, i had difficulty getting anyone here - instinctively, the frequency should match.

I waited out a month or so, waiting for the reasonable one to come along. I had to endure door-rings, desperate pleas to be hired and all the heart-wrenching games that follow. There were some interesting ones that came along. One of them was an elderly but very street smart woman by the name Salma. She had betel-nut stained teeth and of course, very calloused lips - she walked up to my door and with almost certain divine birthright asked me to 'retain' her as the cook - i usually have a very intense interview with every prospective case. So i asked her why should i hire her? She answered very confidently - because the previous tenant trusted her with the kitchen and she is very comfortable working in my kitchen - she told me she knows more about my kitchen than even i would. She even went to the extent of bullying the younger ones who knocked at my door. That cheesed me off, very badly. I made up mind to ensure she does not enter my house. Fair play, woman. I pulled out my trump card  - when she came with that betel-nut smile to be hired - i told her i am not hiring her and the reason is, she ruined the gas stove burner while in her previous employment and that, i had to shell out quite some dough to get it back to some respectable shape. She never showed her face again.  

My kind neighbour offered me her help and cook and i was really relieved. One, i don't have to worry about security and trust, given the fact the mother-daughter duo were working in her house for the last 8 months.The only rider being - the mother will work if the daughter is hired. My neighbour's reasonable caution being - the daughter's husband is dying from his drinking adventures and she takes off unannounced but the mother always covered for the day - so no pay deductions and it worked well for both parties. So, the mother cooked and the daughter took care of the cleaning and they come two times a day, seven days a week. What luck, i thought! We had that friendly negotiation that i would stop looking around and they will start from today. That today never came. Because young and perky Pramila would not turn up, elderly Rama would not start cooking. This drama went on for a week, see how patient i have become. I got bizarre reasons when i asked about Pramila's absence - she forgot to come because she slept through and blah.I gave her exactly a week plus 3 days bonus for her to show up. She didn't show up and trust my bizarre luck, i had no options - all knocks and enquiries stopped (thanks to old and wily Salma's bullying of the younger lot).The day Pramila showed up, my husband opened the door - she instructed him to summon Didi (that's me). The summoning bit irked me.My husband was visibly amused. I went to meet her. She was like yeah, she's supposed to start work. I looked at her and told her i am not hiring her. She was stunned - why? because i don't want to hire you -you slept through the day when the deal was made 10 days ago. I will hire anyone but you. She asked me if someone has replaced her - i said, already. She asked me - who? None of your business. 

So, i was without a help, and without a cook as well. I was resisting hiring a cook for sentimentally silly reasons. But with a hyperactive toddler and another on the way and, our bigger mission to eat healthy, home-cooked food at work, my energies and resources were getting poorly divided. And, i am not a champion in cooking, i am reasonably good.So, we had those really volatile days.Oh!eating out? forget it - this part of the city is poorly blessed with quality and service in the culinary department. Flashy joints and sub-standard food -we had very disappointing trips.

Then one day, Kavitha came by. She is tiny, wiry and frail - left me wondering how will she work? Some routine police-kind of questions and the more important, background check. I had grown paranoid reading reports of daylight murders and robberies in the city - i feel vulnerable at all levels, especially with a toddler who can't even speak a word for himself except his endearing babble. With loads of cynicism i told her of my rules - that i would not be monitoring her at any point but one fine day if i discover a missing spoon (symbolic),that will be her last day in the house. Also, she should not cut corners - do less work but do it well. And, she would not demand hikes,gifts, money and the jazz unreasonably. I told her, she will never get an occasion to ask - because,i am generally mindful of such occasions. Her face braved all of that - and she shot back, very politely - stealing a spoon or anything for that matter won't send her to the grave rich. Ok, you're hired. 

So, Kavitha is not literate. She is about 28 years. She eloped when she was 13.She has 2 daughters, one 14 and another 9.Both of them attend a private 'English-medium' school.She is a Chennai-based Telugu.She works in 4 homes to pay for her kids' fees and to keep the kitchen hearth going. Her husband's contribution is zero - he is the personal driver for some big-shot and, is a perennial drunk and chicken-consumer. She told me her story on my asking - I usually dismiss this as a routine sob-story that all maids use to milk some guilt and sympathy. She is fond of Arjun and is caring towards him. She is not fussy, keeps to her work and there are days, when we share breakfast and some tea.She's scared of taking leaves, lest her pay gets cut.

Of late, she is not keeping well - every third day, she has 'fever' (any sickness is fever). Today, we had a long chat over breakfast - the actual reason of her 'fever'. Her daughter is in class 8 in a private school.The fees are getting higher - she opted to send her to a govt.school, the daughter refused to shift, saying all her friends are in this school. Her husband asked her to discontinue the daughter's education from the next academic session. Kavitha does not know how to cope with this tension.I heard her out, I told her worrying so much won't solve the problem as much as working her gut off in so many homes.She does not want any charity but she wants her girls to have some legacy of being educated at least, until the 10th standard.Her husband is callous. Her girls, however innocent, are unaware of the travails she has to go through to keep the house functional. She tells me their demands are endless. They want new dresses for every festival, they also want similar crayons and all that blah. She obviously, cannot afford every desire of theirs. She has stopped feeling guilty. She does not blame them.

