As I See It

Think So?

2012-01-15T10:48:00.000-08:00

Freedom- a word we use so often. We talk about it all the time. Being free is what we all wish for one way or another- for it is in our history , in our blood and in our struggle on a daily basis to get hold of the reins of our life: to steer it as we may please.
In the end, it is safe to presume that we all have our own interpretations of freedom!

What I am concerned about is being free where it matters most- up in my head. Liberty to me is the freedom of my mind and of my thoughts- for they alone define who I am.

And I am only as exclusive or as commonplace as are my thoughts.

My beliefs and my biases, my attitude and my attributes, my vanity and my vices and most importantly my dreams and my desires- they are all born out of the way I was taught to think, raised and molded in the years when it mattered the most.

So then, do I think freely? Do any of us?

I have never been able to understand what makes one’s thoughts truly 'free'- I wonder if that is nothing more than just a myth! Who are those ‘free thinkers’ we hear about so often? Is it even possible to rid our thoughts of their underlying prepossessed notions?

Or is the act of thinking freely merely being unaffected by 'how' society may perceive us to be and not caring one bit about 'who' we come across as to our fellow beings?

Is being free the same as being brave then? Or is it that only the brave can be truly free?

That brings me to the question that has been doing the rounds in my head all day long- Am I true to my thoughts or am I an infidel cheating on them with my actions? Am I being truly me and living my best life yet?

Am I truly free?

I wonder :)

Fruits of Memory

2012-01-06T14:15:00.000-08:00

'Associative memory' is a tricky thing. As I popped in a black seedless grape a few minutes ago, a big chunk of long forgotten memories rushed into my head. Memories that just bore fruit- and how!

As a school kid, lunch time was always fun. We seldom ate our own lunches as we preferred to dig right into our best friend’s ‘Tiffin’. 'She' always got a side of seedless green grapes for lunch- all of which I happily devoured as she lovingly bit into sandwiches, noodles or rice that waited for her inside my yellow lunch box.

Plums, pears and peaches bear testament to the period in time when I was at my athletic best. Years when I’d climb trees and hand-pick the fruits of my choice!

Oranges somehow always remind me of my granny and the winter afternoons in Pedong when she would skin and painstakingly de-seed them before feeding me- the juiciest and tastiest citrus fruit I have ever had. Or at least that is what my brain tells me now.

Still in the lap of the Himalayas, I remember chewing onto diced bits of sugarcane before spitting them out. Strange as it sounds, these sugary slices of goodness always take me to the countryside where I spent a great deal of my childhood years. One would think it should bring to my mind the plains and hot weather, but they certainly do not!

Mangoes, on the other hand, do just that! They bring back memories of Guwahati and the sweltering summer heat. Humid, rainy and hot, the summer months were when I feasted on crates of mangoes, never seeming to get enough of them. It also reminds me of a mango tree I had once planted in Shillong- stunted, pale and one that stopped growing after a few years of its conception.

Short lived but sumptuous, my mind associates Leechies specifically to those years in my life when Daddy was posted in Tezpur and an uncle of mine worked in Muzzafarpur. Yes, the 'Leechie Capitals' of India and maybe even the world! I remember my days of gluttony (strictly with respect to Leechies) when I consumed them to the point of terrible belly aches!

Funnily enough, watermelons bring to mind an advertisement for a particular brand of refrigerator. Was it Kelvinator or Godrej? I honestly cannot recollect!

Apples are synonymous with orchards in Shimla and my friend in Delhi who’d bring me a crate full of them every time she went home! That is about it- the journey abruptly comes to an end here.

As for the ‘exotic variety’- the earliest memories of which come from weddings and parties hosted by the ‘well to dos’- I simply remember them as 'The Gourmet Fruits': names of which I still do not know.

Food For Thought

2011-10-13T17:19:00.000-07:00

The uphill trek to that cart parked atop our lane was a routine activity back in the day. Being the youngest member of the family, I was always put up to the task of bringing home some freshly fried ‘Samosas’ and the trademark ‘Pudina Chutney’ from the ‘Thela-Wala’.

As is the case with most of us, street food and I go back a long way. Nothing can match up to the taste of the deep fried goodies I had access to when the Goddess visited us every year. Straight from the stale oil and right into my belly- Divine! The occasional episode of a troubled tummy was good enough to curb my enthusiasm for only as long as the bug lasted.

Delhi opened my eyes and my belly to a whole different culinary world. I have made many a trips to the famed ‘Paranta Zones’ all around the city-as a student and a corporate woman, both. I should mention these trips heeded to neither time nor season. Does anything come close to the 'Nookad ki chai'? The tea lover, or rather addict that I am, that 'cuppa chai' hasn’t disappointed me thus far.

The ‘Dabelis’ and ‘Wada Paos’ I regularly treated myself to during my time in Pune were some of the best I have ever had. Needless to mention, the ‘Pao Bhaji’ reigned supreme!

And now, in New York, things are pretty much the same. Delicious Gyros, Falafal and Chicken over Rice work wonders on my taste buds every single time I stop at a cart.

Street Food is the Grub I love-by far!

It is quite understandable then, that be it anywhere in the city, I am always at homeJ

Home Invaders!

2011-05-31T12:54:00.000-07:00

The dictionary defines planking as a covering or flooring constructed of planks. This happens to be the structural science behind the old earthquake proof houses that dominated the architectural landscape of Shillong for a long time. A colorful tin roof and a wooden floor more or less sums up the look of it.

Commonly referred to as an ‘Assam Type’ , the house where I grew up was one such piece of construction. The raised platform between the earth and the floor, all thanks to the planking, was therefore a shelter for many a family of mutts during my growing up years. I witnessed generations of stray dogs call it home as it was a safe haven for them to procreate and bring up the future progeny. Safe from harsh natural elements the little pups did well and survived when they ordinarily would not have. Except the occasional ill tempered dogs that my dad and uncle chased away using little rounded pebbles as ammunition, we shared a peaceful coexistence with our neighbors downstairs.

As most of us know, composting is the decomposition of organic waste and a compost pit, locally called a Gadda, was a permanent fixture in all the houses in our locality. The final byproduct, compost, did wonders for our yards and gardens. An efficient and scientific process, it did more than just that.

Meal time visits from felines and canines who greedily gorged on the leftovers in the pit created a bond between the kids and the daily guests, some of whom (mostly cats), found their way into my cousin’s hearts and finally into our home. Chaos ensued as the food chain effect took over and the dog - eat- cat - eat - mouse game turned real as we witnessed corpses of the lower animals way more often than we would have liked to. While the dead mice lying around the compound only triggered high pitched shrieks of disgust in us young Roys, the lifeless and mutilated bodies of the ‘pet’ cats triggered tears of sorrow and pain, and the mourning period lasted till the time a new kitty scavenging the pit was brought home.

An old house with it’s cracks and crevices is a favorite destination for bees to reside in and they hardly waste time building a mighty crib. It is almost always too late by the time it gets noticed. Our house was no exception to this and we had to deal with multiple bee hives which frequently grew to the size of soccer balls. After an intolerable number of attacks, it was time to fight back. Getting rid of these gigantic clumps of beeswax involved intricate planning. Hours of discussions and days of preparation later, the hives would be approached by the elders holding flaming kerosene torches in their well protected hands (read gloves and plastic sheathing), full sleeved shirts (with skivvies underneath) cello taped to where they met the gloves, track pants taped to sports shoes and to top it off, a cricket helmet protecting their ski mask covered faces with sun-shades to complete the look! Not an inch of skin was ever exposed. Surprisingly, the strategy worked and the bees would usually swarm out and the hive would be destroyed. I still like to believe it was the scary attire and not the blazing flame that did the trick.

Be it the skinny brown dog poking his head into the hedge trying to find a way into the garden or the hair less black one running away with one of my white canvas shoe a day before the school drill; the cats which showed us real time what a cat fight really meant or the nasty stinging bees that brought out the brilliant war tactic planners in our elders; I owe all these memories to the old house I grew up in!

Good, bad and out rightly ugly, some of the most amazing experiences are indeed born out of the most ordinary circumstances.

Toy Story

2011-05-19T15:12:00.000-07:00

Much like everyone else, my relationship with toys goes back a long way , right into my formative years as a child. All of us have certain memories wrapped around them spanning over a number of interesting juvenile years of joy.

My earliest memory is that of a huge teddy bear I never named. It was way bigger than I was, black with red limbs. My good friend and neighbor was terrified of him and I never missed an opportunity to scare her away every time I felt like it. We did not stay friends’ very long thanks to the recurrent victimization she time and again endured at the hands (or maybe paws) of yours truly.

A military green colored noisy machine gun lived on me, literally! I always had it slung across my waist using a chord of black wool; ever ready to pull the trigger and buzz the life out of those predatory house lizards. The sight of them running for life, zigzagging all across the wall was my very first taste of sadistic pleasure. The fact that they scare the life out of me now is a different story altogether, the evolution of which I have failed to trace.

