The reluctant food writer

My reluctance to write food articles have nothing to take as dearth of readership. But something else, as bloggers are congenially bore. They are aerial souls, who get delight to soar the sky instead to walk. So some maniac behaviors are normal to some of them. When everybody in the bash talks, they prefer mum and scrutinize others. Back home when the normal unwinds in front of TV and cozily snugs in the bed, the marooning soul will torment the brain to stir out stuffs.

Now back to the work, food article! Yes, I do cook for my family. My favorite watch on TV is TLC. Does merely watching TLC qualify one as a food writer? I mean here, that I researched enough how to present the words and foods items aesthetically.

But real crook here is something else! The muse of food comes to me in terms of calories and its benefit. Whenever I cook my attention gets fixed on calorie and taken oil rather than taste. Recently during Holi festival while frying the bara- my attention was in the frying oil, maintaining the heat as over heating at smoking level is not conducive to health- it increases the LDL –the bad cholesterol. The entire concept of molecular biology was floating in the frying pan. Naturally the baras were of different geometrical shape. With accumulating guilt I completed the frying work, incurring the karmic effect of sinful act-to load the unsuspecting family members to those extra…..

When I dine I say hello to those few recipes only which my palate is acquainted. The fusion food and all different genres of experimental food appeal me visually only. I don’t see any valid reason to try them. The pretext of trying food of distant shore makes me nostalgic and I get feel of bartering my own family members to foreigners.

Any sweet dessert gives a good quiver to my pancreas. Even the soft textured syrupy gulab jamun hardly entice me. No I don’t have ailment, instead I horrify to have one! While eating and viewing others, I get more concerned about how a poor pancreas would have to cope up with the barbaric attitude of the diner. I am always towards the rescuers side rather than inflictor.

Still there is hope I can write about diet food, not a bad idea after all. “But any way, who is going to eat the stuff of my research?-I and hubby,” he cannot escape me. As a newlywed on several occasions he had boosted my spirit by mouthing terrible stuffs cooked by me, simply to check my tears and guilt-earning my faith in parents’ choice and arrange marriage. Children cannot be trusted. Perhaps I missed to inculcate politeness in them that to refuse food doesn’t come as good manner.

Now a pertinent point to mull! After all we have five sense organs, then why to encourage single one. Listening to palate only! Are the over activation of taste buds and single zone of brain good idea, not at all? Distribute the work and engage every sense organ to use. Instead of eating enjoy watching the color and smell of the food. Why to strain the system by eating it and loading the unwanted calories?

So what is going to be food item of my write up? Well, salads-easy to make and rich source of nutrients, tea-full of antioxidant and brain booster, sprouts- full of beneficial enzymes, roughage and toxin buster. Quite confident! Yes, I can write about any.

But, now feeling a bit uncomfortable- a pang in the stomach! In the evening with a cup of tea I had started the musing. It is dinner time now, better to take refuge in food cooked by my help and postpone the idea for the while. Good night!

The Bubble Of Busy Bee

“Ooph how busy am I ?” (Others don’t have anything to do).
Typed few lines …(the eyed widened admiringly “how intellectual I am- only while I comment on the write up of different blogs the winged concord of language fly off like a treacherous fellow). “What to do?”- it was kitchen call –whistling cooker or buzzing oven.

“Hey I am able to catch my thoughts now I have every reason and might to torture people. How aptly these days I dole out recipes to bore others?” “How intellectual am I?” (Others are vernacular dumb and mute).

My sharpest intellect can parallel with PM’s brain. How he maintains his cool among all scams and clamors of opposition. I too maintain my calm through my ever changing portfolios and clamors of unfinished works. My portfolios changes in after every fifteen minutes (others don’t multitask as they stay on other planet).

“What if the rank on IndiVine dropped? Take refuge in Bhagwad Gita’s wisdom. After all what is in the rank? "(Other good rank holders show their clinging to material possessions- renounce the world and rank).