Back in the day, i thought, we were such tolerant kids - if our mother told us, she could get just a dress each for a certain festival, we were ok. And, father assured us, that we would look very beautiful in that one dress even if we wore it for 5 consecutive days, we believed him. There were also many festivals, where we gave up small luxuries of buying a new dress or toy because the computer fees had to be paid.Such innocent times!I don't remember feeling threatened or small if my neighbour had more dresses and toys - i feel hugely blessed to have had such a secure childhood of contentment with whatever we had. I wish to pass that to our children even if we are economically slightly better off. 

The rate at which kids evolve these days is frightening at times.And, if we are not able to give them a feeling of security (not to be read as wants and desires) in such highly-paced consumerist times, what are we leaving them with? I know of two 3-yr old kids in the block who refuse to read books, they would read it from the Kindle.Okay, point taken. Their parents beam with pride at their gadget-savvy behaviour but i really don't know.

Okay so back to Kavitha. I calmed her down and told her to keep faith and, that help will come in some or the other form. No problem in this world goes unattended.And, it's time she asserted herself a little more firmly.Instead of discontinuing the education of the girls in private schools, she may choose the option of sending them to a govt-aided school. Her girls will benefit from a lot of schemes and scholarships. Of course, the veneer of a govt.school is not all that appealing with the kind of facilities outside education, that public, private and international schools provide.At the end of the day, she has to make up her mind. 

All I could tell her is, she should operate within her means and not promise the moon to her girls. Disappointment is a bigger problem to deal with than reality. The reality is, by the time the girls turn 18, they would have to be married off and given their economic and social strata, too much of a flashy lifestyle or education can be a disadvantage at times in terms of adjustment. And, they have no assets in terms of gold, silver or even some plot of land. Kavitha was in for a rude shock. I told her to start saving up some of her earnings - like try and make ends meet by not claiming her pay from one house out of the four for a period of six months. See how difficult and manageable it is. With that corpus, she could invest in silver anklets for both her girls and lock them away in the bank. 

I have not told her but I plan to open a savings account for her this coming New Year.At the end of the day, I realised both of us are no different. We  all work our souls off to care for our families.

What is your name, Madam? My name is Madam

It's been ages I had interesting conversations with the autowallah bhai log. Around  Diwali, i met a kind soul who drove me home safely through an unavoidable potholed road.He charged 10 rupees more than the actual meter fare and for a change, i didn't feel bad giving him his premium. I also offered a box of Diwali sweets.His face lit up and he was tad guilty, left with a 'Happy Diwali, Madam!'

Yesterday,I was outside a big retail store with a big bag and of course,the waiting autos are always the foxy ones, negotiating with them is a real hurdle. So I don't even look at them - simply ignore. I flagged a running auto, a young boy driver and I must say,I am partial to brand new autos.He had absolutely short hair, seems to me, he shaved his head weeks ago.I didn't say a word, just hopped in and he had that 'please,meter pe 10 rupaiya, madam' look. I gave him a hard stare and told him to take the nearest left and exit to the connecting road. He mumbled a grumble but gave up mid-way, more like a student who has been denied a free period.He defended he won't get any return passenger. I retorted he should never give up hope.He said he lost all his hair hoping.I was like - come again? I preached if he got up everyday that he would not get any passengers.You can always expect 2 kinds of reactions. One, to extract their pound of flesh, some autowallas drive over potholes purposely and make you regret you ever hired them. Two, well the obvious - drive properly.Well, my young boy drove properly, more out of love for his new auto.And, methinks, he is not from the city, once in a while, he asked me directions. Two, he also gave me options of shortcuts or regular U-turns which meant more fuel and more fare.I left it to him and he took care it was optimum for both.

I was amused a little. I remarked at him that he does not look like a local, he confirmed. He was from Mahbubnagar and I asked him what about his family. He said he has none. I asked again, mother-father? He was puzzled, and answered of course, his parents were there. Then, what was he thinking - wife and kids . His parents were in Annaram.On further enquiries he said he is a class 9 drop-out and he was more interested in autos and lost interest in school.I asked him if he ever wanted to finish school. He said yes, his mother is after his life egging him to write his 10th.I asked him, if he wants to. He said yes because he feels bad his friends are in college.I asked him his age, he quickly defended saying he is not so grown-up as he looks but is much younger. I told him I didn't say he looked old. He reluctantly revealed he was 17.And what about his driving licence - he was like 'ho jata'. Very good, I told him his entire life was there in front of him and tomorrow, his kids would be very proud if their dad managed to study a little more.