There was a phase when I was gaga over rag dolls. Plain white sheets stuffed with cotton, stitched, painted and finally dressed with whatever assortment of multicolored fabric mum had to spare. The final product was of course no competition to the `oh so plastic’ Barbie who turned into my best bud just a couple of years down the line.

I could never have enough of them be it the ultra modern kitchen and bath, the classy furniture and the gadgets, the beautiful clothes and the grooming products or the many avatars she came in- fashion as I never knew it had found its way into my life. My only regret for a very long time was not being able to bring home a Ken doll. In hindsight, I may have been the only one looking!

Before the Barbie madness descended, the locally manufactured dolls were my prized possessions. From handsome Genie to good looking Julie and Indu, the villain Ranka, the sidekick Kumbi and the vamp Bindu-my cast for the endless doll games was complete. I stitched them the prettiest clothes, jazzed up their saris with lace and glitter and strung together colorful beads thus making them beautiful pieces of jewelry. I had a little tin trunk that held my treasures. I kept it locked and have no honest recollection of when and how I grew over it (Barbie dolls perhaps)

The best part was the annual ritual we girls had- doll weddings- the ceremony was nothing short of a real one and my dad was forced to clear out the garage which doubled up as the wedding hall. It was duly decorated with colorful streamers on the ceiling and freshly plucked flowers on the walls-the guests trickled in with gifts for the newlyweds. Upon solemnization, it was in order for the invitees to feast on the innumerable items of food laid out on the table. We discussed doll issues and the potential bride and groom for the following season were picked.

I did have a huge collection of cars, trucks, jeeps and other automobiles which came into play as and when my dolls needed some mode of transportation.

Miniature versions of kitchenware filled with petals, water, flour, turmeric and yes, mud, kept me occupied for hours as I would entertain `visitors’ and feed them over and over again.Staying indoors was so much fun despite the fact that I loved running around the colony unleashed.

I cherish the imaginary world of wonder I had built for myself as a child.It undoubtedly goes to prove there is so much magic in mere thoughts, the potential to create undying amazement and marvel.

This really is an ode to those long forgotten companions who made those years unforgettable and possibly are the ones who instilled in me my almost insatiable appetite for imagination.

A toast to our toys!!

Food For Thought

2011-05-05T11:57:00.000-07:00

As the first rays of the rising sun kissed the neighboring mountains, the inhabitants of the valley, would by force of habit, rise and march right into the arms of what seemed like a promising day.

The village grew abuzz with a plethora of activities. The concoction of sounds ranged from the clanking of tea mugs to the clucking of hens; and this almost always would be around the time I woke up.

I liked my share of breakfast eggs half boiled and as soon as I was done washing up, I would accompany my granny to the coop and pick up freshly laid eggs, much to the respite of the hen who would finally stop calling out to me (or so I thought she did till I was much older). I clearly remember how beautiful the brown shelled eggs looked sitting in a basket in a corner table in the kitchen.

Minutes later, a huge jug of milk would arrive at our doorstep. My grand uncle had a large number of cows in his shed and my cup of milk would come from any one of them depending on who was milked first in the morning. I religiously fed all the cows a stem of their favorite local fauna everyday as a way of thanking them for their kindness and in the process staring into their big beautiful eyes and also noticing what big nostrils they had.

I spent my mornings playing with the other children in the crop fields or on the hilltop doing anything at all be it climbing trees, getting into the goat shed, feeding the pigs or simply running around.

We plucked whatever fruits we felt like feasting on; guavas, pears and avocados being my favorite. The pear trees were tricky to scale and we kids always turned for help to any one of the many uncles and brothers we had.

A small scrawny shrub bore the most delectable berries I have ever tasted. Red, small and seeded, I can almost taste them now as I revisit my memories of it.

Except sugarcane, which I was fed peeled, washed and cubed, pretty much every other fruit available was consumed in its most natural state.

Our farms were abundantly rich and besides paddy, which was the main product, we had huge fields lush with the growth of peas, corns, potatoes and smaller gardens whose soil nourished sweet potatoes, carrots, radish, cabbage, pumpkin and a variety of leafy greens.

Lunch time was always fun and if not at my granny’s place then it was at at any one of the houses around where my grand aunties lovingly fed me for I was a food lover even at that age.

The wooden stools I sat on, the earthen stove with logs in them burning bright to keep the fuel going and the heap of ash below kept me engaged and I would often gaze into the fire looking for shapes and figures to feed my imagination as my belly waited for its own.

The nurturing food would often be accompanied by pickles made out of wild fruits , many of which are still my favorite.

I would usually be back home by tea time post which I settled in for the day. Television was a luxury back then and dinner time was seemingly candle lit courtesy the dim lit light bulb no brighter than a flickering candle. A kerosene lamp always came to our rescue; it even had a lever we could use to manage its intensity before finally shutting it down as we called it a day.

The distant cry of wolves resonated throughout the hills; the denizens deep in slumber a little while after the sun had gone down; until tomorrow, when a new dawn would beckon.

Sound Sleeper

2011-02-06T11:55:00.000-08:00

Sleep is inescapable and no matter who we are and which part of the world we come from, in a strange way, the somber slumber brings us closer as a kind.

We must admit, a major influence in our sleep pattern is the sound that surrounds us, the noise that reaches us; ranging from a hullabaloo to uninterrupted silence.

As my head hit the pillow last night, this very though came to mind and I made a mental note of sharing my memories with you.

As a kid in Shillong, the nights were tranquil, quiet and peaceful, interrupted only by the footsteps of the neighbor’s spoilt teenage brat, walking down the lane well after 9 P.M. This most certainly was followed by the reverberation of a severe admonishment coming from the house a few plots away. A welcome break from the monotone of the night’s stillness.

The melodious pitter patter of the rain drops hitting the tinned roof was the reigning champ, unsurpassable in its beautiful resonance.

Pedong was similar to Shillong except that the thunder was louder and the crackling noise when lightning struck would echo back from the open valleys and last longer than usual.

From the hills of Shillong to the plains of Guwahati; this change introduced a whole new world of night time symphony to me. The rain drops seemed to have lost their tonality and an orchestra of toads played along every time the monsoon visited. The ducks were not far behind and added on to the cacophony of hectic late night sessions.

Fortunately, mankind limited itself to drunken revelry.

Delhi was next. My initial few months were devoid of any sleep. Thankfully my body adapted to the constant din around me; I grew immune to the blaring horns, dog fights, cat calls, family fiascoes, door slams and cries of broken hearts and new born babies. Hard to admit but it was difficult for me to feel well rested going to bed without this granddaddy of all lullabies.

Change has struck yet again and I find it hard to sleep uninterrupted by wailing sirens of cop cars, ambulances and more commonly, the fire fighter’s late night drive bys’.

My tip for a sound sleep? Play around with the sounds that surround!!

Nice Doing Business With You!

2011-01-11T14:27:00.000-08:00

A while back in my kitchen, the thought of getting the blunt knife in my hand back in shape brought back a vivid recollection of a long forgotten enterprise: that of the ‘Dhaar Waala’-ambitiously riding his bicycle equipped with the bulky sharpening stone calling out to the housewives frustrated with their ill performing knives pretty much like I was moments ago.

For a buck or two, he would glaze all the kitchen knives along the stone’s edge, sparks flying, and shades in place and voila! as good as brand new-job well done. I so enjoyed watching him perform this very important task.

Music to my ears then was these five words `Har Ek Maal Do Rupiya’ these men were fondly called the `Harekmaals’ by the entire neighborhood. At least, that is what we kids started calling him and the lingo caught on with the elders too. Usually in pairs, these tall men carried on their heads, the weight of what I like to believe, was a Pandora’s Box for little people like me. One could find anything and everything in there and we wide eyed kids would surround him as he enthusiastically unraveled a world of joy to us! We were at liberty to pick any item- plastic toys, bangles, mini utensils, bindis- and each item cost the same. No wonder our folks did not mind spoiling us with goodies he brought us.

For entertainment, we had Hemamalini and Dharmendra- two tiny primates who never failed to crack us up - kids and adults alike. The rhythmic drumming noise associated with this mobile circus of two ensured a gradual collection of an eager crowd out in their compounds awaiting their turns to be amused. Often, neighbors from the adjoining houses would walk up or down the lane and catch the show as a larger group. The `Bandar Waala’ dressed the celebrity duo different every time he visited- colorful, vibrant and of course, classy!

Mishti Doi (Sweet Curd) in my locality was synonymous with the name `Sunil Ghosh’. I have not tasted better curd till date. In his white dhoti and starched white vest, he bore on his shoulders what many of us would eventually crown the king of all Mishti Doi. Was it a special recipe, some secret proportions or were the earthen pots which he sold them in responsible for the heavenly taste? We shall never know. I remember he charged extra if you wanted to keep the earthenware and had to pay a fine if you delayed return when he came knocking at your door to collect and recycle the same. Nonetheless, he made mealtime so much better.