At last Busy Bee dished out a write up- despite being burdened with the busiest schedule more than Obama—posted it.. O.K. done..
Next (Here on IndiVine, customarily-vote to be voted).

Door bell rang ..Oooph again …change of portfolio..
Madame X(neighbor) at the door-“what a visual delight to welcome them - digital ten-10” with her towering spouse. A generous smile stretched up to the ears on Mam Busy Bee’s face (in the guilt of avoiding her twice on previous occasions).
Philosophical again-“So what every moment is changeable, why to remember past?”
Just concentrate on present stuff who knows she might prove a complete package of best humor -watch, write and bore.

Bad fashion day.

Click here to join Brandmile and get the chance to win exciting prizes.

While watching a program 'Total Recall' on the telly, the evergreen love song Baharo Phool Barsao, by the legendary Md. Rafi, took me back to the bustling revelry of my wedding day.

The elaborate and exhausting rituals had already sapped the last ounces of energy out of me. I had previously spared no excuses in trying to convince my parents to postpone my marriage on the pretext of this and that. I was one unwilling bride, but soon I'd run out of ways to dupe my honest folks. As a result of my foolish strategies, I had to 'undertake' the ceremony a few months before my exams and I was left to pull my hair out in the horror of the upcoming exams.

Busy contemplating the would-be outcomes of exams just after the wedding and the proposed honeymoon, I was in a blank and shocked state of mind, on the D Day, merely watching my married sister and cousins work on their beauty and offering random tips. All of them were enthusiastically and happily working their way for the beauty pageant that evening. My sister, unlike me, hardly ever left an opportunity to dress up and try to look her best.
After every ritual, as I came into the room, she'd show me something new and ask for my suggestions which I'd duly offer. My exasperated brother-in-law failed miserably in his attempts to reason with her and make her understand the real importance of the day. I was too preoccupied with the various rituals to bother with looking beautiful, having anyway given up on the whole concept way back. But my sister wasn't in the mood to give up on me just yet.

Soon afterwards, the strains of Baharo Phool Barsao resonated through the air, acting as a signal that mysteriously put everyone, including my mother and sister, in an emergency mode. Both jumped onto their toes, very literally, throwing terrified glances in my direction. I returned them with placid, Buddha-like looks, from under the layers of turmeric paste and betel leaves. Suddenly, though, I was being subjected to action. I felt the pressure as someone tried to shove a bathing cap on my head, which was futile, owing to my knee-length tresses. Someone slid plastic gloves over my mehendi-stained hands as the shower came on, with numerous hands scrubbing me. God knows how many of them were with me, under that shower, drenching their finery.
Next, I was subjected to cosmetic weapons in the dressing room. After a few minutes and an uncountable number of hands later, I emerged, a few kilos heavier due to the make-up and in a heavy Jaipuri lehenga. I was then marched to the next scene of action, the stage, with an entire battalion of iconic beauties. At the stairs, however, I ran into Mr. Precise, my elder brother, who'd come forward to take stock of the situation. He suppressed a shriek after one look at me and did the only thing he could, at that point of time: put a rather heavy dupatta over my head.
I got onto the stage, supported by numerous hands, conscious of the loud revelry and the frenzied, palpating whoops.
"What a personality, what fair skin!"
My mind grasped the meaning of those words and figured I didn't fit into the description, at least not now. Frantic, but not yet losing my cool, I pulled my dupatta down and flung the garland around the neck of the tower in front of me who was trying desperately to steal a glance at me.

Now, with grown up children, I've still sworn off make-up and in my opinion, it best suits me.

Life as a full circle

Life is a full circle, whatever goes up is bound to bounce back. Traditionally, off springs are tagged as prosperity in life. But, when the prosperity falls in the lap unexpectedly, it bound to startled one.But clouded in mysticism of  newly honored status of motherhood  and charmed with innocent divinity, we tend to forget the world in the bliss.

Though walking the path of motherhood the acquired prosperity soon forces us to be the mean to run the daily business of life as the simple means sometimes prove maimed.