Soon, I was at my doorstep. He pleaded with me to give that extra 10 bucks. I looked at him with a stern but gentle stare. I handed him the meter fare. He accepted it fairly. Then, I handed him 10 bucks with the promise that he will write his 10th open schooling exam.And wherever and whenever we meet again, he should shout out with the update.I asked his name - Venkatesh. He asked my name - 'What is your name, Madam?' I said, 'Madam!' And, that I used to teach kids his age.He held that 10 rupees, wondering whether to return or ..I didn't turn back.

A suitcase of hopes


I was looking outside the window-sill, found the rain water outlet so absolutely clean. Before I could turn around and ask, my mother informed me Guddu and Bhatt uncle got it cleaned. My school can be seen across our house, a half-constructed parapet and a little girl running around in white stockings with a nice red-jacket on and her mother calling out her name.

Everything seemed very distant and all the voices drowned in that feeble winter sunshine. There seemed to have been a light drizzle. And there was this crumpled invoice of a failed courier in my hand. That dark steel gray suitcase never reached me. I had not paid attention to it in months. It was sent on the 3rd of August, 2011 and today is the 26th of January, 2012. There was a helpline number I could call on the reverse of that invoice. Some Mr.Kirti answered my call, he tells me its about 5:30 pm in Mumbai and the office is about to close for the day. I gave him the consignment number and he agreed such a parcel came and was never delivered to the rightful owner and they conveniently informed us – Lost In Transit. He was kind enough to assure me the parcel is safe.

Suddenly, I hate myself for not following it up on time. The courier people offered compensation but I stood my ground. I thought of consumer rights and the counter measures, anything not claimed over a period of 3months can be disposed in whatever manner by the courier people. But they said the suitcase was safe.

I began wondering what about the contents inside. This aunty told me she sent an orange saree with a black and gold border, meaning ornate heavy stuff. Mother told me, my favourite saree was also in that suitcase. I was like, oh no – you mean the silver one with that blue and dull gold brocade? She said yes. I was even more determined to get hold of the suitcase. Kirti told me the suitcase was in some godown in Pune. Why on earth, Pune?

I dialed the courier people again, since it’s a toll free 24/7 hotline. A young woman answers my call and I could almost sense domesticity in the background - a cranky husband and a cantankerous kid and our lady was munching on something. I rattled off my missing bag story to her. She could not care a flying whatever, she told me she was eating dinner and she will see into this on Monday. I was very desperate and told her, that one of her colleagues spoke to me and assured me that they’d go out of the way to ensure this got sorted out at the earliest. I don’t want to sound sexist but I hated her so much at that point in time. I came down like a ton of bricks on her and questioned her work ethics and what about that glorified thing called customer care and service and how they could be so careless of a missing baggage for 6 months. Mother interjects that she had packed some homegrown herbs and foods. It was so agonizing to learn that, I almost felt like saying woh sab jaye tel lene but the sarees are heirloom to me and I’d do anything to remove the odours and smells of 6 months.

I wake up in the morning to find my husband packing for his Europe trip and gosh, it was the same steel gray suitcase standing next to his favourite Samsonite. Very endearingly, he told me to have a look and see what needs to be added or subtracted. Of course, I won’t find those 2 sarees – the orange one with the black and gold border and of course, my favourite one, the silver one with the blue brocade. The silver one is with mother and the orange one does not even exist. It was a 4am dream. 

By the way, I have been shopping to my heart's delight without burning any hole whatsoever anywhere. I began the year with an envious Kashmiri collection -a chignon saree,a heavy embroidered party stole and a salwar suit that I admire day in and day out and would hate to see the tailor cut to size. A few days ago, went berserk getting Rajasthani mojris and jootis of the choicest colors and don't kill me for getting about 8 MP handloom kurtas in different hues and dyes. Oh, another update, a friend's mom in Baroda just sent me 2 splendid Bandhej salwar suits in glorious shades. I am already over the moon. And,these are not gifts.

Random random random

Another year went by in the city and it still fees like i left school just yesterday. I have a Peter Pan disorder. Also, I am prone to getting nostalgic at the drop of a hat as much as i claim to have moved on. Got some heady knocks and learnt some priceless lessons on the way, especially from near and dear ones and friends and former colleagues.No point  intellectualising family and friends, each has their quirks and we have little choice but work around them, the options are few - endure,indulge or ignore.

I have literally gone places last year from status change to what not.I can't tell you how much i hate packing now, even unpacking is a nightmare. Many  think  i have changed - oh yes, if i am pausing by to catch a breath.

Living is an onward journey, with interesting chapters.I am not of a philosophical bent to say Life aha! It brings sheer joy to know comrades and 4am friends are following their hearts and dreams. Many are enjoying parenthood - the miracle of life does not cease to tire anyone.We don't get to meet or speak in days or years but that they are under the same sky somewhere is comforting. 

I realised i am sentimental about challenges even with family. There are some things which are non-negotiable.I paid less alms last year and i am proud of it. Husband keeps small biscuit packets in the car and they are better than alms. Husband and i distributed surgical masks to traffic constables at signals, those surly guys smiled for once.I gave up eggs for 3 months on a whimsical challenge and celebrated the feat last night with a bread omelette I watch less TV,boring movies, dont touch the camera and read fewer books these days, and i am not fretting. I have an awesome ManFriday who brings tulsi saplings for my garden when i'm least expecting them.