The grownups never had to bother buying mattresses because the `Tushok Ala’ (mattress guy) would religiously visit every summer, walking the lane, strumming his instrument announcing his arrival and thereby relieving the people of the hood of bed time woes. It would always be sunny when he came calling; often with an associate/trainee to help him out. He would make himself comfortable on the lawn and noisily go about fluffing and stuffing mattresses. A month or two later,all the denizens of the locality would finally sleep soundly.

This write up doubles up as an ode to such industries, these and others like them. Despite their quirks, the mindless haggling and the seemingly forgettable presence then, I am pleasantly surprised to realize how well I remember those moments even after all these years. An everlasting impression of sorts.

I bet many of us have had our fair share of encounters with such `businesses’ and most of us might concur that it was indeed nice doing business with them!

Christmas Wonderland

2010-12-05T09:08:00.000-08:00

Christmas is here!!

The season entails much merry making, high spirits, good cheer and an atmosphere of positivity; personally, a bit of nostalgia every December fills me up with bitter sweet memories and in the end a sense of gratitude for all that has been.

December has always been my favorite month. My affinity for winters developed during my school years in Shillong. I owe that to an almost three month long winter vacation before a new school year begun! No more home works, no exams and a long journey to what was my favorite destination then-Pedong-to indulge in the festivities with my Granny.

I vividly remember being welcomed by the faint aroma of the Nepalese staple Christmas Bread called `Sel-Roti’. Walking uphill to my Granny’s quaint brick-laned house lined with sweet pea plants and rose-bushes, the anticipation of tasting some freshly fried bread never failed to tremendously whet my appetite.

Christmas was a time for family reunions-uncles, aunts and cousins- from all around would trickle in over the course of the week adding on to the constant prattling, chortles and the 'merry' hubbub.

Never did we have to buy a tree since the land was blessed with them growing abundantly in the wilderness! A snip here, a cut there and the tree would come to life! The box with the Christmas tree ornaments from last year would 'magically' come out of its cache which we kids would dig into and then happily spend hours doing up the tree. The red and blue shiny orbs, the golden and silver balls, the cherubs, the turtle doves, the stars and everything glittery we could get our hands on. In the end little tony bulbs would be wrapped around the sweet smelling, piny green exterior marking the end of our tree styling activity!!

At a much younger age, I recollect waking up on Christmas day to find a bag of goodies hanging from the bed post- I believed in Santa and his Reindeers, in writing him a note every winter and in gnomes, elves, angels and fairies alike! And there was a time I was gifted a Santa mask which I refused to take off all day and that, paired with my red coat made me believe I was Claus's little helper.

Interestingly,Poinsettia- the red Xmas flower- was also a part of the local flora. Needless to say, bunches of it would be cut and placed in huge vases in homes to add on to the seasonal embellishments!

Come early evening, we kids would run out in groups and go Caroling to our neighbor’s,patiently accepting cash, candies and food. The night ended with a lot of food, dance, games , unwrapping presents and a midnight mass for those of us who could make it downhill before the final sound of the carillon; braving the cold in bright new clothes.

Christmas infallibly reminds me of the days spent amidst loved ones, many of whom have passed. A good friend recently quoted `The thing about moments is that they are never forgotten’- Indeed! Those we love live on in these reflections, in these visitations allowing us to relive some great memories.

It is true what is said about Christmas - Love, Gratitude, Joy and Family- that is all there is to it and that is all we really need!

Wish YOU a Very Merry One!

Nothing 'NEW' about it!

2010-12-03T19:16:00.000-08:00

When I moved to Delhi in 2002, I fell in love with it. Instantly! I am still unable to single out attributes I owe this connection to. Try as I may, I never can; the factors at work are varied. It is true what is said about cities- the energies and vibes are contagious. Despite the sweltering summer heat, the freezing winter chill and the incessant monsoon showers, I would never trade my college life for any other city. Those three years encompassed bustling market places, cheap eating joints, DTC buses, occasional auto rickshaw rides, precious friendships, falling in love, PVRs, bouts of viral fever-ahh! A little bit of everything!

After working there for three years, the bond only grew stronger. I love Delhi in its entirety. It has been a magical charm of sorts for me.

And now, after nine months in NYC, it is safe to say, it’s had the same effect. It’s been like `Delhi’ all over again! Love at first sight.

From all that I have seen, the people are wonderful and have always gone out of their way to help me-be it the cops I have approached for direction or the strangers on the road – I am in awe of the general hospitality this city offers.

The vibes are happy and the energy uplifting. There is warmth around, a blanket of generosity; the edifices are imposing yet humble, the buzz is loud yet soothing.

It’s a mini globe in itself; people from almost all around the world call it their home. And no matter how long or short my stay here is, it will always be special to me.

On a lighter note, here is a list I have come up with on the similarities the two cities share :)

Options: be it food or attire, one can buy it off carts on the roadside or head to exclusive stores in the innumerable malls and shopping streets; ranging from the most ordinary to the most bizarre!

Three is a number: Similar to our concept of NCR, the Tri-State area here includes New York, New Jersey and Connecticut- and yes, a lot of interstate travel takes place daily for work, business and pleasure!

Taxis: This is my favorite part. We have yellow cabs like we do in Delhi-and interestingly, Indian cab drivers too. Thus, the rash Delhi driving experience is just a wave away. Even better, the fact that the fares are quite high elevates it further to the level of Saddi Dilli.

Traffic: Driving around Manhattan is as great a luxury as driving in South Delhi traffic, read congestion and the speed (or rather lack of it)!

Vegetation: Scoop out Central Park and we are left with nothing but bricks and cement; exclude the trees around South and Central Delhi and the consequence is identical!

A river runs through it: The Hudson vs the Yamuna. (If only they balanced so on the scale of pollution too)

History: Both cities are rich in their history. Born out of the vision of many great thinkers and architects, they have a compelling past.

Fashion: Both Delhiites and New Yorkers are high on fashion albeit different styles. However, both love their clothes, adapt instantly to new styles and love to go shop whenever they can!

It is no wonder then I have felt at home since day one ! Cheers to the two 'twin' cities that have brought me so much joy!

Flower Power!

2010-09-24T14:55:00.000-07:00

What is with us girls? What is it about a flower that makes us go gaga?

The floral connection for me began way back in school. At least till the sixth standard, I remember plucking a Dahlia (one of my favorites; be it yellow, white, red, purple or pink), Sunflower, Lily, Chrysanthemum and sometimes even a Rose from my garden for a favorite teacher.

Of course, the most loved ‘madams’ would get nothing less than a rose.

We girls would each hold on to our flowers throughout the bus ride to school careful not to bend or damage the stem in any manner; and on arriving, scout the school premises a few minutes before the final assembly bell to spot our respective targets and wish them good morning in style! Yes, mission accomplished!

It brought me immense joy back then and there is no way I would not stick to my routine, except for those rainy days when things got a little messy and dangerous around the garden.

Then there was the sacred bond we shared. Most of the housewives back then had a habit of offering flowers to the deities along with fruits, a bath and several other ceremonial knick-knacks. This is when the smaller varieties of flowers would be used, harvested from plants of all sizes-tall trees to stunted flowering shrubs. More often than not, ladies would go out of line and pluck a few beauties from the neighbor’s garden. Chaos usually followed.

What I enjoyed the most however, was threading florets into a nice garland for the gods. This was done only on certain auspicious occasions. It would take us kids all day to go about this activity. The creative freedom is what I loved the best; the color combination, the pattern, it was all up to the task taker.

I would want to use all possible combinations and top it up by a huge flower right at the centre-a pendant of sorts.

As I grew older and moved to a different city, the relationship changed. Flower arrangement competitions were popular and I remember participating in a couple. Personally, I would pluck random flowers and pretty leaves and press them into hard bound books. I loved to see the dried look and never needed a bookmark at all. It sufficed.

Family weddings and parties were a preferred location and I had this habit of collecting and keeping the floral decorations for myself. A habit I lost after a couple of years as I graduated to college and consequentially a new city.

The pact now was receiving and never collecting. Birthdays were made extra special by the plethora of bouquets received. The occasional 'no occasion flowers' were always welcome! I also learned how to use them as super accessories!

The trend continued.

Floral decorations, prints, bouquets, shows, garlands and so much more! The list doesn't exhaust easily.

Flower power: so subtle and yet so strong. Much like we girls! No wonder the affinity!

Femme flower i say!

When The Niagara Falls

2010-09-23T20:24:00.000-07:00

A sudden decision to drive down the following day gave me no time to set my expectations and a good eight hours after four in the morning, we entered the town of the world famous falls.

(This for some reason brought back a memory of a comment written on my slam book back in school. It said “yours till the Niagara falls”. The brain is such a fantastic machine. It correlates in the most unusual fashion!)

A quick lunch later we were all set to explore the waters of the Niagara.

Across the river, the skyline of Ontario seemed to beckon me and someday I hope to cross that bridge too. Atop the observation deck, I took in the view, the crisp air and the majestic glory of this Kingdom of water.
It felt alive, so much so I could almost hear it breathe, the rhythmic sound of the water gushing down and hitting the river and rocks below with all its might gave it a steady heartbeat.