However sometimes i found myself, at the nervy edge even with so called enjoyment. When the child was small, the crabbiness was unavoidable.Tired to the center, coping with all that I would often hear comments from elderly side –“Your generation loses composure so easily, see I had four children but I would hardly lose my composure.”

Although the powerful claim of my mother met the dust in the next few days, when she had been left with little one.That to with the unfortunate task to feed her the breakfast in a chilly winter month. After my return I found my mother almost in tears, shaking in guilt with her food bowl. Like a child with accumulated guilt of non performance she admitted that feeding a child like her was the most difficult task on the earth. Till then chortling in joy the bundle of energy supported  mother's failure with grin.the Full of energy the  bundle of joy taken her benevolence on complete ride. In more than half an hour she did everything except allowing the food in her mouth, laughing to charm her, hurting her gum in the process and then demanding the proximity of lap, smearing the liquid food all over her face and on the woolens of each other.


Then in that, bleak moment of exertion which parenting entailed, I would console myself that in few years when they would grow up the work would be lesser automatically.

But when asked honestly- “Are the problems of lives meant to be solved.” No they are not, they would be never be, “one have to generate strength and tolerance levels.” A vital lesson which comes to us belated like hard earned wisdom of spirituality which makes the entry in life after most of the sufferings.

So in parenting, the job of managing and cooking of the food is ours but the tastes are theirs. They shall take their meal in time or not, headache is ours, but the moods they have.

It’s their right to access all the facilities of modern gadgets and privacy of being on their own, but all the risk involved in accessing the powerful threatening gadgets by them, is ours. It’s our pain to get acquaint our self with know how to solve all expected problems they can generate with the high speed gadget, which came much later in our life than theirs. Despite all these risks it is our responsibility to provide them with the indispensable immunity of ours that they are not being heard or their personal space is not trespassed.

Whenever all these happen once again I console myself, “Only change is permanent in the life. The life is full circle, so I decided to wait for my day to enjoy, when I would witness the repeat of wondrous prosperity in the life doer of today. And then silently watching them i will feel the bliss and will comment like an enlightened one – “Your generation loses cool very easily.”

weird and wonderful

Have you ever faced the people who always  enjoyed being on the other side of the fence? Specially when you need or expect a real nod of his or her while you were dealing with outside world.

 But ironically they do  reverse of the expectations. But still it is enticing once one  get the taste of it as one finds it irresistible to leave the game mid way. Once tasted it, it is almost impossible to give up. The magical enticement of being on the other side of the fence and to enjoy is one weird pleasure which my family inherited.

But i faced the challenge since my birth.So with time I started taking pleasure in it. Not only this  i got charmed with him. Now i found the fellow of the other side of the fence so irresistible. To hate him or her is  impossible even I  try. I  ended in  loving him or her more.

Strange, weird, difficult or simply different, whatever they are  named, are here in our lives—the weird and wonderful.

What are they actually? Do we really need a tinge of weirdness in our lives? Well, these genres are actually spices of life. The life gets seasoned with the multifarious ones. It simply acts as the taste booster.

The strangest thing I found about myself is I love weird and wonderful people of my life. I love all critics of my life. 

For instance when I got placement,
blinded with sisterly love  I shared the pleasant news to  my sister. In response I found her more serious. She responded in quite quirky way, “So you got the job and now you will teach, --What?” and she nostalgically started reminiscing the bygone era.  How on the report card day she,a topper would decor her academically won medals on my chest wiping my tear flooded eyes not getting any and  consoling me all over, "It is  yours, you take this.It looks really beautiful on you." And completely consoled and satisfied I would stupidly march along her for the home.

And here is another one,despite dissipating my precious energy on my dotting one, my daughter,after a long cajoling and explanation on the health issues and safety.I get straight away her reply—“Mom, we won’t talk on this issue, I don’t want to, sometimes even bolder confession, "Mom, I won’t do as you suggested,” and then already exhausted I ponder," Honesty is good but this is not too much ,even hard to digest." Still the love does neither melt nor my liking to the weird and wonderful.

