Disaster cupcake

                                    

On a sudden whim, I ran into the kitchen this morning. It was raining heavily outdoors. Maybe the cooling effect of much-sought-after rains..I wanted to experiment with baking. I love baking. Watching my son eating peanut butter, I felt like using it in some dish. I picked up some oats. Why, oats is healthy, isn't it?..and so I mixed honey, baking powder,oats and peanut butter with eggs and wheat flour. Milk was poured from the top(just as it's done on TV cookery shows) and I watched as the muffins rose in the hot oven.

My heart rose too.
I couldn't wait to eat them.

But...
they turned out horrible.
Tasted so oatey..bland.
To redeem my effort, I applied butter icing with a dash of lemon added to it. I applied them generously all over the sad looking muffins.
Yummm..now it tasted nice.
But all health benefits fled with the wind!

I hereby come to this conclusion..
NEVER use oats in your muffin again!
Rather feed it to a hungry horse..
or better still apply it to your face with honey,..
as an excellent facepack!!!

Banana bread

                                                                                  

Ingredients..

1 and 1/2 cup ata
1/3 cup butter melted
3/4 cup sugar powd
1egg
1tsp vanilla and 1tsp soda
4 ripe bananas

Method..

Mash bananas..add butter.
Mix well .Add beaten egg,sugar and vanilla and soda. Mix with wooden spoon well. Soda must be mixed well. Add ata. Mix. Bake in preheated oven at 180degrees till well browned and fork comes clean. About 40 minutes.
Cool. Cut into pieces.
Chew happily!

Homemade Jackfruit halwa

                                                      

I am a big lover of jackfruit halwa. No visit to Kerala ends without my buying at least a kilo of this , to gobble up on my return home.

The other day, Mom-in-law packed some not-very-ripe jackfruit for us to carry back. She didn't know what to do with it. "I'm making halwa,"I declared, without thinking.
I had no clue how to make it.

Yesterday I began. 
"Just eat it as it is..why go into this bother?" Hubby protested.
I was determined.
 The end result was simply delicious. 
Just like the store variety. Maybe even better. 
And it's so easy to prepare!

Ummmm...I just finished the last piece, hubby offered me so lovingly. Grateful, he didn't finish it off!

Here's my recipe.

Ingredients...

1 and half cups finely chopped jackfruit(seed discarded)
1 cup jaggery
a pinch of jaiphal powder
two tbsps ghee
two tbsps finely chopped cashewnuts

Method...

Melt the jaggery completely in a nonstick pan on medium heat. Add the jackfruit. Mix well. Remove into a mixie jar and grind to a fine paste. Now transfer the contents back on the pan and heat while stirring continually, till the paste begins to leave the sides of the pan.
Wow! Smells so good!
Now add the jaiphal powder, cashew and ghee and keep stirring till it becomes a thick lump without any moisture whatsoever.
Transfer it onto a greased plate. Spread evenly. Cool, refrigerate.
Cut into pieces and serve.
Tastes heavenly!

On Indiblogger road...

I began blogging in 2010. I penned down some memories after our very first school reunion. Simply because my sons prodded me to. So  I wrote about our kerala trip on my blogsite, 'My thoughts'..and loved the attention it received from my family. The reunion memoir connected me with my former, now greying classmates. Soon facebook happened and my interest in writing diminished, and eventually I stopped writing altogether till 2012, when I happened to log into a blogging site. I began and never looked back since( till last month. )I wrote around six hundred articles...and loved every moment of it. But my pals there left and new just-out-of-school kiddos joined the site. I began feeling left out. I had to leave, though it was tough. We were like family.

Scrolling down the net, I saw Indiblogger. Glancing through a few stories, I felt satisfied. I had arrived. I needed variety and boy! Did we have it here? Plenty!
The topics ranged from fashion to travel, cookery to technology, kids' stories to science fiction. Outstanding!
So I logged in. Having been turned down by another site a few day's ago, I wasn't sure I would be taken in.
Thank God, they didn't kick me out. I do look like an Indian, thankfully.

