Death Is Not The End

We attended a prayer meeting held for the dearly departed father of one of SO's friends in Delhi recently. It was at a Arya Samaj Mandir and I was generally appreciative of the no rites and a sober remembrance thing.

The Pandit (preacher) started off well by chanting Gayatri Mantra and other funereal mantras and shlokas and then, suddenly burst into a very Bollywood, "Chal ud Ja Re Panchi", which startled everyone off their wits and in my opinion woke everyone up and generally made everyone struggle hard not to burst out laughing.

Who needs entertainment, when friends and family offer themselves so readily. Right?

On Happiness

Sometimes happiness is just a plane ride away and it takes you years to buy that ticket.

 

Woe Is Me

The baker got a PHUNKY haircut, and it makes him look like a cross between a macaw and a lunatic, when the aim was a jap hipster. So much fail!

Drunk Mommy

I visited my parents last weekend, across the country. Normally the flight always puts me in a bad mood because after most airlines decided to stop all Calcutta-Pune-Calcutta flights, one has to make a detour via Mumbai, Chenna, Delhi and Ahmedabad. Yes, those are the alternatives. Doesn't make sense to you too, right? What should be a 3 hours flight, now takes 5-7 hours, depending on what route you take/ get/ are lumped with. However, I did not mind the flying time because with time, come riches and flying biz, does tone down those rough edges somewhat. Also, no one was sitting next to me and that ALWAYS is a good thing.

Anyhow, we (parents, my sister's family) have a tradition of going out for dinner whenever my brother and/or I visit my parents. This time, my sister made reservations at some place that no one was over-enthusiastic about and when we started, we decided to go to Stone Water Grill instead. The food was great, not the desserts and a good time was had by all. I ordered a wine, a white Torres Vina Esmeralda, that my wine club had done a tasting of recently, and the entire clan liked it, no mean feat, I can tell you. Even my mother. Now, mom has started drinking wine recently after a holiday with her college friends, who she has reconnected with, after moving to Pune. This always leads to good-natured ribbing, because all these years Mom put on a holier than thou act and it took one holiday with friends for her to get on the wagon!

Anyhow, during the meal, I suggested getting Mom drunk and this tickled my Dad pink and he couldn't stop laughing.

My parents always crack me up. And now, I am all teary-eyed and choked-up.

Doggy Stories - Pilu

I am taking a lot of liberties with this story, mostly because I have heard many different versions of it from my mother, aunties, uncle and grandmother, all of them doubling up with laughter. I am also writing this from the perspective of my mother, simply because her version is what I have heard the most and would be very confusing if I wrote this from my perspective. Also, this is based in the 1960-1970s.

Phuphu (Nickname: Chando, Phuphu means Auntie - father's sister - in Urdu/ Awadhi) was married off to the younger brother of a zamindar/ freedom fighter/ politician/ parliamentarian - who was one of my father's closest friend. Phupha managed the farms/ various rural businesses and was a more than willing supporter of his firebrand brother (more on him later). Some person in gratitude presented Bade Phupha a tiny jet-black great dane puppy one fine day.

Bade Phupha handed it over to Phuphu. Phuphu, not a great fan of dogs, gave it to some servant. The poor puppy cried pitifully all throughout the night. Phuphu being a huge softie, could not stand it and took the puppy under her wing and adopted it. From that day onwards, Phuphu and the dog were inseparable. For reasons that no one in the family could ever explain since, Phuphu named the jet-black great dane "Pilu" (Pilu, literally means yellow fellow).

Phuphu was known to be the nicest, simplest and most soft-hearted person in our family. After Pilu entered her life, Pilu became the centre of attention and the object of her affection. Pilu got a special diet, special attention, special walks, special attendants, special beds. We were all convinced Pilu was the most spoilt dog in all UP at that point, if not all of India. Pilu became Phuphu's son and was probably given more importance and attention than Phuphu's only child, Usha.

Now, when Pilu grew up, one would have expected his great dane characteristics to resurface, right? However, Pilu, apart from being the most spoilt dog known to mankind was also the hugest cowardly dog with not one aggressive gene. Pilu would dive under Phuphu's bed, if someone even sneezed, and would not come out until Phuphu begged him with the softest words and treats. This is not gross exaggeration, but true fact and witnessed by me and my entire family.