Here is another instance,the boldest of the list, who always prefered to be on the other side of the fence. When I suggest for a walk he will give excuse of  long hours of his work. His excuse leaves me in  me wonder,reading newspaper and watching TV certainly do not cost any energy. “What an energy booster techniques, only accessible to married man?”

Even on the tours, while shopping, standing beside me he takes side of the shopkeeper. Once taking evening walk with him, the sight of vegetable market enticed me and after much persuasion we entered in the market. The bargain of small boy selling green coriander left me puzzled. So I tried to show him the reason-“How can you charge rupees three for one bunch where as rupees five for two bunches”, while I was midway in my bargaining the hubby dear, with big grin supported the child, “Hey don’t give, she has been doing too much bargain”. Even my angered glance did not stop him taking the side of others. But I am too made up of hard stuff So I assure myself, it's ok if you can not help me in  the bargain, I have another good job for you and that is lifting the vegetables bag.

But the oddest one is the sweetest memoir- when my ailing mother, after calling me demanded that I should visit her urgently, as she was not feeling well. Being aware of her incurable ailment and her failing health my heart sank and my throat choked. Through out  my life i had brought smile on her face with my weird and lovable pranks. That moment also the child in me wanted to see smile on her face and craved for the musical laughter of her. From the other side, on the call I somehow  checked the  heaviness of my voice and  flooded tears.  Somehow I managed to stage my familiar recklessness to her, “No, no I won’t come,you get well on your own. You are very tough person and you nag me enough, I am feeling more safe here”, Accustomed with my familiar weirdness my mother had a heartiest laugh that still echoes in my memory. After a week she left us for the haevenly abode. But still her last chuckle echoes  in my heart, which i reverently recall with her memory.Therefore I feel, if weirdness brings smiles on the face of our people then it is thing to cherish.

Are you listening---?

Full of charm and the cynosure of the lot, I was dazzlingly displayed in a swanky mall. The carefree leisurely souls or the time constrained one, whoever dropped over there everyone halted before me and went in irresistible temptation to own me. Big and small, young and old each of them gazed at me admiringly.

In the harmonious melody in the ritzy ambiance-my heart beat for the beautiful one. My soft suede skin and elegant design had enough appeal to put someone at hold. Some of them got in awe catching glimpse of mine, they nudged one another out of admiration. Soaked in my irresistible admiration some of them hold me lovingly and gave lovely glances. In their sensuous aura I resonated. I enjoyed when I was put in their beautiful arch— still I had been waiting for my special one. As the smartest and debonair in entire lot I deserved the best. So I waited for my charming girl.

And then she came—the pearly dream—the carelessness lyrically inbuilt—the glow and velvety touch intact—along with- a serious, hard packed soul. A virtual tag traditionally floated around the serious soul, “Don’t mess up with me and my daughter” . Imbibing the soothe of the pristine one, I sighed, “The hardness well spent nourishing the pristine one” .

My heart thumped and a harmony blended in the spirit –when the velvety flawless thing picked me up—with the gleam in her eyes she gazed at me. Glancing with besieging glow she put me in her sole. The touch and caress were heart drenching which I had longed. She singled me up and sailed to her mother –to show her pick. My heart pounded, for looming rejection while undergoing the x-ray screening by the serious soul. To get access of the pristine one, I accepted the endurance.

Then I was packed and brought to home and got a nice place to lodge. My upkeep and care were ensured. I was enjoying my company with vibrant one. Then it fell in my ear the holiday was over. I reciprocated the news with a beating heart hoping the mingling and mixing in another excited world. I enjoyed the prospect of persistent proximity with velvety touch and a respite from getting hesitant by the scrutiny of now and then by the hard, tough gaze.

In the campus I skimmed in the proximity of vivacious lot—I walked, I sailed ,I danced and I enjoyed the complete vibrations of pulsating ambiance.