I sent in my blogs (beginning with two/three at a time...) , but I soon realized one post per day is a safe bet. The reason being-very few bloggers are privileged homemakers like me..and just cannot read all my posts in a single day!

I liked the networking of folk here, friends are made so easily. No jealousy/insecurity seen in anyone. Nice encouraging comments appear on posts, thankfully. I loved every write up I have read so far. I realized I have still miles to go before I can ever catch up with any of the folk here. Authors are experts in their various fields, no controversial topics are chosen, each one remains within his respective limits. Some bloggers seem to be around my age, I observed gleefully.

But I was a tad disappointed. I would like to see a lot more humor in the writings out here, sometimes one does come out with a sprinkling here and there, but could we have a blog simply dedicated to humor? Is laughing a crime?
I do want to begin my day laughing.
One more thing I noticed was a dearth of easy poetry. Simple,heartfelt lines. Some of them are so deep, I can't get head or tail of it.
Indibloggers love get togethers, I noticed. Something so rare on other sites.

So far so good. I just started my journey on Indiblogger road, but am enjoying it immensely!

Dumb belle no more!

                                       

Women don't really need to hit the gym. 
Here are some tips for the fittest you.
In exactly a month's time!

Stand next to the window, first thing in the morning. 
That is if you belong to any place other than Mumbai. 
Now, inhale. Smell the flowers? 
Don't forget to exhale.

Next, hold a huge pillow, a bolster's better. Hit your hubby with all your might. He's awake in a jiffy, eyes wide open. Laugh out aloud (at his puzzled face ). Laughing exercise numerous facial muscles.

Next, stand in your sunlit balcony. Do all asanas in full view of your neighbors.( To motivate them).
Collect coins thrown your way from admiring male viewers. (It's commercially viable too.)

Stand still for a few moments. Just look unblinkingly into the far distance. It's good for the eyes. 
If some dashing guy, a Prithviraj look alike, comes into your line of view, it's really not your fault.

Then, pound the tea masala in the mortar.. good for the muscles..sit down, enjoy your tea.
Let hubby have the paper..for a lil' feel good factor. And peace,

They've left, so take a deep breath, hitch saree up,  tuck it's pallu into your bulging waist, hold broom tight, bend forward...and begin cleaning the rooms corner to corner.
Wipe droplets of intense sweat beginning to form on your forehead, resist the urge to swear.

For ultra body toning, stand tiptoe, try to reach the topmost shelf. Dust objects with a clean cloth...without pause.
It really takes a good fifteen minutes or so.

Now, heave half a bucket of water, bend on all fours, press down with all your might. Mop the floor like Kanta bai.
You have to. If you wish to have those great abs.

Take some rest, or you'll faint. You've never worked so hard in all your life. 
A wave of new found love for Kanta bai now sweeps all over you.

Cooking over, take the soiled iron pan, brush it spotless. Prevents upper hand fat accumulation.
No bad words please.

Both hands laden with bags of vegetables from the nearby market..weightlifter style.. for well toned arms..(you can do without your martyr looks...that causes wrinkles)..
You get your full dose of vitamin D too.

In the evenings, walk outdoors briskly. Hands moving up and down, military style for added spectacular effect.
They'll think you've gone mad.

With thousands of rupees saved, with a katrina like figure, a little more compassionate are you now..
Certainly not the dumb belle you would have been..
Had you been to that silly Gym.

Over

                                                               
She traipsed into the room and seeing him sprawled on the sofa, laid the sheet over his slumbering body; that's when she discovered a long strand of hair tucked away on the inside of his collar (it wasn't his,she was sure). 

His cheeks wore traces of faded red lipstick and she noticed, he looked strangely good but reeked of alcohol, which he had never touched till..perhaps tonight.