Tiny blue formations a good two hundred feet below gave me a sense of the size of the falls. A ride down an elevator coupled with a blue raincoat and we were a part of the same ‘bonsai’ group of individuals.

'The Maid of the Mist'-the name of our ride was anything but a misnomer. The Mighty may only be served!

As we progressed, the wind constantly sprayed water on us, the spray eventually changed to a full blown shower. The boat stopped adjacent to the American side of the horse shoe falls and for those few minutes, I felt I was in Paradise.

There was a milky white curtain of water surrounding us on all three sides; so majestic and large- bigger than I could have ever imagined it to be. The mist changing direction with the wind and the sea gulls gliding aimlessly over us, the bluish reflective sheen of the water and then out of nowhere, the most beautiful rainbow! I could almost touch it I thought.
The sights, the sounds and the sweet tasting water- lost waterway of Eden, an Epic movie or a different planet altogether?
Was such beauty, such enormity for real? Bliss!

We dropped anchor, post which we headed to the Cave of the Winds. Yellow raincoats and a hundred and fifty feet drop later we were back in a dream.
Red wooden stairs zigzagged their way up to the so called Hurricane Deck. A spot so windy so watery and yet so fascinating.
The rainbow still hadn’t died out. It felt as though I had found the mythical pot of gold- richer in experience I sure had become.

No wonder, couples exchange wedding vows on this very deck. After all, it embodies the spirit of everything that’s beautiful, sacred and eternal.

I stood in awe, watching the clouds, the water, the sun and the birds and couldn’t help feeling small and insignificant.

Words can’t do justice to the brilliance it exudes.

Really,nothing compares to the beauty of this planet we call home.

The Myth named Peace

2010-09-10T09:51:00.000-07:00

The illusion of peace has the world in shambles today, our perspectives deranged and our hearts tainted. A world where the hungry hold guns and the thirsty drink bullets, where the mind of a child is molded to fulfill the ulterior motives of the preacher himself, where religion is reduced to just an excuse and where the remnants of humanity have begun to disappear.

Bloodshed is in vogue it seems; innocent lives lost are after all nothing more than “collateral damage”. So what if a few million children starve to their deaths?

Making the world a better place kick starts with endless wars, inexcusable inhumanity and the insatiable greed for the invisible throne of control.

So much for globalization! As a people and as nations, all we do is turn a blind eye. This cataract of ignorance leads us to bliss.

The little worlds of comfort we have weaved for ourselves are the only ones we chose to see. The misery, suffering and hatred are unseen and forgotten.

And for those of us who chose to think and ponder, we circle back to where we start. For those of us who want to do, we try and we give up.

This feeling of helplessness often consumes my spirit, I feel hopeless and lost. A good deed or two is never enough to ameliorate all the pain there is.

A Revolution is what the heart desires, a Renaissance of a different kind, a Road to the world of sanity.

As children we are taught the virtues of sharing, brotherhood and kindness and yet somehow we manage to grow into conceited adults.

It is time we are made to open our eyes and realize there is enough for us all.

All we need is to start all over again.

In Dependence Lies The Key

2010-08-14T22:43:00.000-07:00

A hand cart tied securely around a tree trunk and a rusty big lock ensuring its absolute protection is a memory from many years ago, glimpses of which often come to mind and still fill me up with guilt.

I hadn’t had a very good day. Everything seemed to be falling apart and the over crowded bus packed with sweaty, smelly people made it worse. I was busy cursing life and losing heart thinking of its many misgivings when I noticed this cart.

It hit me hard-a slap on my face. What was I complaining about?

The rickety wooden cart was everything some man possessed; His livelihood, his profession, his asset, his investment and possibly even his home. Everything about his life revolved around his cart. I wondered what was it that he looked forward to? How did his family get by? Did he even have one? In those moments I learnt what I consider one of the most valuable lessons of my life so far.

We are no different from the frog who lives in his well, oblivious to the existence of a world beyond his own.

We enjoy the best of cuisines, clothes and cars, and still find time to complain and fret. It is never quite enough, never satisfying for almost all of us. In our heads, things always fall short of our expectations. We are chasers in our own ways, running after materialistic treasures and imaginary Nirvanas.

Unfulfilled desires and unaccomplished dreams- we spend so much time pondering over the `what ifs’ that we ignore `what is’.

All we need to do is take a look around us, get out of the well for a bit and take in the enormity of the world that surrounds us. A world so different from our own and yet, a world very much our own. A world in which priorities are what we label as redundant, luxuries are unknown, existence is a daily struggle.

Every time I feel life has been unfair to me, I close my eyes and take myself back to that moment in the bus and then all am left with is a sense of gratitude.

We are so fortunate, so blessed to be where we are today. There are choices we can make, we get our second chances; there is so much good that has happened to us.

Shouldn’t we then undertake a mission to ameliorate all that is within our realm of possibility and practicality? Do our bit not as an act of charity or philanthropy but as a heartfelt and moral responsibility? We are capable of remedying a part of the anguish, pain, sorrow and limitations of many around us.

Can we then pledge to make a conscious effort to change our `life in the well' outlook once and for all?

Hope this Independence Day unfurls the spirit of oneness in us-let us pledge to help them, not judge and forget them.

The Other Side

2010-08-04T09:29:00.000-07:00

As girl children, most of us could hardly wait to grow up. At that age,our tiny brains are not capable of comprehending anything more rewarding than the freedom to paint our lips in bright shades of our mother’s lipsticks, dress our eyes black and hang those colorful loops in our ear lobes.

Personally my fascination with the Kajal was such that I would end up sketching dozens of pairs of oculi exclusively with it and my mom would return home to find half of the pencil consumed creating eyes I thought would come to life one day.

The colorful, glittery and frequently gaudy Saris, the multicolored bangles and the colorful bindis; I believe we all ached to be able to get into and make use of them someday and looked up to our mothers, sisters and aunts as our Fashionistas!

I would often plead with them to save me a few of their dresses and a simple nod of the head in the affirmative was enough to get me sufficiently overjoyed.

Back in school, the high school students had the privilege of dressing in crisp white shirts and we juniors had blue checked shirts as a part of our uniform - proof of how unfair life was to us kids!

In my later school years, the concept of college was seeded in my head and thoughts of dressing as one pleased sprouted out of it - as a consequence of which, the white shirt lost its charm.

We friends would frequently discuss the pros of college life and the cons of being a school kid. Well, good thing then that the wait was almost over.

Once in college, fashion was high on all our minds for a while before it was offset by thoughts of financial freedom and how essential it was for us to have a monthly source of income. Verdict: Nothing beats a good job and a monthly cash flow. Well, we could then shop all we wanted (no strings attached-monetary or otherwise)

So at this point of time in my life, vogue in campus had almost lost all its appeal.

After three years of life in the corporate and a decent monthly `pocket money’,things changed yet again!

I missed being that carefree child, that sincere student; that chic college goer.

Don't we all?

Social conditioning is such that the other side somehow always seems more appealing, more happening and more interesting.

As much as we may try living in the present, thoughts of a better tomorrow are a part of our sub conscience as much as are memories of our yesteryear's.

For almost all of us, today is consumed reflecting on yesterday and focusing on tomorrow.

And as some wise guy put it, Yesterday is but today's memory, and tomorrow is today's dream.

When the Goddess visits

2010-07-27T07:02:00.000-07:00

Durga Pooja-the season predictably preceded by a vehement discussion on the significance of her mode of transport and what it signified. Would the Goddess be a harbinger of prosperity,war,floods or peace?Well,this really was dependent on whether she chose to ride an elephant,a horse, maybe opt for a "palquin" or walk it all the way.Yes,it was time;time for ceaseless celebrations!

The neighborhood children would suddenly turn so active.I remember running around the locality from one house to another,one hall to another,rehearsing just like the others for the upcoming dance or song competition, enacting characters in skits,brushing up on bollywood music knowledge for the Antarakshi competition,practicing and trying hard to perfect a certain painting for an art competition, appearing for endless screening tests of preliminary selection procedure for the final quiz round to be held later,or maybe simply helping out a family getting costumes ready for the kid for a fancy dress competition. The enthusiasm was contagious and soon the adults would be equally occupied if not more.

My favorite memories are of the alu chop stalls selling all kinds of fried delights. It was so easy opting not to remember any elderly advice against their consumption.The pocket money and Pooja bonus handed over by relatives and family friends would be well spent on them and on buying tiny water balloons, designer balloons, bindis,bangles and other such treasures.

Every year there used to be a theme around the Pooja Mandaps; from Ice Age to the great African Safari.Our curiosity knew no bounds and every morning as we waited for the school bus right next to the construction site, a mental note on the daily progress was made.This lasted till the last day of school before the holidays started and our inquisitiveness would be satiated not before day one of the auspicious three days for which goddess Durga paid us a visit.

This was the season when the entire city would come out to the streets and shop for everything new.Clothes,utensils, electronic items and maybe even cars.We kids loved showing off our new frilly frocks, six in all,making it possible for us to change twice a day!