Life is good, the chinks will iron out.

Imaginary failings


The little efforts at making peace
Seem so lost in a thirsty desert.
Life is not about deals always,
Even if the demons say so.

Letting go and letting in –
Makes one a hero and a coward.
How much and what you make of it -
Your choice to remain in the rat race.

Blaming fortunes and the villain –
Seems the easiest way out.
No family, no religion –
Seems sanctuary enough in bad times.

Weathering the storm with grace
Makes one a braveheart, so I am told.
Crying silently, consoling quietly –
Waiting for the darkness to fade away.

 ~ Yours truly

Mexican food tales and home-made tacos

I have never tried Mexican cuisine save for the affected upmarket nachos at PVR cinemas while in India - in the US, the urge is lower especially with limited vegetarian options.He finds them ok,especially the supermarket 'fresh' tortillas a good substitute for home-made rotis and phulkas and if the roti-maker that you have carried does not have matching voltage and the cooking appliance is not a gas burner but an induction one and a thousand other issues!

On the road trip during my birthday weekend, we had stopped by downtown Guerneville for a quick bite - he had some piping hot cheese quesadilla while i stuck to my safe nachos with salsa.

Back in our neighbourhood, we stopped by one of these Mexican food-on-wheels, quite like the mobile bundis we have back home.Trust me, they have great stuff most times!


I ordered a simple veg taco, the filling was tomatoes-onions-green chillies and some sauce sauteed with coriander garnishing on a hot iron pan. It was that simple but admittedly mouth-watering for a suddenly windy Californian evening.

Last Saturday, after a long day's hike and a movie evening out and my fastidious mind saying no to cooking at home or North/South Indian fare, we decided to go tacos!He is not very fond of Chinese or anything Asian, it will be acquired, he assures.But i must say i'm not very fond of the red beans taco for all its health benefits..I have a pet peeve or two with these beans. Also realised, the veg taco filling varies from wheel to wheel. 

At Santana Row, at this nice quaint Mexican place - open air under a giant oak tree, i went footloose singing and clapping, dancing in my seat to their live Mexican music - a very happy place.I totally loved their pan-fresh Mexican fries with a light sprinkle of paprika, McDonalds should admit defeat and shame.He ordered Nachos with guacamole sauce and a sizzling something in sesame. We were killing time before that movie premiere.

Day before yesterday, he brought home a pack of tortillas and told me he is going to snip a centimeter of my hair everyday if the tortillas .Guffaws. So my lunch today was Mexican  - veg tacos :)

For the filling
1 tomato, finely chopped
1 big onion, finely chopped
1 big green chilli, finely diced 
1 clove of garlic,finely diced
1/2 a capsicum, finely diced
Salt to tast
A pinch of garam masala
Garlic pepper powder
A pinch of black salt
Chopped coriander for garnishing 
A dash lime for garnishing
Half a tsp of any tomato based sauce (optional)
Any cooking oil

Heat pan over medium heat.Pour very little oil.Add some mustard seeds and cumin seeds and see them through till they crackle. Add the chopped onions and garlic, stir and fry until they give out that nice aroma.You may want to add a pinch of garam masala for effect. Add the chopped capsicum and tomatoes till all the juices blend well. Sprinkle salt and sprinkle garlic pepper generously per taste.And sauce,optional though. Garnish with coriander, a dash of lime and a sprinkle of black salt.

Now over to the tortillas - took out a couple of them. 

(You can choose to heat them or not.You may also refrigerate them and serve later for a salad effect in styled cuts and slices, almost resembling those Indo-Chinese veg rolls, served in our restaurants  back in India.  Ideally, you should heat tortillas on a flat iron pan but putting them in the microwave for 20secs or so is as good enough.

You could use anything imagined from peanut butter to flavoured cheese. I took my favourite sour cream cheese cube and smeared it all over the tortilla wrap and added my already prepared filling. Roll it, and its ready.  I also took out some of his favourite hummus paste from the fridge and that was as good.

Sorry, no pictures - i was really hungry but its a pretty much easy D-I-Y method.

I wanted to say Gracias to myself.

Flight to SF and how i met my husband

No major travel is complete without that famous checklist of what to carry and what not to,since it is a 'system'-driven over-exalted country -yes,the USA.Some things here are good, some average, most below average and you have the below below-averages too. I tried to be  practical by not getting all that i wanted  but it has driven my husband nuts why i didn't. For the record, i didn't carry some of my nice shoes,perfumes, bags and any of my junk jewellery( what they sell here is @$$%$$%^) especially if one has had the experience of having haggled with Afghani and Burmese peddlers and Indian karigars from semi-precious stones to terracotta to wound-metal and beads to bamboo to carved wood, of course not forgetting old forgettable trinket shops from across the country. I carried everything else, at least i think so - memories, love and wishes. 