Turning on his side, "Sara," he moaned ,"I love you so my darling."

Shocked completely out of her wits..she came to this one conclusion.

Sheela's twenty plus years of wedded bliss was over.

Charcoal painting..my new love

It is easy, inexpensive and fun.
Painting with charcoal.
Here are some samples...
(Try drawing some yourself..it's not tough!)

Vagabond

                      
He grew up quickly. 

Having learned the tricks of the trade, street smart and savvy, he got absorbed into the underworld like fish to water. 

He soon got into trouble with the law, was dragged numerous times into the police station, his buddies bailed him out, but he remained unfazed.

Soon his drinking got worse and he became a chronic alcoholic;thrown out of the accommodation he shared  with his live-in partner, disheveled and unshaven,  he began  living off the streets.

All because his Mom had abandoned him as an infant, she was a teen then;he had no anchor, no mooring, he turned out to be a vagabond.

Retreat

                     

He walked back slowly,as if in a daze,heart broken, his mind blank. He had prepared so hard for this interview, which would make his career in this top multinational company. Handsome, smart, well qualified, an engineer with an MBA to top it, he was sure he would just breeze through. 'Come in,' a familiar voice sang, as he knocked on the the door to the room where she sat, behind the big ebony desk with CEO written in bold letters on a placard kept on it. Their eyes met and he was dismissed immediately with a wave of her dainty hand without another word;she was his ex-girlfriend.
(5 sentence story)

Mai kaisi lagti hoon..

                    
'Mai kaisi lagti hoon?'asked this upcoming pretty young actress.
I happened to glance through her FB profile the other day.
'Wow.Kya baat hai!'
'Hot'.
'Super'.
The comments followed.

Then she would appear in another avatar.In the next photo.Another day.
'Ab mai kaisi lagti hoon?'
'Waaah'.

I scrolled down her page.She didn't have any other topic.But this.Sometimes a religious photo would wind its way in.
She is so pretty.I don't blame her.And the guys,her die hard fans.About 9000 of them.

But I wondered.Why did she not put in one intelligent post? Only pictures of herself in various outfits.She's plainly addicted to those comments,I realized.

But then,it came to me.How could I blame her?I would end up like the fox who couldn't reach the grapes,so it complained that it was sour and walked away.

To be honest,I wouldn't mind having so many fans myself.But not for my looks.Then I wouldn't be able to age gracefully.I'd have to botox myself every fortnight.Constantly worry about competition from other pretty young things.I'd have to look young,though actually I'm not.Like poor Shahrukh has to in his films.With comic results.

I really want to be known for wit,humor.Godly values,sheer humaneness.In my writings.But yet,I must admit.I am as vain as she is.
I do look for those red notifications.I'm kinda addicted to them.I love them when they're aplenty.They make my day.
I'm no different from her,I conclude finally.
'Mai kaisi likhti hoon?'

A saree state of affairs

Its the most versatile garment.Can make the plainest looking girl look drop dead gorgeous within minutes.

Saree's voted the most attractive garment in the world.It totally flatters your figure as none other can.
Sushmita Sen immortalized it, as the sexy,saree clad, chemistry teacher, whom Shahrukh found impossible to take his eyes off,without humming a tune,whilst imagining her twirling around in the breeze,hair flying,pallu waltzing in 'main hoon na'.
How lovely reel goddesses look,as they tiptoe down red carpeted aisles,hair cascading down their waist,kanjipuram or chiffon clad,then up the steps to collect their trophies!
Vidya Balan's my favorite.

Yet, to the uninitiated,wearing it can prove to be a complicated process.
I did have my struggling days after my marriage.Wearing it to functions ensured I began at least an hour in advance.Finally I'd walk with trepidation,fearing I'd trip somewhere and self consciously waltz along,neatly picking up the pleats a foot high,while climbing steps.
But the fear was always there.About when the darn thing would slip off,though I knew I had secured it everywhere with pins and all.
But the effort was worth it.Compliments did arrive.