Every year, on any one or on all the days we would wait our turns to be seated and then devour the traditional Bhog consisting of Khichuri,Dalna,Papod, Bhaja,Doi, Mishti and Payesh .Nothing tasted better on a Pooja day than this ; perfectly complimenting the occasion.

"Pandal Hopping" was a favorite activity. As stated earlier,themes could be anything from the Titanic,Hawa Mahal, Red Fort to Burning Trains-creative juices in full flow eying the customary trophy and a big fat cheque. Lighting was another important part of it and hiring lighting artists from Calcutta was in vogue for many years.Personally, I would score the idols basis their beauty quotient and would root for the one with the prettiest looking and best clad "Ma Durga" and a hideous looking, despicable "Maheshashur" to go.

On such days, cars stuffed with people,way beyond the prescribed or acceptable limits, would rule the roads of Shillong.Loud music,louder laughter, elbows jutting out from the car windows and semi-dangling limbs were common.

The rush on the Navami (day three) nights when the "Orchestra from Calcutta or Guwahati" would come play all the jazzy bollywood numbers was no less than one in any Sonu Nigam concert.

The Dahsami was the most chaotic of all the days.Married ladies in long queues exchanging sindoor in traditional Bengali sarees (white with red borders), holding plates of sage, sweets,flowers shortly to be offered to Ma Durga; their children with school books of their dreaded subjects awaiting their turn to seek the blessing of the Goddess and sneak in a petal and a half from her garland into the pages thereby sealing fate.Yes,they were sure to excel in the next test!

The Aarti competition grew intense, and the Dhol which after every half an hour would resound throughout the locality marking time and again the festivities and the victory of good over evil , sounder louder than ever.

Goodbyes as we know, are always hard.Trucks would line up and the strongmen would lift the heavy idols and place them gently onto the trucks, one exclusively for her while her companions would be packed into another.It was a norm for cars,bikes,and pedestrians to follow the trucks. This convoy had no limit and could stretch up to any number of vehicles and people.The pace would grow incredibly slow and one could not miss the sudden gloom settling in.Tears,broken hearts and mayhem followed once the convoys from the hundreds of Pandals from all around town converged at a particular point making their way one by one to place the idols in the river thereby completing the act of "bisharjan"

Prizes, holy water, sacred thread and boxes of sweets would be distributed the same evening. This more or less marked the end of her visit this year.

Though hearts would grow heavy,and the pace of the town would slow down, normalcy was regained usually in a week's time.And yes, the excitement was back! After all, Diwali was next!

Bugged Enough

2010-07-08T12:49:00.000-07:00

An encounter with a spider a while ago brought back a plethora of memories which "bugged" me enough to want to make tiny celebrities out of each one of them.

I'll start with the Lady Bird. Pretty with all those patterns on her back and those colorful hues making a fashion statement in the bug world.Green,red,yellow,black and orange little lives were abundant in any garden in the neighbourhood I grew up in.Terrified as I used to be and still am of insects, this is where the exception lies.Too delightul to resist! I loved watching her run from the tip of my fingers down my palm before placing her back on any one of the many lush plants around.

The fascination with Glow Worms was an integral part of my days as a kid. With all the glow worm toy sets I was gifted, the interset did not fade for a very long time.Chasing them at night, following their illuminance and trying hard to figure out exactly where they lived was more of an impossible task than a favourite activity. The best memories and also the most cherished in this category are those nights when a couple or more would stray into my room and invigorate my imaginative mind.

The squishy, sluggish and ubiquitous Caterpillar! To me all centipedes, millipedes and the like fall into this category. "Aguni Bichha" in Bengali loosely translates to Fire Insect.Striking orange, firey red and bright yellow ones announced their presence eveyday. I have frequently felt the "fire" in them (this happens when they decide to contact you and their stealth at doing so is remarkable) as have all my cousins and most of my friends from the area around.Lime (Choona) still is the favourite remedy to soothe the burning skin. Incredible how metamorphosis turns them into such beautiful and harmless butterflies!

The industrious Ant. They come in many varieties and the black ones dominated our abode-inside and out. It was difficult to miss their disciplined efforts demonstrated on trees, bathroom walls, kitchen floors and literally all around. As minute as they are the ant hills are extremely fun to witness especially the build up stage of it as are the laboured strides each individual takes with a load of winter food on it's back.We all have at one time or another observed and acknowledged their "conversations".

Spiders with their humungous to tiny sizes and the characteristic web of each type, dragonflies, moths fluttering around bulbs and lit up candles,snails leaving an identifiable mucus trail and making incredibly slow progress, grass hoppers jumping about, stick insects I so often mistook to be twigs,earthworms populating the mud and crickets infesting the night air with their noisy chatter.

The sights and the sounds.A part of many of our lives they are, more than we give them credit for.

Days of "Then"

2010-06-27T18:28:00.000-07:00

A funny face is entertainment enough for us as little babies. Adults sticking their tounges out, rolling their eyes,making funny noises and hiding their faces in their palms,or simply grinning and swaying their heads from one side to the other trying to elicit a response from the solitary infant they have for an audience.

Babies often laugh their tiny guts out at such gesticulations, some ofcourse have to signal for attention to satiate one thing or the other on their small list of demands.

Bright lights, soap bubbles, striking colors, crying dolls and bed time stories with seriously flawed logic were enough to keep almost all of us happy till a certain age.

We loved to color-crayons,color pencils,water colors were our prized possessions!We enjoyed running around for no apparent reason and believed every 'scary' tale we heard.

Life was all about merry making, in school and at home.

Television was not the most popular thing around, fast food was unheard of and the concept of pocket money did not exist.Not every house had a telephone and ink pens ruled our lives.

We girls loved our dolls and barbies (more than just dolls to us),and them boys were crazy about their GI Joes and Hotwheels.There was no 'Soft Toy' fascination.

Orange juice was fun and serving Roohavsa and Rasna was a trend at every birthday party.We loved the concept of birthdays-selecting gifts and gift wrapping them for friends-and ripping them apart and experiencing the joy of knowing what was gifted to us-story books and pencil boxes used to be my favourite!

Outdoors was all about hide and seek, lock and key, pass pass,hopping catching,cat and mouse, water and land, and other games with no names!

Indoors,we hosted doll parties and weddings where we exchanged gifts and spent days making them dresses,jewelry,quilts,pillows from whatever cloth left overs and stray beads we could get our hands on.

My dolls i remember, had funny names- Indu (lead actress),Bindu (evil cousin),Julie (the friend),Genny (the hero), Ranka(the curly haired villian), Kanchini and Sadhuni (sidekicks) and Kumbi (well, the squeaky one)!!

Us kids had to wait for special occasions to be bought a dress and that made us cherish it all the more;as for brands,we were clueless!'Fashion' to us was a frilly frock, a big hairclip, colorful suspenders and knee lenght socks.I remember parading in my new outfits with a sense of pride,showing off to one and all!

We wrote letters to keep in touch.Scented pens were once the only fad that we knew of! Birthday cards were a 'must give'.

Jigzaw puzzles, Brainvita,Scrabble, Doctor Set, Ludo and Carrom were common games we spent hours playing.

As we grew older,there was more of television, less of paper, more of the couch and less of outdoors, burgers and pizzas, coke and pepsi, videogames, the world wide web and mobile phones.

And now of course, what my generation of kids knew and loved , is obsolete,boring and stale.The evolution is interseing and as time goes by,I can only wonder what next?

The days of 'then' were unique and something that belonged to us kids-born in the eighties-I sure am happy to be one!

I Love a Rainy Night

2010-06-20T18:08:00.000-07:00

The first drops of the summer rain randomly hitting my face have never failed to light me up with a smile.

All of us in our very own ways have an association with the rain. No other form of precipitation, I believe, is more universally cherished than this.

A house in the hills usually invites thunderbolts right inside.It is louder and to many I know, a reason for their fear of the rainy season.I somehow have always loved experiencing it; the amplified thundering sound interjecting the silence of the dark hills around.

The rhythmic sound made by the raindrops hitting a tinned roof works as the perfect lullaby for people like me.A good night's sleep never came easier than on a night like this.

A good shower leaves behind tiny rivulets running alongside inclined pathways and makeshift stone staiways.Miniature waterfalls in their own rights,falling from the roofs above into and then over the buckets,drums and other such water holding containers put out the night before by the perenially water thirsty hill people.

The kids are out on the streets chuckling and giggling in their uniforms;colorful gum boots in place of their regular school shoes this morning.Aching to jump into one of the many water puddles all around. Bright pink,blue and yellow umbrellas abruptly springing out at all different angles.You either love to or hate to have to go to school on a day like this.

The monsoons in the plains have a different story to tell.The earth comes alive with a distinctive smell when it soaks in the first rain of the season. The leaves suddenly change color from a dusty brown to different shades of green.The city is cleansed. A welcome spectacle but only till the time the drains clog and the strees take over their function.

Traffic jams are next in line, the traffic lights fail and the vehicles are immobile.The city shuts down.The school compunds are water logged as are most of the office buildings.The telephone stops working and the cable is out.Electricity vanishes.