My flight was smooth with sleep. I slept, ate, drank lots of water and watched 6.5 movies - Unknown, Just go with it, Tron Legacy, Switched, The Tourist and The Apartment and bits of Tangled.I had an extra seat next to me and no celebrity on board .

At SF, immigration was smooth though the officer remarked i didn't look Indian as much as i wanted to reciprocate he didn't look American AT ALL. In 20mins, i was out at the lounge.

So, Friday afternoon US time, there is no one waiting for me at the lounge with flowers and music. No familiar smiling face. I had Mohini for company who was waiting for her brother and her dad. 

Then, i dial him. Baap re, Airtel ISD roaming, that too, outgoing.
--
Where are you? 
Ah, you have reached? 
Yes, i cant see you!
Look around, you will see me - with a balloon and flowers :O)
Gosh! - Mohini found it so cute and romantic, i wanted to run away. Sweet gal!
Then, a sunflower balloon sailed in with a bunch of pink tiger lilies.And believe me, if it was an Indian airport it would not have looked any different. Just that, i didn't see any CCD or Baskin Robbins around. Here, it stood out. And, there was the familiar smiling face. I remember Mohini egging me to run and hug him amidst 'oh-my-god!' I was like no way - this is so hilarious and, embarrassing, of course.

I smiled and wondered at how i travelled round the globe to be with him.The first words were - where is the restroom?

Said a quick bye to Mohini and we were on the road. My seat had 2 lovely Dutch roses and I was Cupid-struck again. Flowers from him are very special. So, i have to tell you this. He is not the kind to buy flowers for me regularly.For the record, I have sent him flowers. He got me a Minnie Mouse balloon the first time we went out for coffee. He got me a toolkit in one of my housewarming parties and a travel adapter on one occasion. Flowers are few and far between. So you get the drift.

I got myself a nice pair of pink Adidas running shoes, not to show off ( but, of course) but to protect my feet.Pink does me in. Had lahori aloo naan and aloo palak for 16 dollars - he kept asking me not to do the dollar-rupee conversion like i could avoid. I wanted to start cooking from that Saturday - so we went shopping - again the conversion syndrome hit me.Prepared suji ka halwa for puja and poha for breakfast. Lunch was dal,roti, chawal and baingan ka bhaja. Watched Kungfu Panda 2, kinda disappointed at its Bollywood trail.

Sunday weather prediction was not so encouraging but i needed to get over my jetlag.Besides vegetable shopping at a Sunday organic farmers' market Hubby dear drove us to Brentwood for U-pick cherry-berry farm experience. Shop shut thanks to the sad weather, we bought a couple pounds of apricots and cherries for a dear price - lesson, manual labour is costly.On our way back, he took me to Milpitas thinking i'd want to shop.I was not particularly thrilled looking around. Each American resembles the other in style, size and appetite. A very consumerist society who does not know what to do in the weekend - except come shop, eat and go party like mad - and of course, egos massive as your neighbour's elephant. Got  my socks and jeans, and 3 perfumes,ate a croissant and drove home. Jetlagged still.

Missing my hallu-hallu Hyderabad.

Madam, can i speak to Shweta Sharma?

My 1st mobile connection in Hyderabad was an Idea pre-paid. My second was a Hutch postpaid in my friend's name - i incidentally became his sister for all verification purposes.Then, Hutch became Vodafone and I wanted a connection in my name. Quit Vodafone, dint think it was necessary to clear the last payment since they had a huge deposit.They sent me two dummy legal notices and stopped spamming my inbox.Lazy rascals, they won't settle accounts first. My Airtel post paid corporate connection came through with my name and address proof.This is like some 3 years ago. 

Every few months, I get a call from the Airtel call center asking for a certain Ms Shweta Sharma. Obviously,the first few times, I was polite enough to say wrong number. The following year, again these calls started increasing from different sources and numbers. I suspected this girl must be absconding with pending payment and must have destroyed the SIM card so that nobody tracks her down. Dumbass Airtel has this policy of cycled numbers and yours truly's was perhaps used and destroyed by Shweta.These calls got frequent and intense to the point of warning me to disconnect my connection if i dint tell where Shweta Sharma is. WTH. I said, "theek hai bhai, woh bhi karlo. Fir dekhlo, Consumer Court mein we will sing - You and I in this beautiful world...(former Hutch signature jingle)"

I walk in to an Airtel booth and flagged this problem and this menace kind of stopped for about 10 months or so. Yesterday, in the middle of a spate of meetings at work, i get bombarded by calls. I picked up one and someone rattled off in Telugu. So annoying, why do call centers think everyone will speak/respond in Telugu? There are two acceptable languages of communication - Hindi and English. Of course, I uttered - "Telugu raduu, Hindi mein baat karo( meaining- I don't know Telugu, speak in Hindi)."  Then the conversation went from "Wait, wait.." to someone asking me - "Where is Shweta Sharma?" So, she is still missing.

