To the spirit of Kolkata & its joie de vivre

...glued to the sights and sounds of the city, the North India based writer of this post living paralleled to colours and conundrums of the city. 

 

On a dewy petrichor of the post-rain afternoon

Kolkata was before her as a land of promise

A fusion of modernity and old school - unpolished. 

And, as the days passed…

Nudging her towards the art of free - wheeling conversation 

often prolonged;

that comes naturally to every bong*. 

 

Encouraging her – the river Hooghly 

To move forward

To have a soul that welcomes deep healing. 

 

The city, where her bhalo naam*

is as common as her daak naam*

Anushree - the roots of the name has Bengal fame. 

 

Remembrance of her mother’s amber blushed tea

On summer afternoon sultry

Nothing could remind her of Meerut more

…here after all - all are cha-khors*!

 

True...that her dadi’s gujiya* was second to none

But here she ferociously devoured herself on the sourness of the desserts

Peculiar were the taste…but so were the other things.

 

There were;

The Feluda series…delighting the adventure seeker in her

The Boi mela*…delighting the bookworm in her

The Bandor Topi*…cushioning the thin blooded like her

The Madhyamik*…engaging the philomath in her

 

Yellow were the cabs

And, so was she wrapped in colour of basant

The kind of yellow - of warmth of thousand splendid Sun

The kind of yellow that shows that the world may be blushy pink, envious green, gloomy grey, icy blue, but it could never ever be an impenetrable black!

 

And as more days passed by- she was witness to

That huge wave of humanity and human emotion

the day Durga Puja bisorjan happened

Humbling was the experience

As she too left behind her roots

 

…With the belief

Sighroi abar dekha hobe*.

............................................................ 

*Bong: A slang term for Bengalis

*Bhalo naam: Proper name used for official purpose

*Daak Naam : Pet name

*Cha-khors : Lovers of tea

*Gujiya : Indian sweet

*The Boi mela : Book fair 

*Bandor Topi : Monkey cap 

*Madhyamik : Examinations

* Sighroi abar dekha hobe : See you soon

PHOTO CREDIT- GOOGLE

 

Homecoming...

This summer, like all summers, the mango tree across my parents home's balcony beckoned me to come home. I went. Very few experiences match the delight of homecoming...

In the martaban* of my mother's kitchen
Pickled and soured for ages...

Hanging peacefully amidst the noise of aroused crickets
In the endless hours of early morning...

In the hues of many shades- red, green and yellow
but each one tasting different from other...

Aimed by the mango- pluckers
Lying on the astonishing gold blanket of leaves on the ground...

Covered with dirt carrying sweat and dust
bearing the vagaries of tumultuous storm...

My tree, the home of ant and squirrels
waking up daily to the sound of koel...

My tree, aging by oblivion
Sight of which, the constant companion to my father's cup of tea...

Every year I wait eagerly
for my childhood friend homecoming...

For her to revel in the most awaited feast of the summers
the delightful fragrance of my sap filling the air...

Here, I am the mango
of the humble mango tree!


*a large glazed pottery jar originally made in lower Burma and used especially for domestic storage (as of water or food)

Source : Blogger's phone

Go Goa

Speaker 1: "You see, we here in Italy believes in "Dolce Far Niente". That's the word! Basically means - The sweetness of doing nothing".


                                                              - Excerpts from the movie - Eat, Pray, Love.

When Ambassadors with number plates starting with GA beckons you with pride, it is exactly at that moment you have a realization that long lost art and the enriched past of ours is savoured in this part of India. A place which is reveling in beauty of nature and a vibrant ecology.

In 2019, where else will you find yourself having a ride on Ambassadors, the black and yellow cravings of our parents?

A journey of about 3 hours from North, (time includes that half an hour ride on the Ambassador to my hotel too), as soon as we landed on the reddish soil of Goa at midnight, we were intoxicated by the air of the place.  And, then it was not about Italy only.

Goa boasts of taking pleasure one gets from being idle. That ability to completely enjoy and savour a moment. For Goans, it was beautifully engraved in their life when I saw them at a café at the midnight and walking along the beach. They have embraced it and is something that they do very well.

Jet-lagged, we took to our bed only to realize that it would be our only night when we could slept for some six hours. Our rest of the night stays were spent lying down on the beach, gazing stars, having Feni. And, we were not the only ones. Goans start their day at the midnight. Well, Goa is an island of beaches. Our best friend, Google, recommended that it is best to stay near a beach. So, we were at Baga Beach Resort, just a few footsteps away from the Baga beach.
 