Despite the odds, witnessing the rainfall and the cooler weather as a result of it, kicks in an appetite for the oiliest of deep fried snacks and innumerable cups of tea.

A rainy day happens to be the perfect setting for random stories of hauntings which we love to hear and those spine chilling movies we love to watch; for reading a novel as the droplets settle on the window pane and for a nice nap with our favourite music playing in the background and soothing our subconscience.

It also brings with it an inherent melancholic streak adding on to the pain of separation for lovers living apart. But in that very pain,they discover love,deeper than they knew they could ever feel.
Those together, sense the magical romance in the rain, and get drenched in it's spell.

And then there is the rainbow out in the horizon with the sun peeking out from a behind a cloud high up in the sky. This, to me, is what hope looks like.

Dying seeds waking up, butterflies hovering around fresh scented flowers,honeybees going about their business,garden worms, bugs and caterpillars out to get on with their lives and playful children finally taking a shot at those puddles.

The bith of life.

It's no wonder I love a rainy night!

Back in Time

2010-06-18T09:23:00.000-07:00

Have you ever witnessed flashbacks trigerred by a smell, a sight or a sound? If you have, then you would know that this is how the brain is said to work; opening 'vaults' filled with events close to our heart.

Events, when the two, who commomly disagree, have been in agreement over the emotions expereinced,making them memories of a lifetime.

My mind too, often takes me on a journey back in time.

I see the snow clad Himalayan mountains, a red brick lined pathway and red and white rose bushes guarding the edges of the lawn;

I smell the sweetnees of the pea plants and the local alcohol brewing in a corner room; I hear the chirping of birds and other familiar sounds that enveloped me twenty five years ago.

I breathe the air once again,I am a child once more-am home in Pedong yet again.

It is true what they say about the place you grow up in.You can never really leave it.It never really lets you go.

A Christian community of God fearing and Christ loving individuals. Those trips downhill every Sunday for the morning mass,a herd of feet scurrying and hurrying on hearing the first gong of the church bell resonate throughout the small countryside;only to be catching our breaths rushing uphill immediately after the mass to be on time and reach the one house which had a television set so we were in time for our favpoutite epic "Ramayana".

Yes,kids and grown ups alike,from one God to another.

Wonder years indeed, spent amidst winter flowers in full bloom,terrace farms boasting of a rich growth of peas,potatoes,rice corn and radish;fruit trees which we climbed and wild berries that we collected followed by the ritual of sampling and savouring them at our own pace.Bliss.

The animal sounds reaching our ears from a distance were a frequent and welcome distraction.I vividly recollect the endless hours spent feeding the cattle ,petting the goats, watching the pigs and chasing the hens back into their coops at sundown.The ceremonious preparation of animal feed was something I so looked forward to.

For breakfast, we always had newly laid eggs picked straight from the coop, boiled and placed onto our plates.A glass of fresh milk, milked from one of the cows just a few minutes ago.

I have been fortunate to witness the birthing of calves and the pure joy it brings to people.

Families often picniced up on the forest clearing and the occasion was solemnised by the act of driving away packs of wolves and families of foxes.

I once accompanied an uncle of mine on a rabbit hunt.We chased but did not kill.

There is nothing more inviting than the sun on a cold winter day.A walk to the infamous "Daara" was more of a custom than a routine on such days. Once there, we lived just on oranges for hours soaking in the sun and taking in the view of the ravines and gorges below and the mountains dressed in white right across.

Throwing our names with all our vocal mights into the hills and waiting for them to answer, fascinated by what I learnt was called an echo.

Mountain air, spring water and homegrown food.The adorable people and their unconditional love.I shall never know what it is that takes me back there time and again.

Maybe,I never really did leave.

Cape Cod and Islands

2010-06-01T21:03:00.000-07:00

American sign language, the Black Dog brand and baked potato chips; they all have Cape Cod in common, their place of origin and our choice for a mini vacation.
The drive to Cape Cod is breathtaking. Being from the hills, I have grown up in the midst of a lot of greenery. However, the canopy throughout the 5 hour long drive via Connecticut and Rhode Island to this little corner of Massachusetts is beyond comparison to anything I have ever seen before.I could not keep my eyes off the roadside foliage for too long and found myself frequently appreciating the beauty lining the picture perfect roads. `Driving through a scenic painting born out of the artist’s incredible imagination’ is what I can best quote to describe it.
Day one was all about taking in the view and walking around the village streets of Chatham and Dennis Port. Cape styled houses with manicured lawns, charming garden ornaments, beautiful flowers in full bloom, white picket fences and trees. The perfect setting for any fairy tale character to live in! Snow white and Rose Red must have lived around here somewhere!
Close by, the bay was teeming with fishing boats of all sizes returning home from their day at sea.Lobsters, Cod fish and orange fins happen to be the most common catch around along with Shrimps and blue fins. We then headed to the town of Hyannis for an evening of great food and good music complimented by the light drizzle outside. A walk in the rain never felt better.
Our second day started early. After a scrumptious Irish breakfast at the `Wee Packet’ (toast with blueberry jam, Irish pudding, poached eggs,sausages,beans on the side and two cups of coffee),we were back at Hyannis all set to board our boat and go watch whales in their natural space.

The blue waters of the Atlantic due to the abundance of phytoplankton in them, are a feeding ground for whales who migrate every summer from the Caribbean to the marine sanctuary where we were headed. I have no words to describe the beauty, magnificence, enormority and the feeling which set in on spotting the first humpback whale, a mother named Kaygen on the move with her calf Codi.We went on to spot ten different individuals which we were told is a big number to come across on any given day; one of them was a Minky,a different breed of whale.The moment of the day was when one decided to scratch her back on the underside of the boat and came out right below where I stood, getting playful and showing off her skills before taking the final dive down.Can whale watching get any better than this?
The trip back to land was equally informative and scenic given the history and the geographical setting of the land around.
We then drove down all the way to the easternmost tip of Cape Cod,a place called Provincetown and spent the evening there watching a beautiful sunset on the beach.A sundown to remember.
Martha’s Vineyard, a favorite choice for a summer getaway for the rich and famous. Kennedys’, Clintons’ and now the Obamas’.An Island to the south of the cape,scenic,spectacular and simply breathtaking. The picturesque villages of Edgartown,Tisbury,Aquinnah and Oak Bluffs along with the warm sea water make it the perfect spot for a lazy vacation.Grapevines grow all around like wildflowers;Sheep farms, horse barns, easels all around the fields,dairy cows feeding off the greens.So `country’,so special!

As weathered as we were, we enjoyed every minute of the experience;be it being sun kissed on the bow of the boat or blanketed by the cold ocean breeze. A vacation worth the wait filled now with memories to rejoice. Cape Cod and Islands.

Perfect Friday!

2010-05-15T16:28:00.000-07:00

My first sampling of Indian cuisine in NYC was a treat to my pallete.Welcome to "Sangam", a small outlet in the Village area with a seating capacity of around ten. Whatever apprehensions our small group of five had with respect to the food was killed as soon as we took our first bites of the spread infront of us.Tender lamb and chicken kebabs seasoned perfectly, delicious biryani, chicken korma paired with paranthas and naans; each bite was a job well done.Phirni and Gulab jamuns were a fine choice to end the dinner with,although the gajar ka halwa would also have been an equally good pick.
This area called village has a unique feel to it. Be it the open seating arrangements, the hippy crowd it is famous for, or the fact that its proximity to the NYU campus makes it a favourite destination for it’s students, the vibe hits you instantly!
Next stop Comedy Shop. A standup comedy show comprising of seven comics with ‘expertise’ in different subjects. Hilarious most of the times but could also be a little unpleasant if you lack the appetite for certain topics. We of course had a blast. Especially since two of the entertainers enjoyed picking on hubby dearest after he was ‘Christened’ ‘Sanjay’. Christian was what the first comic’s name and so the statement above was an attempted joke. Get it? Never mind am sure it isn’t that funny after all!
Our bones were ticked enough to last throughout the pubbing and the taxi ride back home, followed by a cup of amazing tea before we called it a day at 5 AM. Eight hours later, a second cup of morning tea and a typical Indian brunch of ‘Aloo Jhol’ and Pooris followed(The line cooks and the head chefs well demarcated by the division of activities amongst the five of us).The delicious meal was a good enough excuse for a luxurious afternoon nap.And here I am post my slumber, refreshed and revived sharing my experiences with you.
Yes,I had a great Friday.Great food,great company and great entertainment!

My Only Religion

2010-05-06T11:53:00.000-07:00

I am not a Temple person. Yet I enjoy the occasional visitis not just to Temples but Mazhars, Dargas, Churches, Monastries and Gurudwaras alike. For me, my God resides everywhere. I see him where I want to and have my conversations with him whenever I feel like.

For me, religion is not an `excuse’, an `obligation’ or a `habit’; but rather a `bond’ with divinity, an association with the `all supreme’, a `power’ for greater good. Honestly, “religion” is what our mind perceives it to be, what is ingrained in us as we grow up, what we imbibe from the society we live in and what we cultivate from the community we belong to.