I had so little patience with such nonsense. From "I don't know." to "Why should I tell you?", the final one was "WTH are you bugging me?". Salesgirl, such a stubborn one.I told her ask Airtel, or else go to a Police Station or better still, Google her. She dint find it funny and I seconded the same. She said she is calling from Airtel. I dared her to suspend my services if that is what she is aiming at. Smart girl got the point. "No madam, hum bill payment ke baad thodi kar rahe hai. Aap ko itna gussa kyun aata hai ji?" Wow! She insisted on knowing my name - I told her it is not Shweta Sharma and she can check with Airtel what my name is and where i live. I asked her to come home and see that no Shweta Sharma lives with me or I am not Shweta Sharma.Again, she asked my name. I told her to go take a dip in Hussain Sagar then open the Airtel records.
She told me Shweta Sharma gave my number as reference, just in case. God only knows, what has become of her and what prompted her to give my number?

Read in TOI just the other day,a woman's docs were misused and there are 30 connections in her name and not a single connection is used by her. She was not aware so many connections were (mis)used in her name. Only after the telecom parties were on their verification drive, this was 'discovered' and thought of as a TOI item.Mine may not be TOI worthy but dear Airtel, this is annoying.

So yeah, in plainspeak i blasted this Airtel girl not to get me into an identity crisis of their making and get her facts checked. 

So who is this Shweta Sharma? Oh by the way, in this part of the world, Shewta could be Swetha or Shwetha or maybe Sweta. Don't know which one is missing.

Women's day, truly

It was raining SMSes and FB updates on how glorified we are as a species, how special we ought to feel and the warm pro-woman (not feminist) gestures were everywhere. My otherwise gruff boss wished each one of his lady lecturers - "Happy Women's Day, Madam!". Well, we felt very "special" needless to say, more zing at work, must i say! As much as i said thank god, one day nearly the whole race is out with roses and all, but how ironic! After sundown, pack up?

A gentleman at work comes and wishes me, then indulges in an intellectual argument - "madam, chalo aaj ka din toh khair.." That says it all. I nodded in agreement and sighed. He says women's problems are not always because of men alone and, most are due to women themselves. Didn't know whether to agree and be enlightened or whatever. Sometimes wilful ignorance is bliss. I remembered a play i studied in my masters - Thomas Middleton's Women, Beware Women.

There is hardly any dignity left even with the celebrations around. Amidst nation wide celebrations, one DU girl got shot, Aruna Shanbaug awaits life and death and closer home, an old widow struggles with the harsh truth of a runaway daughter who has left her family and kid.

Do i feel special as a woman? Totally. Special has such 'other' connotations.I feel totally special because i was raised very well by my parents that i dont have patience for nonsense - yeah yeah, I hear the groans. My conviction is not lost one bit just because my father thinks I cant take my own decisions. Grow up, Papa.

I dont know if i was (my grandparents are long dead and in the clouds) a good grand-daughter. My maternal ones always disagreed with me over everything from calling a transistor as radio and a half sweater as jacket.My paternal grandpa was gone much before my folks got married and grandma was some mad Amazon. My extended family thinks i am disobedient because i love doing things my way.Maybe, I am disobedient.I am convinced actually.

Mother - confusing. Your mother is never wrong, she is always sweet and sacrificing. Your friend's mother is also nice and as good as yours and mine.We never get into such disputes, do we? Especially if she is a male friend's mother who has no romantic allusions - she is always adorable. And you have the special friend's mother who is otherwise universally misunderstood as the Tamer of all young and nicely believed to be Shrews who come into their son's lives as their loves. Ask any girl who has visited her special friend's place and that she was not probed. Not all special friend's mothers are this universal kinds though. There are some outstanding ones too, who are beyond your comprehension and the universal category in terms of degree. Ma, you are beautiful.

I have an amazing sister who disapproves the fact that i am a plain Jane and don't wear make-up. Like any younger sister, she is vanity personified. I like her raiding my dressing table and wardrobe. My kid brother is my kid brother. He is known as my brother and that's a truth universally acknowledged and unchallenged, and I totally feel special as his sister.

My sisterhood of girlfriends - what would i be without you? From sleepless nights of sharing joys to disappointments and holding  me in my vulnerable moments, you and i are meant to be.

An impromptu celebration of womanhood at work. Humble party, the only and most extravagant was a bottle of Sprite under a creaking fan. 3 of us from different regions and states of life, each of us spinning a yarn. What must a young bride be feeling 2 months before her marriage when her father passed away and her kid brother giving his 3rd year engineering exams? How about your mom away at her mother's and you and your childlike dad managing the wedding run-up and you have no brothers? And how about your entire family with extensions doing a no-show at your wedding and you are totally excited? Smiles.

I never ever wanted to be a girlfriend or have a boyfriend.Kept it convenient to avoid embarrassment,saves a lot of announcement and insecurity issues.And, i think, i quite succeeded for the longest time.