Phuphu gradually became obssessed with Pilu's well-being. During summers (these are UP summers, the severity of which cannot be described - just assume it is VERY hot), when coolers and air conditioners were introduced and installed, at Phuphu's, my mother (a very fierce lady) suddenly noticed that there was no relief. On investigation, it was found that Phuphu had turned the blast in Pilu's direction and Pilu was happily lolling with relief. Mother's fury knew no bounds and she reprimanded Phuphu soundly on spoiling a complete waste of a dog, comparing him with Loppy (Her dog at that time and how fierce and useful Loppy was). Phuphu, the meek darling listened to Mother's scolding meekly and after Mother left the room, called Pilu in and in very soothing tones, started petting and soothing him saying, "Pilu, dont get mad, and dont be scared. Mami (Aunty - Uncle's Wife) is very hot tempered and this heat has made her anger boil. But, she's very nice and did not mean to shout at you." Mother sadly overheard this and blew her top on being called Pilu's Mami and accused Phuphu of completely losing her marbles.

Not that Mother's repriminding had any effect on Phuphu and till Pilu's dying day, Phuphu and Pilu were inseparable and Phuphu spoilt the dog silly. The only redeeming factor was that Pilu was as fond of Phuphu, even though he remained a scaredy cat till the end of his days.

Nani Arranges Mother Goose Ensembles At Local Kirtan Mandli

Like a lot of people my age, my parents too packed us off to my maternal grandparents' for our summer vacations. We resented it, because while my classmates had photos of Goa or Bombay or Shimla or 'Whichever US Univ Dad was teaching at', we, 8 times out of 10 were visiting the boondocks (interior Awadh) and had no exotic tales (or so we thought) to relate.

Nani (maternal grandmother) awaited our summer vacations 10 times more eagerly than we did. We were Nani's little showpieces, with multilingual skills (Hindi, Bengali, English and a smattering of German heavily embellished when we faltered), musical abilities (Ha!), dancing talent and various other skills that Nani couldnt wait to show off.

Nani would announce months in advance, our royal arrivals and departures. Every single day, some rural lady would come to gawk and mark attendance in Nani's Court, at us little precocious princelings and princesslings.

This royal appearance would consist of us being first scrubbed from head to toe, being dressed in frocks/ skirts/ dresses or pants/ jumpers (Indian clothes did not hold much favour with Nani who thought them ganwaar and old fashioned), having our hair brushed till it shone (I always suffered because I had hair below my waist and the agony of having it brushed and plaited into neat braids, I will never forget), and putting on socks and shoes in the hottest months of UP. Then after we were suitably attired and checked by martinet Nani, we would be made to sit side by side in Nani's receiving rooms. Only then would the rural (and sometimes not rural) guest be allowed to feast their eyes on us. Our praises would be sung to high heavens. Our beauty would be compared to Lakshmi, Saraswati and Durga depending on the mood and our virtues would be extolled to no end.

Then hot tea or Brahmi Sherbet (I will not care to explain this, for fear that I will start howling and wailing without stopping) or Bael Sherbet or Phalsa Sherbet or Aam Panna or Shikanji or some similar tasty drink would be served with hot pakodas or matthris (Like only women in my family are capable of making and I do not exaggerate when I say this) or some hot snack and ladoos, kachri (rice flour wafers), different kinds of papads, sev, biscuits, halwa and the fruits of the season (more often than not, dassehri or langdas from our orchards) would be served. If the visitor had strained circumstances, a big fat pack of food was prepared to take home. After the heavy nashta, cold water from our wells would be served (I am not maudlin when I say this, but I have never drunk tastier water than the water from our wells and tube wells. Was it the ghaghra -Sarayu river- or what, I dont know). After cold water was gulped down in 1 litre big brass tumblers, it was a signal to the guest that it was time to bid a fond farewell and Nani would start relating what a busy person she was. The guest would then stuff money in our hands (ranging from 2 Rupees to 100-500 Rupees, depending on the socio-economic background) and we would get Nani's signals to touch the guests feet regardless of social stature. The guest would then comment on how well- brought-up we were and depart.

Once a week, Nani would assemble a kirtan mandli, consisting of all the ladies in the village, who would assemble and sing kirtans (hymns) very very tunelessly. Nani had also included folk songs which she would improvise according to the situation. This was also Nani's way of gathering info about the goings-on in the village and was the perfect way of her getting the opportunity to poke her nose in business that most certainly wasnt hers. During our vacations, she would drag us to her kirtan groups and her mandate was that we perform at the events. The performance had to be new and unique and preferably should not be repeated. I, my siblings and my cousin sisters would rack our brains and come up with stuff. So, the good ladies of Ganeshpur were exposed to cultural oddities such as Mother Goose's Bobby Shaftoe, Cobbler Cobbler, The Crooked Sixpence, For Want of a Nail, Little Tom Tucker etc. and also stuff like 500 Miles, O Captain My Captain, Daffodils, Ave Maria, Rabindrasangeet and Nazrul giti, all the chota khayals I sang horribly, I have a dream, Fernando, Brown Girl in the Ring and my sister and my odissi and kathak awful awful recitations. My odissi recital (it was way beyond awful, was a dashavtar piece that I was forced into at school - difference was I did all the parts at Nani's) proved to be the crowd stealer and was mentioned for many years to come. I still chuckle at the memories and how Nani would force junta to form an audience to appreciate her gifted, talented granddaughters and grandsons.