Historically, `religion’ as we all know, has extensively influenced the course of mankind and the same holds true even today and it will probably continue for millenniums to come. Very few of us would want to disagree with this statement.

As I see it,there is an overlap between religion, tradition and culture. Three siblings held together by the delicate association of values-religious values, traditional values and cultural values.
Morality: their common child.

Wikipedia states: Morality (from the Latin moralities "manner, character, proper behavior") is a system of conduct and ethics that is virtuous.
It is not an irony then, killing in the name of religion, the name of honour, and at the behest of several hundred excuses man has come up with today? How is it virtuous, moral, or religious to say the least?

Of course the answer is not simple. Neither are the reasons. The solution? I don’t want to lie saying I believe there is one. I am lost as most of us are, I try not to dig into this delicate subject, I too want to go about my life without provocating, hurting or questioning sentiments. Maybe even pay a deaf ear to unacceptable statements.

What mankind really needs is religious `intelligence’ to know Real Good from Real Evil of current times.

And in my daily conversations with `God’ and on my infrequent visits to his `abodes’, we discuss my Religion-HUMANITY! And I pray to God to bless me with the strength to follow it all I can.

A smile is a million words

2010-05-04T14:59:00.000-07:00

“Smile a while and while you smile, another smiles and by and by there are miles of smiles and life is worthwhile because you smile”
Back in school, I remember reading out the line above in the morning assembly (and I realize now, how true it is)

Leaving aside the sarcastic, smirky, half mouthed, fake, customary types, a smile is invaluable, a possession, a weapon, an asset! The power of a smile is immense.

Across all ages, races and geographies, the genuine whole hearted smile has no deviation in its interpretation. One can never go wrong with a smile! It is an inborn instinct we possess-upwardly curling our lips to express joy, happiness and content.
What I love about it is one can instantly tell if it comes straight from the heart or if it’s just a filler. No, there is no way you can cheat with a smile!

As kids, we carry the smile of innocence on our faces; then there is the dumb/blank/empty smile most of us must know; slowly and steadily we graduate to the `ritualistic’ smile; and of course many of us must also be familiar with the `rude’ smile! And the `puppy’ smile, on seeing super adorable infants of humans and animals alike, is used so generously.

The testing smile of insolence, the sad smile of insanity, the humble smile of modesty, the proud smile of accomplishment, the warm smile of love, the fatigued smile of exhaustion, the confused smile of adolescence, the peaceful smile of contentment.
There is no end to the types one can think of.

Personally, I love smiling for no reason! I do it all the time. And if I am smiling at strangers, I wait till I receive one back…and in my head I categories it into a `type’ 

Shades of Peace

2010-04-28T10:30:00.000-07:00

Life is rushed. Busy schedules, endless tasks, extra hours at work; in this never ending race against time, we miss out on living. Our lives speed past us and before we realize, we are in that very stage in our lives which we once wrongly believed would never catch up on us. `Consumed’ isn’t that what we are? Time was never this limited!
But again, this is life as we know it to be. I can’t imagine myself living any differently. I, like many of us, am accustomed to the weekend lifestyle. It’s all that I have known.
Peace is found in the extra five minutes of sleep, the dessert that melts our soul, the programme on Nat Geo or History or Discovery that for once takes us to a different place, away from the crazy demands of our monotonous lives.
Those days of constant nothingness are long lost. It’s what we now know to be our childhood. We chased nothing then (maybe just butterflies) and yet the happiness quotient was always at a `happy' high! We knew just the `ups’ in life; the concept of `crests and troughs’ wasn’t applicable to us then. It’s only now that we console ourselves basis this science of waves.
A ten day vacation out in the sea or up in the mountains, and we itch to go back to our normal routine savvy lives. Should it be any different? That’s open to debate.
It all comes down to living happily, stealing moments of joy. It comes to us in different ways. We interpret life in our own unique individualistic ways. Shades of peace are many. To each cometh his own.

Boys in NYC!

2010-04-23T11:20:00.000-07:00

“Bad boys bad boys what you gonna do when they come for you”…???Reminds me of one particular TV show featured around cops. I have no idea how, when, where and why it started, but I have been forever fascinated by the NYPD men. Blame it on shows like these if you will because I realize how lame my statement above sounds. Nonetheless, I feel extremely happy I got two gentlemen from this very league to pose on their bikes and get a picture taken with me (and I let them know how awestruck I have always been)! It led to a long queue of tourists behind us bustling in enthusiasm at this new found attraction! Which brings me to the topic of the day, `Boys in NYC’.
Wearing shades inside the train? They don’t care!! Leather pants, leopard prints, hot pants with scarves, shiny red shoes, men wearing kilts; they fit in perfectly with the well groomed, polished gentlemen attired in perfect business wear. Scarlet to pink, purple to blue, fluorescent, vibrant, and oh so colorful!!Name any color and I can find a guy with that color on his hair; which by the way, I must say, draws my interest all the time. Ankle length braided locks, frizzy perms, the renowned punk look; and guess what? Ghajini style dos are all over!! It’s not just the well gelled ,neat and meticulously styled hair that rules. Fashion is a statement everyone around makes.

It’s a haven for tattoo lovers. Muscled men move around in vests and the colorful, beautiful, intricate tattoos clothe their arms, shoulders and also creep out from under their shorts! I try not to but end up staring anyways!

Cold, creepy, oblivious, is what these boys are not. Friendly, courteous, chatty is what they are.

This giant of a guy, a little less than 7 feet tall, hefty and dressed in red track pants, a green fluorescent tee, black runners, head swaying in response to the I pod playing his favorite music and his body in rhythmic motion with that of the train, passed on a warm smile (he must have caught me staring..Told you it’s hard for me not to) and I responded with an even wider smile.

Hell,I like the boys of NYC!

2010-04-03T11:15:00.000-07:00

It’s never too early or too late in this city. It’s always a good time! As I exited from the subway station last afternoon, my excitement doubled on seeing Central Park. I caught a glimpse of it enroute our visit to the Apple Store. Since the Sun decided to finally be kind upon us, grateful individuals, couples, and families were out to soak it up. Being the sole green spot in the city, it’s a haven especially for those with young ones at home.

Hitch a ride on one of the many well decked up horse carts and enjoy the ride around the park! It is a good idea to go do that someday as the park is huge(roughly 850acres of green).The familiar smell of dung was in the air as the well bred and even better fed horses went about their daily chores.

I ended up looking at the people coated in a thick green paint in amazement! From a distance, one couldn’t tell if they were in fact living breathing human beings! They looked like mini representations of the Statue of Liberty! I was equally thrilled after my visit to the store above.A heaven for all i-products and application junkies, it scored an ace on customer servive from my side..granted!Afterwards, a filling meal at Brooklyn Diner was good for us two extremely hungry people.The menu there boasted of many culinary awards to its credit and the food undoubtedly lived up to it! We strolled around the area and walked up to Times Square which as expected was brimming with activity and people.The queue for Broadway tickets was unbelievably long,of which I shall soon be a part in the weeks to come.The evening saw us at a friend’s place for dinner and I should mention the delicious spread of South Indian cuisine. It was a treat to our taste buds and we piled on dosa after dosa.Thank you KD!!Did I mention the free flowing beer and wine?And yes, Luke and Jassi(their dogs) were delightful!I haven’t met the two great Danes yet so am already looking forward to our next evening together.

SOUL Music

2010-03-30T16:35:00.000-07:00

Nostalgia. It crept its way into my heart after a short chat with an old friend today. All that was ever said about time never felt truer. Its a cold evening and as I am sipping into my evening cup of chai and listening to some of my favorite numbers, I feel like talking about all those songs of our times I love. My companions through the ups and downs of life. Hard days were made so much easier. Un-expressable pain was suddenly expressed as I would sing along. In joy, sadness, loneliness, distraught and celebration alike. Music stood by always and that is one constant in life we all can place our bets on!
Someday by MLTR.It made the three years of separation bearable, lonely days liveable!I remember listening to this one number over and over again as I would commute to work. Everyday!
Romeo&Juliet.Its a song I share with a dear friend .It’s OUR song.We hummed along dedicating it to some period of both our lives. The humour,pain and the love that comes pouring out of this number is indescribable! The drive to work would be oh so bland without Mark Knoffler serenading our blues away !Thank God for him!!
Aerosmith,Bryan Adams,Bon Jovi,John Denver,U2,Fools Garden-Lived through my college days devouring all of their numbers.
Black eyed peas has the power to lift up my mood anyday,anywhere!!
Whigfield,Aqua,No Mercy,Boyzone,Backstreet Boys,Britney Spears,Sonu Nigam,Alisha Chinoy-What fun would school be without them around to pep up silly birthday parties and get togethers? Saving up to buy their cassettes would be high on all of our agendas.And if one found a remix with all our favourite numbers in it,jackpot!!
These are the ones that come to mind at once.Ofcourse the list is endless!On that note let me get back to my current song.And in case you are wondering,Its Summer Wine by Ville Valo.
Long live Music!!