You have all kinds - mad, cribbing, ranting, vicious, funny, heroic, accommodating -Thank you for making life interesting. Such a hijacked day,from unstoppable tears and mirthful time with my lovely kids to a planned Women's Day surprise biriyani lunch with a future relative to be, my dinner was a bowl of Maggi. That explains it all.

Not a bitter harvest as someone puts it.

Colgate Free Dental Check-up

This is rather old,, decided to write about as I was clearing the inbox of my mobile number. Have been meaning to write about these 2 funny and conflicting SMSes I got.

There was this ad splashed in all the major newspapers sometime in the 2nd week of September, inviting SMS registrations from one and all  for a free dental check-up by Colgate in their respective cities.Now who does not know Colgate and her credentials? We had to SMS the city that we belonged to, to a number - 567625. 

Ok, I am able to retrieve the date - it was 11th Sept'10. I SMSed my location to the said number and within a minute I get the reply - "Sorry! The Oral Health Month activity of Colgate has concluded in 31st Oct 2010.Visit www.oralhealthmonth.co.in for  more details." 
Yes - on 11th Sept'10, I get a SMS informing me the camp got over already.

Anyway, with as much cynicism I carried about the chores of the day when another SMS beeps. Again, from the same number,only this time it says - "Colgate free dental check-ups from 1st Sept 2010 to 31st Oct 2010 for Hyderabad
Call Dr.R,Ajaykumar 55637696,9885195612,,
Ganesh Ramesh 66834298,9866044298
Shilpa A Reddy 23553375,23303085"

I did not want to attend the camp anymore.I finally did not.

And, Hyderabad saw some who ran

A social responsibility initiative of a college and an NGO to promote 1098 - Childline. The roads surely belonged to the young ones - those who ran, those who walked, those who zoomed in their bikes and scootys for delicious eye candy  and for want of sunscreen.Some kids who wore the white tees were absolutely thrilled for the faarst time! I hope, you get the drift.

I had dressed aptly for the occasion - in sports gear, only to realise I was going to emcee the show! I mean, what? Methinks, I should command a premium going forward for all the stop-gap arrangements I do (wink, wink). Overheard -"Arey, yeh Chinese bhi bhag rahi re!" That's Hyderabad for me after 4 years.

I carried a spare kurta, a hand towel, sunscreen and a pair of sneakers for a colleague (who never wore them, I am grrr that she didn't tell me she already had one). And, yes. The stage did not have adjoining green rooms, not even a makeshift one. I was expected to change my outfit in some goddam car, which did not even have dark screen.Nevermind, the dignitaries can wait. They did. Meanwhile, I walked to the MMTs Railway Station at Sanjeevaiah Park, spoke to the counter guys to open the ladies loo. The old gardener had the key.  In a minute, I was in a new avatar. Kalamkari kurta, black capris and absolutely colorful sneakers and mehndi hands and strictly told, I cant wear a cap.Thank god, for sunscreen. In such times, the common man also loves to play some power games to establish the hierarchy.He asked for a neat 11 rupees. The most beautiful invective that flew out of my sacred morning mood was 'Chup be!' I did not even use the loo for its real purpose, besides the free loos in most malls are way cleaner than his one.The juice guy brushed past me, helpfully whispered in English -"Madam, pay him one rupee only." 'Only' before/after/ stressed/non-stressed is so Hyderabadi. I thanked him in the most 'firang' fashion to make his day. And I marched to the venue, only to be nearly gasped at by everyone. The programme began, amidst jumps and starts, coughs and hiccups, breaks and whatever. I think, I don't remember a word of what I spoke there.Daniel Defoe gave the world one Manfriday for Robinson Crusoe, yours truly is the female version for all seasons - I felt like aloo-tamatar, dal-chawal, ginger-garlic, salt and pepper (please ignore the food analogy, I was really hungry when I was doing the show).

The program got over, and as anticipated, there were enough and young Shakespearean fools, gender unspecific - some eat out of your hands, some  eat dust, some commit faux pas of going all giddy about classified information - who provide such sitcom entertainment.I mean, college kids around their teachers will continue to be moony eyed (guffaws). There are rare exceptions like  me, for example.

B and I had a total girl's day out. Sandwich starters with two lovely kids.Then Chinese lunch.Then, a total brain-outing of a Hollywood movie, of course not to forget the jewellery shopping (blush blush).Tired feet dying for TLC.

Psst : KCR forgot there was Jai Telangana bandh. The chief guest, some politician looked so pissed to have been woken up so early, especially on a Saturday.

Smiles. 

Tuk-Tuk tales : Kiss in the mirror

I hailed this auto last morning on my way to work, it had all the works of Basanti Tangewali. Anyway, meter on and we were on our way zooming when i notice a salacious pair of ugly red lips on both the side mirrors.OOOf!



Whichever side of the auto one sits, at the back - central, left or right, our man has ensured he gets a a live coverage of heaving bosoms, with dupatta, scarf, odhni or without one from the rear-view mirror.
I tried to perch myself strategically away from those roguish lips,i managed to hide from one side but was covered on the other, not happening!