Once we reached our teens, we rebelled and refused to perform. That was the end. Had I known or realised the powerful love behind Nani's orders, I would have danced till my feet dropped off, whenever she wanted me too and sung till I lost my voice. I now know what an amazing powerful force my Nani was and I hope I have even a tenth of the lifeforce she had, and a fraction of the strength she showed till the last breath she took.

Lily, Rosemary And The Jack Of Hearts

So, I asked for flowers and I got flowers. So many flowers, I can't complain, people dont do what I ask them to do. One gigantic bouquet mystified me. A giant, ginormous, life size bouquet of rajnigandhas from lil brother. So, I thanked him for the rajnigandhas and he asked me puzzled, "rajnigandhas?!" Ah brother, how well I know thee! I asked him if he knew that on online sites, rajnigandhas are often labelled as "tubeROSES". Brother said, "Argh! How was I supposed to know?"
Brother dear, had you not thrown a fit ALL those years when your botany/ biology practicals and projects were due, to blackmail me into doing your schoolwork, you would have KNOWN!

Inconvenience Regretted

My parents sent this photo to me and my siblings and said, "Now that we are getting old, we know you three will be inconvenienced far more than we are comfortable. So, we thought this photo was so very apt."
Everytime I look at it, I cry a little. I am the middle child and I remember my father when he would carry all three of us (brother on shoulders, me and my sister in either hand) and my mother when she could dance for hours more gracefully and energetically than our entire class. I don't know what my sister's earliest memories of my parents are, and my brother sadly always saw them somewhat older and much tired. This photo is how I will remember my parents always. Having a ball, whatever their circumstances and always able to laugh and never EVER losing their sense of humour and dignity.

Rehashing Memories

I visited my parents for Diwali this year. Actually one day after Diwali. What made it even better was that both my sister and brother were also able to make it. The 5 of us were under one roof after believe it or not, 11 years. The last time we assembled was during my sister's wedding, and we all know that was the stuff movies are made of, not romantic gooey teary ones, but the slapstick, the world has gone crazy ones. In-laws boycotting. Check. Crazy neighbours tying to gauge groom's age. Check. Father going all pink pagri at the last moment and ordering 50 kgs of Abar Khabo at the last moment (there were about 300 guests). Check. Sister going Bridezilla (This was my first introduction to the species and it was scary). Check. Sarcastic guests (some of who's hearts BIL had broken, no doubt) being nasty. Check. Booze under the Counter. Check. Drunk photographer. Check. Happy times. It was actually side-splittingly funny. Anyway, we were together again after 11 years!

This time it was different and better. There was a new nephew. We were relatively saner. My parents were older and had less energy and if you know my parents, you know in a way, that is good. And what did we do? We talked about old times and we laughed, and laughed and laughed until our bellies ached.

Being The Skeleton In The Closet

So, we're looking for a bride for my brother. My five year younger brother. In fact, I've even started buying clothes to wear in my brother's wedding and we havent (he hasnt) found the bride yet. Mother was telling me about a meeting she had with a lady with a daughter who could be the suitable girl. And she says, "Before anyone else could tell her, I told her - my daughters are very independent minded. The elder one got married to a Bengali man and the younger one is not going to."

So, world, meet plumpernickel - the skeleton in my family's closet.

Always Makes Me Laugh

Mom: Will you miss me when I'm dead and gone?
Me: You'll have to die for that first.

No one else in my family gets it why I and Mom collapse helplessly with laughter at this. Every time.

Just Bumming Around

Sure, I can bum around too, but it is true, I can't live on toast alone.

Pain That Stops and Starts - A Decade

1. It will be ok.
2. I can't manage you, but sometimes maybe you should give it a try.
3. I have many many many demons that we have easily identified. I'm not asking you to slay them, just soothe me while I'm dealing with them.
4. I told you I was contradictory.
5. Sometimes, even the world isnt enough when I need the space. Let me roam.
6. Whats the sense in changing horses in midstream?
7. I am back in the rain and you're on the ledge - You made it there somehow.
8. I'm just like that bird - singing just for you. I hope you can hear. Hear me singing through these tears.
9. Time is a jetplane. It moves too fast.
10. I remember but thats no reason for interrogation. Non?

I got flowers in the spring

I asked for masses of flowers. I got masses of flowers. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you so very much!

My Vada-Pav Eating Expedition

I'm not really into street food. I am however, into Anthony Bourdain. And if Anthony can eat Vada-pav once and dig it, should I not atleast have one Vada-pav experience? So, desperate measures were in order. In desperate times, one turns to moms. Non? So, I rang up mata and explained the dire necessity of eating Vada-pav. I needed to visit Mumbai and partake of Vada-pav or else life was not worth living.