But then I felt that I was missing on something. Amidst all that roller coaster ride of joy there was something basic needed by a sane soul. It made me puzzled, “what is that”?

Then slowly I craved back my clean, gleam look. Though sometime I did crave for a nice clean bath but that was O.K. Every morning that velvety proximity would let me forget all about dos and don’ts.

After long months of wait –now once again I was at home with a hope of clean shine look. The summer advanced in the sweltering heat- my longing for bath still remained unfulfilled.

Now a days—I feel more attached to that stern voice when in suppressed annoyance she would declare-“today you will certainly clean your shoes otherwise I won’t allow it in the closet”.

Ignored and lying at the corner of open space I longed and admired the traffic of my tribe. Who were in their neat and shining self making in and exit of the snugly lodging. I appealed, “Are you listening—?

Who is the boss?

Kinship, I find  sweet and sour by nature yet  it is most tingling spice of life. We have one life then why don’t we make most of it?

Now on practical level the key question in bond ship is bound to arise who keeps authoritarian edge over the other.  Usually relationship is  supposed to be equal but in every relation it is tilted to one side.

But why complain about it? When one has been enjoying it? Most of us are genetically inclined to enjoy bent of kinship's in own favor that is why the rule of equality in the relationships becomes the preferred choice of extinction.

Give attention on any relations for instances spouses, two friends, father-son, mother-daughter or vice versa, one out of two always keeps his or her position elevated, out  of love or convenience.

My husband, a techi when he was in initial years of job often during conversation with his  his colleagues or juniors,he  would be referred as BOSS by them. My daughter,an enquisitive little doll then,was busy in expanding her horizon of vocabulary and learning. Whenever she would hear someone addressing her dad as BOSS she  would get alert. And leaving her engrossment mid way she would pop query to her dad –“Why does uncle call you boss?” And puffed with pleasure my hubby would reply her as I am senior than him.

Whenever she would listen him referring someone  SIR(specially on calls) with equal curiosity she would again confront him. The hubby dear taking full advantage of her cute ignorance would prefer to elevate his junior position. And laughingly answer her," Actually I am the highest boss at the office. Thus when any one calls me BOSS I have to refer him SIR.”

Keeping faith in her father explanation, the cute little soul would chose to go in loving hug of her father, echoing with fun and laughter rather than bothering to reach the truth of the clarification.

 But the things started changing with rolling times.Soon she not only gasped the meaning of the words but started weighing the status of the involved persons while they would refer one another.Till then constraint of words and explanation more attention on the matter would bring more confusion in her mind.

One day unable to resist she decided to clerify it with her aunt. She asked her, “Isn’t it true that who is higher at the position should take the decision and frame rules.” Her aunt lovingly helped her –“Yes, definitely,whoever will be at higher position would be allowed to make the decisions.” 

 Then the littly doll popped her most confusing question-“But how come ,mom frames the rule and makes the decisions at home.”  Then, with confused look she drew nearer to her aunt and with perplexed eyes she added-“Yesterday when mom was annoyed, she was  irrigated....  ---.” 

During their meeting oblivious of the topic, I entered in the room  to face her aunt giggling. A baffled expression appeared on her cute  face which conveyed everything to me.

 When I remembered day before's my low mood   i thanked my stars that I married a mam's boy with inbuilt virtue of obedience otherwise a reckless free soul could have given me a good ride.

While I witnessed my daughter's inquisitiveness on daily basis,I learnt the lesson to clarify my position well in advance in any dealings.It helps me to build my position. Weighing my position in advance gave me ample time to  tilt it in  my side at anytime.

Thus these days, at work place whenever any colleague comes with suggestions for the job of the day, I instantly shot the key question-“Are you  suggesting me  or bossing me?” Few wisdom oriented soul opt to say,"Actually we come to learn, Then puffed with pride of bossism i answer them,“That is fine.”I am too confident these days, asking them —"Welcome to my umbrella of bossy--- ?