And our man in a torn khaki shirt was too listless and bored to care about the discomfort.Anyway, i thought this makes for an interesting entry and for lack of a better pair of lens, i took out my old and humble N72 to capture those lips. Our man got alerted.He began stretching his arms to,ofcourse, block my view. He also began driving superfast through all potholes and god, i wanted to swear at him. But then, i spared him.Om Gandhigiri!


I took about 6 wrong pictures before i hooked the ones i wanted.

Midnight conversations

A poem
Scenes and flashbacks.
Hide and seek betrayal.
Life on a begging platter.
Diminished but hopeful.

Happiness and flourish.
Speculations ruin.
Promises destroy.
Never look back.

Dignity and truth.
Awareness eases.
You live to smile.
Smile to love.

A promise
Life alone is not easy, so I'm told.Cranky behaviour, panic calls and difficult conversations.Solution, get hitched.Problem,find the right person.A meeting.Laughter, bonhomie.Maybe,maybe not.Sorry,I am cynical.
Yes,buoyant!Coffee.Long drive,no candlelight dinner yet.Shopping,a movie?
Screeecch! No, not happening.Never happening.Broken.No.Taking it easy.
Moral : Whatever happens, happens for the best .

Stories
What do you mean by G-O-D? Don't know.G- Generate,O-Organise,D-Demolish.Arey, Brahma,Vishnu, Maheshwar, our Hindu Trinity!All scriptures mean the same.All roads lead to Rome,er..G-O-D.

What goes around comes around.Why you and I met in this world.Surely, a reason.Tch, cliched.Someone asked Goddess Ganga if she does not feel the burden of sins washed into her by mankind.No way, she gives to the Sagar (sea).She has no reason to be burdened.Sagar also did not carry the burden of sins washed down by the three holy rivers - Ganga, Jamuna and Saraswati. He gave it back  to the Baadal (clouds). Baadal never kept the burden at all, whoever defaulted - he visited them during the rainy season and wreaked havoc with a little flood here and there.

Awareness of sin is important, acknowledging is even more important.Maharathi Bheeshma Pitamah, the grand patriach of the Kauravas and the Pandavas on his death-bed made of arrows asked Lord Krishna what  he had sinned to deserve this. Remaining silent when a person is wronged amounts to sin.Many years ago, he had diced a snake to death. Two landmark events that went on compounding for lack of awareness.

Never borrow or seek a favour from anyone.The idea of return gifts.Need not be expensive.The thought matters.Be self-reliant. I will give no favour and expect none.

Life is beautiful.

Reaffirmation

That happy unaware child with the balloon.
That lil' girl building castles in the beach.
And the content wife praying to the guardian deity
Not to forget the protective mother weaving stories for her child.
...
The misgivings of trust and time
Never necessarily breaks the doll's house.
Some get disheartened, a little.
Some disappointed, somewhat.
...
Your name beams with your picture,
Reaffirming of the calm twilight to come.
My feet curl up when the seas come ashore.
Looking for familiars lest I drown.
...
Years of love, and longing
Seek approval in that one missed call
Which you lovingly indulge, like always.
And the petulant me skips a heartbeat.


Smiles.

Life in passing

All the journeys I made seemed so trivial,
A milestone, a memory of fast disappearing familiars.
Everything old is new again for the one last time.
The mist of the past fades before me,
Beckoning me to smile amidst a hidden tear.
There are happier days to come.
The ride to a milestone, the chatter and bonhomie.
Sleep trailing before and after, defiant eyes, alert.
Life will never be mundane, never ever.
Absolutely, quiet and peaceful night,
Awaiting the morning-after of confusion and hope,
Of bigger dates with fortune and sincerity.
Memory is for cats and snakes, not for me.
Remembrance is for the departed and days bygone.
We live and love, not to be reviled, forgotten and revived.

Letting go

A laboured life but a graceful one,
The well oiled plait till her hips,
Not anymore lustrous
As it would have been in her prime.

Seems to me, she learnt dance,
The big bindi and the graceful wrists,
The faded cotton sari  and the narrow waist ,
Arms as slender but not deprived.

The handsome toddler and she
Chatter and stroll in the twilight,
Her unfailing vanity on her shoulder -
The smallish grey purse has seen it all.

The sky is overcast, the earth is thirsty.
Little men make brisk business.
The flames crackle, the tea boils.
Some want it fast despite no hurry.

Little boy wants a roast cob,
Grandma wants some adorning flowers.
Hand-in-hand, smiles of satisfaction,
The winsome-twosome hitch a ride for half a mile.

The smell of coconut and the waft of jasmine,
And, baby shampoo and milk-rice,
Left me wondering at dear life
Where is my grandma and my little boy?

Alive

Romancing the rain, 
I told myself,
Time is my ally, 
The world is my best friend.

I love without a care
I live without fear.
My dream is safe,
I sleep in peace.


-Smiles