Next morning, before the break of the dawn, we were on the beach, sunbathing, with sand all over us. The coarseness of the sand bothered us for a while and it was just then at that moment, we started realizing that Goa is not for the faint-hearted. The sand left us with bruises to cherish for sometime. The numb fingers and swollen toes were the trophies we carried with us from the journey. The beach of Goa was spectacular with a gaiety of colourful parade of floating T-Shirts and crabs hiding behind the rocks, from the visitors' view.

Day two, we were parasailing over the Arabian Sea, as overwhelming as it sounds, so was it. Blood frozen, we were some 30 feet above the sea, flying loosely in the air. It was just a beginning because adrenaline further rushed in when waves touched our feet when we were dropping down to land on the boat.

The last day, we kept for visiting the historical places. Basilica of Bom Jesus stole the show with its magnificent architecture. Describing Goa as having quite a few churches would be an understatement. There was this magic in the slow travel hopping from one church to another, those memorable stops and heart to heart conversations which were supplemented by rustic air around.

During our stay for three days, we also noticed that there were only a handful of cars and more of two-wheelers, with Royal Enfield ruling the roost. The economy of the state allowed the residents to delve into the luxury of using high-end phones.* No wonder, we could only find iPhone billboards flashing at every nook and corner.

Radhika, our little one, carrying the iron-laden reddish soil in a packet, was delighted to show the soil to her friends. Gleefully, she was going gaga over the fact that she had made many castles out of that soil on the beaches. I couldn't dig into the best of the culinary world, with Goa offering seafood largely. We did, however, enjoyed our bottle of Feni leaving us with a taste of cashew to relish.
  
My only regret, we missed Mapusa fair which happens on Fridays as we were on our flight back to Delhi on Thursday evening.  To pick up on the local culture, this fair is a must. 

So, what we realized is that it takes more than one visit to feast on the glory of Goa!

*Goa is India's richest state with the highest GDP per capita – two and a half times that of the country – with one of its fastest growth rates: 8.23% (yearly average 1990–2000).

Thou bittersweet, O motherhood!

Journey of a mother as her daughter turns four ...

A motherhood is 

...a day old clothing
uncombed hair 
before you could blink shower 
pyjamas with smeared hand prints all over
dishes filled sink
a grubby house 
unmade beds 
ever growing laundry
the art of cleaning the same place many times a day and still failing

...to bruised knees 
a tycoon hit looking living room after you return from work 
3 AM wake ups and 1 PM bedtimes when your child is sick 
being on-call 24/7 – no pay and no day-offs 
going from ‘Yuck!’ to ‘Here, wipe it on my shirt'
drinking reheated tea at least 5 times 
reading “The Alchemist” till eternity because every time you pick the book, the apple of your eye decides to poo 
tidying, feeding, talking and answering 
All at the same time.

Phew!!!

but...being a mommy   

is about joyful hearts.
is about magical kisses.
is having the entire world in your hands when those tiny hands hold you tight.
is a sink full of dishes but a house filled of laughter. 
is draining but exhilarating.
is the hardest and the happiest hood ever.

Being mother soothes.
It is about doing it again and again…gleefully!

Picture Credit : Scribbles by Radhika (My mother is in shape!) :D

Make up

Dear therapist,

Thank you for your discernment and for giving free insights every time. For that each time when you say that relying on makeup indiscreetly talks about withered self-esteem and insecurities. Every time, when you recommended me to go out without wearing makeup for a day and see how it feels.

Well, I think it is time to have a look at your prescription all over again.

Makeup. I love using it and I use it just because I love using it, in spite of the fact, that though, as a society we have come a long way in terms of opening up of our mindset and also makeup has been around for ages, painted faces are still judged for using it. I cannot deny, the act of using make up can be cost prohibitive and can fan our sense of vanity. That, make up, can be a luxury, often made to procure by persistent marketing strategies, played by ruthless advertisements.

However, in today's scenario, which talks about women independence and indulgence she should get in unabashedly, I think using make up can speak a lot about her affluence (her prerogative to pamper herself).

So, if we go under the skin on such issues , there are many underlying nuances that come to the fore.

Well, leaving it on that note, as I start penning down... these are some often heard musings, some times overheard.

"Skin damage nahin hoti, roz make up karne se."
"Itna time mil jata hai subah subah?, followed by their pious ‘I don’t get time for these things!’
"Natural looks ki baat hi kuch aur hoti hai!"
"You look pretty without make up", well that's my father, usually. :)
And, lately someone was like " You can't be a feminist, if you use make up so often".
And, best is that when someone says main toh sirf marriages main hi lagati hoon make up.", much to my surprise - marriages! like really! I am not a grammar nerd, but, I think that saying just wedding would have suffice. Ha!

