Ah yes, it was a very pleasant morning. Yet another event to remind us of our responsibilities and the passage of time. We will meet again soon to recollect the occasion , I am sure, and dwell on the past and move on into the future....
Monday, January 28, 2008
The big fat Indian wedding...
Ah yes, it was a very pleasant morning. Yet another event to remind us of our responsibilities and the passage of time. We will meet again soon to recollect the occasion , I am sure, and dwell on the past and move on into the future....
Imagine there's no country....
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Is God Deaf?
This was a banner put up by a scientist in Mumbai. He was referring to the din that is created in the name of religion. And his words could not be more true. We have both a temple ( practically next door) and a mosque some distance away. The noise ( unfortunately I am referring to the prayers) is unbelievable. Right from the time the devout walk into the temple we have the 'bhajans' blaring from the sound system that has been installed. And as if to compete with them is the neighbourhood mosque, which has speakers placed right onto their top floor - facing our house- and we have at most times a muezzin who absolutely screams the prayers 5 times a day. The call for namaz can be beautifully rendered, alas, this is not the case here. And so Is god deaf really becomes relevant. I am sure he can feel the reverence without the din. And is that why on most Diwali days we have a heavy downpour - a message from above, to cut down all that racket?
We also have marriage processions that pass through the narrow lane adjacent to our apartment, the various processions for different festivals, the politicians who gather to garner votes.. the list is unending. Sadly the husband also adds to the noise when we go on a drive, incessantly sounding the horn - adding to the noise pollution .
Noise can really drive me up the wall. I find it very unnerving, these loud sounds. Maybe if you think I complain so much, I would appreciate silence. That is not true either. My uncle had this beautiful cottage at Kotagiri. Ah , the view was breathtaking, the air so very fresh and so very silent. For a holiday, a stay there was wonderful, but only for couple of days, after which I used to long for the sounds of the city.
Then does it seem strange that I am complaining??
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Roadside eats
This picture appeared in the newspaper the other day. It did stir some childhood memories once again. This was one of those forbidden sweets ( Bombay mithai) for us. The vendor generally made his presence known by plucking on an instrument ( some folksy stuff like the ektara I guess), that could be heard for some distance. This would continue till some of the kids surrounded him and off he would get down to work pulling at the sugar mound and carving different shapes like the flower seen alongside. Some children would want a watch which he would make and put round their wrist. Another of those prohibited food for us ( which is seen even these days) is the ice crush. The ice block would be grated and then gathered together and put on a stick with a liberal dash of colour and essence. It did seem so attractive. But my mother was wary of the colours used in these sweets and the quality of water. In fact she was so particular about the water that even on some of the infrequent times that we went out for a meal at the small restaurants, we were not allowed to sip the water that was served at the table. Of course those days we did not have bottled water and nor ever imagine that water would ever be sold!! Incidentally, she passed on this finicky behaviour to me.
We had to walk about a kilometer to the bus stop from school. And we did at times stop at the fruit sellers for either a guava or the favourite tothapari mango This delicious mango is eaten when raw ( it has a sweet and sour taste) and the fruit seller would allow us to choose our fruit and then with the knife deftly cut it and liberally apply salt and chili powder. The thought still makes my mouth water. It made the journey to the bus stop very enjoyable.
We had the churan seller ( finely ground spices or whatever, but very tasty) that was packed in paper rolled almost pencil thin. We would tap it on to our palm and lick (yes we did) it gingerly. On days we could afford to ( 10 paise) we would buy a huge turkey egg ( hard sugar candy maybe half the size of a tennis ball) which we would pop into our mouth and suck for about 20 minutes.
As much as I do miss the eats, I definitely did not allow my children to stop by for such snacks. I would insist that the fruits be bought and washed and prepared under more hygenic conditions ( realising of course that the taste would never be comparable).
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Bred in Hyderabad
Hyderabad is well known for the Osmania biscuit ( a delicious sweet and salty cookie) and the Chand biscuit ( so called since it has the shape of the chand - or the moon in its crescent stage). The fruit biscuits of Hyderabad are famous. We also have an interesting variety of buns. The famous kulcha which is the flat bread carries an interesting legend. On one of his journeys to the Deccan, Mir Qamruddin (general of Aurangazeb) is said to have lost his way in a jungle. Tired and hungry he met a saint who offered him kulcha and water. Inspite of the saint's insistence it is
said that he could eat no more than 7 kulchas, and the saint blessed him saying that his dynasty would rule for 7 generations ( the Asif Jahi dynasty).
The old bakeries are far and few and have given way to newer and more modern ones. We also have some upmarket ones where the bread costs the earth. Right now with the kids away I am the only bread eater at home which probably accounts for the increase in weight that I have noticed and confirmed by the weighing scale.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Shankranti aka Pongal
Thursday, January 10, 2008
The youth magazine of our times
Sadly I read that trash too for lack of anything better!
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Racism
As one of my children gets ready to fly to a part of the world that can be racist, I read the article quoted with greater interest. Despite all odds, they move to a world where they may not really be welcomed hoping to provide themselves and their children a better life. Just remember to prove that you are superior by skills that you possess.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Bombay with my father
Sunday, January 6, 2008
And the puzzle that is me.
I have to solve some kind of puzzle each day. There are many reasons - mainly out of interest, to while away time, to keep my mind active ( I read this slows down aging of the brain), to ensure that I take my eyes off the bad traffic in my city ( in the car). I like doing the crossword, the sudoku, the jumble words, jigsaws, or even spotting the 6 differences .
I enjoy most the cryptic crossword. And that is one I have not mastered at all. My father could solve the most difficult crossword within 15-20 minutes. I regret not having spent time with him learning the art of crossword solving. It could have been real quality time that I could have had with him. I remember my parents doing the crossword together. My mother had the uncanny knack of coming up with the right word. She was not very good at it, but managed to get the right word for the last couple of clues my father would get stuck with.
It seems a good idea for people to do any kind of puzzle (especially the ones which involve mental activity) along with a partner. It would be as good a pastime as a game of scrabble on a Sunday afternoon. And watch your vocabulary expand.
To end with S&G My life is made of patterns That can scarcely be controlled