Some time ago,short of time, I'd worn it carelessly.I regretted later.For the flimsy thing slipped off me,in public,to my utter embarrassment.Luckily,there were just a few of my friends around, who laughed at me.No males anywhere in sight.
I rushed to the rest room and did it all over again.

After years,I can now wear it confidently within minutes,though during some bad days,I'd still struggle. My poor hubby would patiently wait. And wait.
Nowadays he sighs at its mere mention. 'Oh,that? Just wear something else'.

Saree fascinates westerners.Leaving them totally stumped.I remember a white woman behind me in a queue at the airport,describing a saree clad woman in front of me to her male companions. 'She's worn a small shirt,to go along with the rest of her flowing attire.'
She meant the infamous blouse.

Saree has evolved over the years. Starched,crispy cottons,matched with long sleeved blouse, worn by old fashioned women of old have given way to flimsy chiffons, defeating the very purpose of a saree. Reveals more than it hides.
Designer blouses keep shrinking in size by the day. Backless variety is the latest norm.

How then can we poke a finger at a western woman, accusing her of seductive attire?
So much for our double standards.

Wearing a saree's truly an art at what to show, what not to.
Still it remains the most attractive attire on an Indian woman.
And the compliments keep coming.
And coming.

Masterpiece

 
I was shopping one day, when I came across this do-it-yourself kit, in the stationery section. Caught by the design on its front cover, I brought it home.

There was a thin, metal sheet inside, with an engraving tool neatly lying in its slot. A rough design could be visible on the sheet.

I couldn't wait. I picked up the tool and began carving out the already etched design onto the metal sheet. I had to scratch fine lines,and as I did, metal dust began to form, which I swept away with a damp cloth.
I continued carving. A petal became visible, then a flower..finally in an hours time the entire bunch of flowers.
All golden in color. Wow. I loved the effect.

It wasn't difficult. Only needed carving. Persistent.
I framed it and its now hanging on my wall.
'Did you do it?', they ask me, as I proudly nod my head in affirmation.

As I looked at the picture, a thought flashed through my mind. That God is trying out a pattern too in our lives.

He had a preplanned picture of us already in His mind, when we were created. He expects us to humbly yield ourselves to His hands, as He keeps busy carving out the already etched, unique design for each one of us.
We need to only trust Him, that He knows what He's doing and allow the process.

It's different from a painting where the colors can fade or be washed away.But engraving? Its permanent.
The process isn't easy. Its quite painful, lots of our ego will be have to be dealt with firmly.

Hardship in our lives would give way to some shades of grey here, some white there.
Overall the picture would be perfect.

If we keep our focus steady on Him, eventually He'd have a masterpiece in His hands!

The woman in yellow

It was a chilly,wintry December evening.We were at the station in Delhi,waiting to board the Rajdhani express.
My bro-in-law was to get engaged the next day in Mumbai.
The train arrived.People scrambled from all directions to get into the train.They know its not a Mumbai local,which starts in only a few seconds.So why this tearing hurry to get in? I wondered.

We found our way in.Discovering we had the side seats,(which we both hated),we soon parked our baggage under it.I held on to our two year old restless son,as hubby kept himself busy arranging our bags.
The people kept pouring into the A.C compartment.Peak holiday season,I supposed.A well dressed woman soon appeared.She was tall,dark with good features.Her lemon yellow saree with zari border was accentuated with gold around her neck.

A man,shorter in stature,was ahead of her.She bent low, and asked me our seat numbers. Satisfied,she moved on.
It was departure time.The train began moving slowly.
Looking outside,I saw this woman walking alongside the train on the platform.She seemed to be in a tearing hurry when she inquired of me,but now she's moving away,I wondered.
The train picked up speed quickly.The crowd had dwindled.We both relaxed in our seats.Hubby looked cool in his rich,brown overcoat.