Well, in summary, Veni, Vidi, Veci......

Mata and Mr. Mata dutifully surveyed all the Vadewale in their area and came up with Shreedutt on the Panvel-Pune Highway. This was a sight to watch. No sooner were the vadas out of the kadhai, they landed right in the plates of people who just could not seem to get enough. We also had misal, saboodaana khichdi and kokum sherbet, but thats for another post. The vade were good.
A week after that, I went to Pune to my visit my parents and I related our Vada-pav expedition and my parents told me of Joshi Vadewaale, apparently the best Vadewale of Pune, who according to them must be closed due to Swine flu, because EVERY FUCKING thing in Pune was closed. However, in the spirit of things and to further our Vada-pav research, my father went on an exploratory mission and located 2 vadewaale in Baner (where they stay) - Rohit Vadewaale and one another who's name, sadly I have forgotten now. Anyhow, Vade were obtained "purely for research" - 4 each - Daddy dearest being a scientist always does VERY precise things, and consumed "purely for research"! The things we do for science!

The Other One

Rohit Vadewale

Hmmmmmm..... The truth was that we couldnt decide which were better. According to me, potatoes - good, deep fried in batter - good, soft pav - good, deep fried chillies - good, garlic chutney - good. All together - Good.

However, the Shreedutt vade had an edge because they were piping hot, the garlic chutney had an interesting edge. However, the pav was not so great.

The End!

Mums The Word

Everything tastes better at mom's. EVERYTHING. Even plain roti and dal. Ask my nephew, he'll vouch for it. WHOWOULDVETHUNK? I miss the oldies so much!

Things I Want Before I Die

This post's title's byline should read - I Don't Know Why I Am Posting This.

I love to shop, yet I didn't shop for anything other than tylenol in NY because I didn't have the time! I already have a things to do before I die list (Out of which I have completed one more thing, so its down to 31! Baby steps people! Baby steps!). So I'm posting a "Things I want before I die" list. Also, I will sell-out for atleast 5 of these things, but I'm not telling which. Actually, considering that no one seems to read this blog anymore, I keep asking myself, what is the huge secret, still...

1. Fine china tableware (a full service dinner set and a tea set with a teapot and the works) - wedgwood or royal doulton. Beautiful table ware makes me go eeeee....
2. A huge kitchen and when I say huge, I mean HUGE - 1000 sq ft Huge - all my ex-apartments and my very own current darling apartment have tiny kitchens where I can barely store my stuff or move around (however, I have pulled off a 4 course, cooked from scratch - I didn't mill the flour or anything, but I don't use any mixes ever - dinner and lunches for over 8 people, so I know if one really wants to cook, one can) and in my dream house I want a HUGE kitchen and a HUGE pantry.
3. A black and a neutral trench coat that I can wear all my life and that make me look slim.
4. A vineyard and an orchard where I want to grow figs, loqats and peaches.
5. A picasso, a chagall, a subodh gupta, a raza, a warhol, a britto, a hussain and a kingshuk sarkar.
6. A voter's identity card.
7. My grandmother's (either - both were very spirited, independent and strong-willed) or father's determination and resolve.
8. My mother's recipes for making gujiyas and mathris - she grudgingly gave them to me, but I know she's left out something because mine just don't taste the same, when I asked her, she said - the ingredients are not the same quality!
9. A Bergama and a Milas carpet each - oh the beauty!
10. Lots and lots of shoes - only italian please, I tried out a million manolos and choos but I know I can't walk in them, on the other hand my coccinelle shoes are darlings. I spent 6.5 hours in them on my feet about 10 days back - 2.5 inch heels - and neither did my feet swell, nor did I get any corns, I was just tired and if thats not a good shoe, I don't know what is.

These are things I really, really want. I don't think I can afford any of the above right now, but planning now sure seems a good idea.

Giant Hug

I tell Mr. Know-all the Neph that I want to give him a giant hug. The kid is really sad, and says, "But you can't do that Mausi*, you're there and I'm here." I say, "Yes, that's why I'm feeling so bad." The Neph says, "Ok, let me see what I can do. Mausi! please put your hands inside the phone."

Now, I really need the neph's Giant Hugs and I would give anything to see his million watt smiles.

*Mausi - Aunt (Mother's Sister in Hindi)

Things My Parents Say

Like all long-married couples, my parents too have millions of complaints against each other. My favourite one remains my parents most scornful dismissal of each other, when they are mad with each other and often, as if its a fresh insight into their 33 years-ago-married spouse, "Beta! I hate to say this, but your father/ mother has essentially a FEUDAL attitude!"