So, today, here I am like,

...2-3 minutes it takes to apply make up and I never found the skill of time management difficult, especially in the morning.

...try good herbals goods, (well, market is flooded with those now), why will you suffer with a damaged skin. In fact if you will worry what others do, you will definitely have one.

...To Papa, and few more, :) I appreciate the compliment, no one can ever find me more beautiful than you do, but I don't put on the make up thinking that I am hideous.

...And, you see the irony is that most of times I get to hear this natural thing by someone who likes the idea of getting under the knife for cosmetic surgeries. And, who knows if they ever went through one.

... I don't like to be framed as a feminist, but Google suggests that being feminist doesn't stop you from doing things which you like, definitely not wait for someone else wedding.

So, dear therapist, It is a choice. Putting on makeup. Same as the choice to decide what to wear and what to eat. Stop objectification of a woman. We don't put on make up to be a eye candy.



Thanks again,
A make up aficionado.

                                  ~~~~~

P.S.

The post credit :

...Never to go astray
Leaving behind the path as black as coal
Memorized has that path, my black eyeliner
It is its favourite path to trail.

                                                ~ Anonymous

Toh ek cup chai ho jaye?

Tap tap. "Tea?" 

Asks rain each time.  And, an old school, preferring tea over any other beverage, I welcome this benign invitation, with open arms, that very each time.

Not just rains, every morning when dawn breaks, a cup of tea beckons me while the world sleeps. An early riser, my mornings begin with preparation of a kind of tea. The kind, which has a carefully crafted scientifically deducted recipe in which I take pride the way these Pepsis manufacturers do. Tea, carries for me reminiscences of my  childhood days, when getting up in the morning as a child, the first thing I would see was my Mummy having her tea. Over the past years, now when I am Mummy to a four year old, my morning routine has changed to a large extent. Amongst other changes is that I've also joined in my mother's morning routine, albeit, sitting at a different postal address. My mornings thinks, and so does my mother, that it is very respectable to do nothing at that first cup of tea. 

And, so therefore love of the tea, travelled with me even after when I left school to pursue further studies.  It remained a daily need in my hostel days, much to my friends' ridicule. In the early mornings of North Campus at Delhi University it was one of the things that felt like home, away from home.

Years passed, and even now when I have an extended family, sitting for chai is a daily ritual that gives the family some much needed time together. 

However, if you have experienced it too, a cup of tea can best be enjoyed all by yourself too. Honestly, for me it has been one of those few best company when I just want to clear my head. And the amount of times it has sat with me through my exams I've pulled, makes it my saviour. 

So, everyday I see love around me over a cup of tea. I see it in the evening over a cup of tea with my in- laws. I see it in my husband who makes an effort to ask me how my weekdays went, over a cup of tea on weekends. I see and feel the love for myself, while sipping it alone. 

Any tea lover would know exactly what I'm talking about. 

Toh ek cup chai ho jaye, and as you relish a sip, just think over, "Why a biscuit when dipped in water forms bubbles ?"

Real thinking happens on a cup of tea, at times. I told you.


                             


Picture credit : Google

Hoi polloi treading the alleys of Meerut

She is many things – a nurturer, a confidant, an amateur writer, a career woman. But at the moment that she watches her father sitting near her, she is just a daughter !

Rusted, cracked, gone parched over the years 

The wall still stood strong.

Withered, stooped, dried over the years 

The tree still rooted strong.

Dusty, monotonous, breathless gone over the years 

The clock still run strong.

Wrinkled, freckled, turned salt and pepper over the years

The mane still shine strong. 

The city which a daughter calls her hometown

There lives a man who possesses no brawn. 

A man who amongst the hoi polloi treading the old lanes of town 

embodies the tress, the tree, the clock and the bound.

For the face that still stood strong and is one in a million! 

The man whom his daughter calls Papa.

The daughter who wallows in neither prejudices nor chauvinism 

But with a demeanour festooned with steely aspires and confidence to the brim

Attempts each day to tread the footprints left by him. 

Hopes alive, that one day , she too will be remembered for a heart

that cannot be  easily forgetten amongst the hoi polloi treading the old lanes of Meerut.  

Smile adorns her eyes in the morning sun

Seeing him ruminating,

He, a few golden rays relishing.

She turns around once again, and ponders,

The ageing wisdom, it takes years and not a day,

You will have to wait, she says.