Night raiders

While modiji fights his war against black money, here I am fighting this silent war against ...black cockroaches!
No pest control, no boric acid surreptitiously mixed in ghee laced ata, no spray ever ' hit's them..they seem absolutely immune!
They appeared suddenly one fine night and truly obedient to God's word have " gone forth and multiplied".
We tried thrashing them with our chappals..thappp..thappp..goes our chorus  at eleven each night, when we suddenly switch on the kitchen light.
Some were beaten to pulp..others learned a new trick..hide themselves immediately in narrow trenches against the wall like soldiers..so that nothing gets to them.
They dip themselves into the oil( they believe in naturopathy), dive shamelessly into any food  in vessels kept even a millimeter wide open..They come dangerously near my cutting tray as I chop veggies. They aren't even afraid of me!
I began scrubbing the kitchen platform clean with soap, ripping the crevices free from trapped food particles, cementing open cracks in the vain hope they don't come in for crumbs. That is when they began invading the fridge.
Modiji gets mad at black money hoarders, I get mad at these night raiders.
They exasperate me.
 I stopped inviting guests and if they do pop into my kitchen suddenly, I learned to use ingenious ways to hide them from their view. So a pan " accidentally" slips from my hand, the gas burner suddenly gets shifted and so on.
I tried everything..
So finally am trying prayer!

Trees

They fascinate me. I paint them on canvas or complete them in charcoal.

The branches look so seductive. The shades of brown, light and deep brown...
Leaves in light and yellow greens dance merrily displaying ample sunshine.
Flowers in huge bunches..in yellows and whites and deep reds, tempting my fingers no end.

There's one  lunging at me near my balcony. A mango tree. Delicious raw green mangoes hanging in clusters make my mouth water. Time to make some of those
 pickles,  panna laced with chat masala or even that fabulous, gooey murabba.

Summer's in full swing. A variety of small, big, coloured birds sing. Perched high on the topmost branch, perfectly balanced, they sing a sombre, summer song. One bird goes 'ahhh...ahhhhhh' in the afternoons. As if in real, real pain. Crows do a caw caw endlessly. A gun shot somewhere..and cawcawcaws multiply a thousand times.

The tree is embroiled in deep mystery. How does it survive with no water? How does it remain strong unswayed by stormy winds? Does it really cry when it's cut away..sap oozing out?

Trees embody strength and courage in terrible adversity.
They mystify me..
captivate me..
motivate me..
and elevate me.

Mishti woman

Yeah. I call her that. She was a sweet( mishti..in Bengali) woman who lived in our building years ago. A working woman, she had two sons and an elderly woman to look after the younger one. The two women looked poles apart. The one, calm and dignified..the other real uncouth, hair in a mess and spoke funny Hindi.

What I found amazing about the mishti woman, was that she always smiled. That super sweet mesmerising smile that could floor anyone. She sang at functions in her melodious voice accompanied by her harmonium. She was always in a sari and sleeveless blouse.

If you looked closely at her, you would notice that she was almost bald.. She had literally no hair..except thinning hair going down the sides of her head. Perhaps she suffered from thyroid. She never spoke of it. She wore no wig, didn't crib..never weaved any hair back. 
Serene and secure, she focused instead on her strengths.
Her smile. Her voice. Her accomplishments.

She left our place long ago..but her smile remains with me.
The strong, mishti woman..

Embarassed colleague

We were about to leave this guest house in Coimbatore after breakfast one morning, years ago, on our way to our son's new college where he had taken admission, when my hubby's colleague suddenly appeared on the scene.

He looked at our sons..then at me.( I was dressed in a red top and trousers, with short hair to match).

" Your daughter?" he asked hubby.

" My wife", declared hubby, with a glint in his eye.

The colleague went red like a beetroot, excused himself..and fled.

I don't know about my husband..

but he surely had made my day!

The good looker

I was heavily into fb those days, trying to reconnect with my old classmates, just after a long awaited reunion. When one day, this lone, red friend request button signaled my immediate attention.
Clicking on it, I found a very good looking young man vying to be my friend.
At least I thought so.
He looked sideways in the picture, with a half smile that lit up his chiseled features.

I accepted without hesitation. Going through his profile, I found him to be a popular guy. He had lots of friends.
Wow. Nice to have a friend like him.
He had an attractive personality.
I feel quite drawn to him.

One day finding him online, I decided albeit warily to have a little chat. I learned he was an ayurvedic doctor based in Kerala. At least something in common with him, I thought, being a mallu myself.
He seemed friendly..why else would he talk to a complete stranger like me.  He talked about his work. He must be ever surrounded with female patients, I thought. 

In answer to his query where I was put up, I replied, "Well,quite close to movie stars, you know."
His ears perked up, now he was curious. "How far, where do they live?"
I quickly changed the topic. I really wasn't into filmi stuff then.

Suddenly he logged off, without even a bye.
How arrogant!
We had no interaction since then.
To add insult to injury, one day he unfriended me. 
It wasn't a good feeling, though I quickly got over it.

Months passed. One day chancing upon his name on a friend's post, I got back to his profile. Only to see a dark young man in the picture instead of the friend I had got to like.

A thought flashed through my mind. Checking out the net, I found my old friend back!
But he was a celebrity. I didn't know that. An upcoming malayalee actor then,now is a famous guy down south.
Prithviraj!

How embarrassing! 
I turned red as a beetroot. All this while I had been friends with a man who posed as an actor.
I laughed and laughed.

I'm now a movie buff.
Heavily into his movies.
Prithviraj's.