We looked around.There was this Marwari family traveling with us.They were busy talking.
A good thirty minutes passed.My man suddenly got up from his seat and looked up at the berth above.
'The briefcase is missing',he declared in his quiet, unassuming tone.
'What?'
I couldn't believe.
'You mean to say,you kept your briefcase on top, just like that?' I queried.
'Yes',he replied with a sheepish look on his face.

The Marwari lady spoke up.She had seen a man clutching the briefcase handle as he stood in line to move on.He fit the exact description.

He was the woman's man.
The woman in yellow.
Her accomplice.
Their modus operandi-the attractive woman distracts a gullible victim,while the man walks away with the belongings.

The Marwari lady wasn't to be blamed.How could she possibly know the baggage was ours?
The T.C shrugged off our complaints.'Nothing can be done',he admitted.
I looked at my man.
'It's all because of your overcoat',I cried,exasperated.
'Of course not',he replied indignantly.How could his coat attract attention?

On estimation,we discovered we lost no cash,but the clothes he was to wear at the function the next day,a pair of leather slippers and a yashica camera.The camera's loss was rued,it was a good one.
We helplessly resigned ourselves to our fate.So cleverly conned by experts in the field.
I wonder where they are now.Are they still in operation?
Friends,do watch out if they ever come your way.


(p.s-pic of woman-for representation purpose only)

Like old wine

               
I'm going down memory lane
along path strewn with rose petals
though here n there a few thorns
life with you's been never really a pain.

They beckoned that we talk
When I first met you at our home
as we reached the room's door
was dumbstruck when you said,'Pehle aap'.

My heart said you're the one
we said yes,they went ahead
blessed by Him,wished by many
how quickly things were done.

Life began on high note
hasn't diminished a wee bit 
cause you my precious
haven't changed a bit,I vote.

I remember on that train
when rough guys barged in
I began to cry,they left me
as soon as you called out my name.

Now we were three,then four
you learned your job so well
feed them,change them
so I could rest my back so sore.

So practical,always looking ahead
very discerning
you knew people instantly
while I by feelings was led.

I look for words in your silence
am now adept at noting every frown
only your beautiful smile
can speak of volumes so very dense.

Out on work,you go outstation
how I miss you,honey
each day,every second
becomes so difficult to mention.

You working so hard, 
I not as much
but you tell me
to this pay no regard.

You're gentle,so caring
I the queen,you the king
are words I reply
to those who ask how I'm faring.

Years have passed
our love still grows
as old wine gets sweeter
am sure very long it'll last.

No words can truly say
how much you mean to me
my sweetheart,my hubby
you truly make my day!

Audience of One

                       
She rummaged through the pile of debris.
Finding it ,she took it in her loving arm..
Held it there for as long as she could.
After a good 45 minutes had passed,it breathed its last.

Hot tears flowed down her cheeks as she bent.
To blend the dead body again with the trash.
Her misdemeanor soon discovered,
She was fired. She dared to disobey orders.

She had worked in this nursing home,actually an abortion clinic.
Watched scores of unborn babies mauled to death.
Some women brought in late, still had it done.
If the baby refused to be out as desired, it was cut into pieces and removed from the mother's womb.

Brutal,isn't it? isn't fiction,but real. 
Happening simultaneously in abortion clinics all over this nation.
Thanks to its draconian law supporting abortion.
Murder of millions of unborn innocents,numbering easily the population of U.K.

The crowd cheered.Their leader smiled.
Waved his arms,back on the podium.
His intelligence,his rhetoric probably got him in.
Little did they realize,he had blood on his hands.

The audience clapped.
The nations clapped.
But One looked away, 
His Maker.

The flowers,the accolades would soon wither,brickbats could come his way.
Then why did he so crave for man's approval?
He'd played to the gallery
Instead of performing to the audience of One.