2010-03-29T11:30:00.000-07:00

The past weekend was an eye opener.The midnight visit to Times Square was unique as it is am sure for all first timers there.Tourists flock around that area all year through and I am told the queue to get into TS starts as early as 3PM on New Year's eve!Its bright by day and equally lit up at night.Its a lot of electricity in action.Its packed noisy and so much fun.I enjoyed just being there,taking in the billboards around.Musicals,stand up comedy shows, Broadway,it all happens right here!Am guessing it is always a couple of degrees warmer in this zone courtesy the perennial crowd.Walking around was never this pleasurable!The energy fills you up instantly and you become a part of this block called times square.The people make it what it is;actors,comedians,musicians,writers-artists across all forays.Its the synergy of these hundreds of activities going on in and around this place which makes it special,almost alive!
Back to present day.Back home from a wet walk outside preceded by an hour at the gym.PS:This old man who is no less than 80 running on the treadmill is an inspiration!!
For a food lover like me, my neighborhood is heaven!American(the regular fast food joints not included),Chinese,Pakistani,Indian,Greek,Sri-Lankan,Egyptian!Oh Boy!And then there is great street food around.Next on my list is the regular hot dog.I cant be living here and not taste one!
Now, this guy called Bob(guess he owns the Bob's shoe repair shop 2 blocks away) is one funny fellow.With his Italian accent and subtle humor,he has won himself an unwritten contract with us for mending all broken footwear in the days to come.
Just at a ten minute walk from our place is the water front,a beautiful park,a museum,a church, a pet shelter and a library besides the regular shops and buildings.
And for all those who know am not very comfortable crossing streets,I am a changed person:)

2010-03-26T05:42:00.001-07:00

Another wintry morning.Waking up to the sound of howling gusty winds outside will soon become a habit I presume.Worse, they have predicted snowfall over the weekend.Nevermind.The best thing about Manhattan is the crowd.What is more interesting than the obvious fashion statements is the diversity around.It would not be an exaggeration to state it is a mini representation of our planet.The subway station next to where I live has a train which goes straight to 33rd street and the exit there is right opposite Macy’s.Think of it as the Shopper’s Stop of US (just like WalMart is the American Big Bazaar),except for the yearly parade and the additional brands,the concept is similar.Interestingly, the other day,as I was sipping a tall (read smallest) Starbuck’s hot chocolate on Broadway,a gentleman came up to me asking for directions to this very joint.And surprisingly, I directed him precisely.That certainly felt good-to be on the other side for a change if I may say so!Which reminds me, seeing a girl enjoy a yummy looking circular edible object,greed overcame me and I went ahead and bought a Pretzel for myself.Immediately,I regretted doing so(no disrespect to all the Pretzel lovers).The first bite was all I could manage.Bland,tasteless,sprinkles of sea salt.Infact all I could taste was the salt!The Indo-Chinese dinner later at China Mirch more than compensated for this bad culinary shock.I have hardly seen anything around.Central Park,The Statue of Liberty,Brooklyn Bridge,MET,Little Italy,Little China…..the list is endless.Till the weather clears up,my patience will be tried.Till then I have my Gym and Yoga to focus on!

2010-03-22T10:27:00.001-07:00

Washington D.C. A sudden decision to go visit our friends in the capital saw us pack our bags and start the weekend by driving down to Bowie late Friday night. After a four hour long drive, we reached the address in question at around 1 Am and stayed up all night and all morning. We ended up calling it a day at 7AM and were up and about at 10AMto go check the city out. After a delicious Thai lunch in Annapolis, we drove down to DC.What hit me instantly about the city was the people. Cycling, jogging, walking, roller skating around the beautiful parks and streets were these health conscious individuals across all age groups. PS: Most of the boys had their shirts off! The day was beautiful and everyone was taking advantage of the sunny weather. Lincoln memorial (home to Martin Luther King’s inspirational speech) looks over the obelisk (war memorial) across a body of water with a tree lined walking area on both sides. In a couple of weeks, they shall be all set to bloom and that is a visual delight I plan to catch up on some time later. The Second World War memorial honors all those men and women who battled for their country. Victory in Air, Victory on Land and Victory at Sea. There are columns circling the area wherein each one represents one of the US States. Inscribed on the walls are tributary writings for all the brave soldiers. One can spend the entire day there lying about the grass and taking in the view topped by the chirping of many birds. Since there wasn’t much time on our hands, every other attraction had to be saved for a visit later. We headed back to the DC University area where we spent some time hanging around the campus post which we drove down to Georgetown to try Ethiopian food for dinner. Now, all you need to do here is think Indian!! Dal,saag,garam masala flavoured chicken curry,and steamed dosa. I even thought they looked much like us!Now this place is called Zed’s and apparently one of the Clinton Family’s favourite eating joints around town! D.C-I instantly connected with this place. Somehow, the history nestled in its midst appeals to me. Dan Brown’s the Lost Symbol definitely needs another read before we plan our next trip down to Washington, District Columbia.

2010-03-19T13:09:00.000-07:00

My blessed slip-ons! After last evening’s footwear fiasco, no more experiments for me when it comes to walking around the streets especially when one of the most dependable mode of commuting around here weighs heavily on your trusted heels (next to the sub I suppose)! Back home, my slippers would give away on a bimonthly basis and I would end up going back home from work having my sandals somehow stapled/glued together, and that too would hardly hold for long. I remember running around office in borrowed shoes quite often! Present day, I have two blisters sitting pretty on each foot. Therefore as I ventured out to familiarize myself with the area around where I live, I prayed for a blister free, slipper malfunction free stride.
The view from my 8th floor bedroom window encompasses tall buildings in the distance, a lengthy flyway where cars are often caught in bad traffic jams, a church, the in-house swimming pool on the 7th floor terrace (which sadly won’t open until late May), the gym downstairs and a manicured terrace lawn with white and yellow wild flowers abruptly springing to life, bidding the winter goodbye! I figured it was time to look around, observe and imbibe a little more today!
Much to my surprise, I could hear Trans music playing as I stepped outside the building door and soon after saw the DJ responsible. The white topped mini tents mushrooming around caught my attention and within seconds I gathered it to be an evening bazaar. From freshly baked breads and its variations, to clothes, caps, tees, accessories and more! And if you are wondering if I managed to pick something for myself, I actually did!!
Dog walkers, pram pushers, hand holders, sun lovers and I.I couldn’t help wonder if I was really here in their midst.
Located at a very small radial length from 100 Columbus Dr.(my building address),one can find eateries like Mc Donald’s, Starbucks, Subway, a pharmacy which double ups as a departmental store and most important, the train station. Cleaners, shoe repair shops, studios are just a few steps away.Life is in abundance all around. The feel surely is fresh and vibrant! And as I was walking around taking the final photograph, a young guy offered his help with my picture. I politely declined explaining its just the city shots I am after for a blog that I writeEnjoy them!

2010-03-17T14:37:00.000-07:00

Physically constrained in my airplane seat, my eyes absorbing the panoramic view below, my mind wandered thinking of the beautiful landscapes I had come across in the course of this much awaited and highly anticipated flight across the Atlantic- a feeling of freedom overcame me. Sandy brown, ocean green, sky blue, icy white to a silver sheen; different contours and topographies, my beautiful Earth! My mind was pulled indoors as my fellow passenger cautioned I would feel the pace of the city as soon as I took my first step into it. Looking below as we were landing into JFK,I neither believed him nor disbelieved. The weather was disappointing as I caught nothing of the New York skyline thanks to heavy downpour outside.
An hour and a half later, after queuing up for immigration, claiming my baggage (I mention this as my fellow passenger above helped me pay up 5$ for the trolley –I would be lost otherwise) and bidding him goodbye, I walked out eager to see my husband, a year after our wedding. As soon as I stepped out, I believed. In spite of the gray dull rainy weather, I could feel the pulse of the city instantly. A city I would call home for Lord knows how long. And it felt good. After a very long time, I sensed I was finally home!
What struck me most about the taxi ride to Jersey City was of course the fare. 94$,tips excluded.Was it just me or is it true with all first timers? Does the forex converter in our brain start ticking automatically? Onwards, caught a glimpse of Broadway (think shopping), Manhattan (think window shopping) and rode into the Holland Tunnel (under the Hudson river); my semi asleep condition forbid my memory cells from accumulating any further visual data. Finally we came to a halt and I was quite awestruck to see my home! Excitement started trickling in and after a quick shower and a short nap,my hubby walked me down to my very first subway ride to 33rd Street.A filling turkey bacon melt , a hot chocolate and an 11 PM movie later, we called it a day!
People here dress alike. One can’t miss the boots every one of them pretty ladies here wear. It’s a fashion no-no to be seen without one. So day two saw me purchase my very own pair of NYC style boots!!Vogue aside, the weather demands it too. Eventually the 21 hour flight started showing its effects on me and jet lag reigned supreme. Now that am over it, I am eagerly waiting to explore this city, every known and unknown aspect of it and share it with my friends and family through this very write up.