Inspiring

He's humble
he's simple
 Clad in shirt n pant
Doesn't shout or rant
My doorbell he rings
 'Bread!' he sings
If I say 'no'
 unhappiness won't show
He'll wait n wait
Even though I'm late
He's never rude
Whatever my mood
For 500 he has change
Somehow will arrange
Come rain or sun
He'll bring in the bun
He's always smiling
My bread wallah inspiring.

Special students

They studied with us . 
German.
They paid no fees..simply sauntered into class at will. We protested, teachers did too, but to no avail.
They just needed open doors. That's all. 
Last year a dark guy used to attend class. He would rush in like wind, find the spot closest to the teacher and snooze away to oblivion. He never answered a single question.
But he knew all...(having attended these lectures umpteen times in the past).
We hated him..some feared for their lives. Sometimes Ma'am couldn't concentrate. So somebody would rise up with biscuits in hand and bribe the shabby fellow out through the same door he came in.
He has numerous cousins, mostly students. When I did my first year, a very fair but extremely unwashed fellow, a consistent latecomer would dash in, curl into a sleeping position and sleep throughout. The instant Ma'am finished, he would run out at top speed.
These guys are well qualified. They start from basic level.. some go on to complete their Phds.
As a rule, they need not give exams.
But an ambitious guy appeared in our class this year to write his finals. Obviously people next to him couldn't concentrate. He wouldn't understand " GO." 
Finally a girl summoned up enough courage and went to the front of the class..
"You..you..you..you"..she whispered beseechingly, desperately to the fellow. Loud enough for us to hear.
He slowly rose up, ran down the steps..and simply stood in front of her..and stared.
He stared..and stared. 
We paused holding our breath. We stared. 
Finally this crazy dog decided to call it a day.
He fled.

The call that changed all

She was beautiful. Her cheek shyly displayed a dimple when she smiled. And that she did often. He fell in love with her instantly.
She had that something about her that drew people to her magnetically. So full of energy, she bounced like a ball up and down. With a heart for cooking..they shared the same passion. She was into art and crafts. He into sport. He worked as VP in a multinational. She gave tuitions.

One fine day he proposed. She rejected. Outright. A tad disappointed, but never one to give up he proposed again...several months later.
This time she said," yes".
He, so overjoyed, told his family. She, hers.
The engagement was fixed for the following month. They now were often seen together. At movies, shopping,  at eating joints. Always holding hands. Her photos appeared on his FB page, his on hers.
They seemed..so made for each other.
He couldn't stop smiling.

 Till one day...

when the phone rang. 

They wanted to make sure he would be willing to join their family business.

His parents said, " No". They wanted their son doing what he did.

Misunderstandings followed.

The engagement was called off.

He stopped smiling.

Months later she found a man...got married.

He decided to stay single.

Forever.


(Post written for indispire..
"Just when everything started looking fine, the phone rings.. [Build a story

#TringTring)

Sky is high

'Hey,  just say 'why', my friend interrupted me.
'Why'.
'Because the sky is high', she laughed gleefully and ran away.
One more Bakra.
We often did this silly thing when we were small kids.

I was often in the habit of asking God, 'Why?'
Why did that young lady I briefly saw in the hospital cry? Why did my friend lose her hubby in an accident? Why?
Why did this wonderful Ma'am die all of a sudden? She used to teach so well.
 Why did this humble man of God, so close to us, have to leave this world .. so young?

As I pondered over these questions, it suddenly dawned on me, 'Because the sky is high.'

It was like He was telling me, "My thoughts are not your thoughts..neither are your ways my ways. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, So are My ways higher than your ways And My thoughts than your thoughts.…"

There are things happening around me and  in my life I would never understand...
with my finite mind. So instead of asking questions, I must leave the answers with Him.
It's too high for me.
I would know the answers when I meet Him one day.

So now I don't ask 'why'...
because I know the sky's high.

Morning walk

Wow.
I really enjoyed my walk this morning. I normally walk in the evenings, but as I opened my balcony door this morning, I saw a young girl running around the building.

That prodded me on. I changed and as the heavy aroma of my hubby's famous simmering ginger tea filled the house, I rushed downstairs, armed with my mobile and earphones. I began walking. The air was scented with Jasmine. It was fresh and cool, the heat of the day had not yet set in.
The nightshift watchmen changed clothes, changed guard. They looked different in civilian clothes. A middle-aged couple walked in my direction. They seemed to have done many rounds already. The young girl in the tracksuit seemed to have disappeared.

An elderly looking bespectacled man in a dark T-shirt and shorts walked briskly toward me. I changed course, gave him right of way.
He writes very well. He must be gathering ideas for the the day, I surmised. My phone conked off suddenly. Irritatedly I fidgeted with it, till it started again. This on off game continued for quite some time, till I finally gave up.

The couple had called it a day. He pulled down the overhanging Jasmine shrub, as the wife filled the tiny plastic bag with these white flowers. She kept looking over her shoulder at the fellow washing the car around the corner. Or was she afraid someone would catch them at it?

Some more rounds around the building, and I was done. It was the freshest feeling I have had in a long time.
I had worked up an apetite.
Time for my tea.
 I'm doing this every morning.

I'm in love

I admit I'm in love! Pure love so unadulterated. Unabashed and filtered of all impurity.
I see him every evening. Standing at his balcony. So cute and fair, he stares as if at me.
I want to say hi, but then he quickly disappears back into his room. I refuse to leave my pose until he appears again.
He looks out again as if searching for me. Then stares into the distance as if planning his next move.
I keep looking. If only he'd look my way! I'd blow him a kiss. I wish so much to grab him, lock him in my arms.
But something distracts his attention..must be more important than me.
Then I hear some sounds below, there he is!
Enjoying himself thoroughly.
His sister a year older cycling her tricycle..
and this chubby little fella running, running to catch her!!!

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)