Notes from the mailbox: Teach Me How to make Daal Chawal, I need to impres...

Notes from the mailbox: Teach Me How to make Daal Chawal, I need to impres...: Have you ever come across a typical Indian family at a gathering? Well if you haven’t, then trust me, it is nothing less a Karan J...

Teach Me How to make Daal Chawal, I need to impress the in laws!!

Have you ever come across a typical Indian family at a gathering? Well if you haven’t, then trust me, it is nothing less a Karan Johar movie. Yes, we have all sorts of characters under one umbrella. And most of the time we manage to dodge the rain without getting drenched.

We may complain about the eavesdropping, my-business-is-everyone’s-business, choked environment (similar to what molecules feel in an ice cube) but life is far better with all the complaints than having no one to care for. In such surroundings, we always have that one uncle or aunt in our family who manages to impart their unwarranted wisdom on pretty much everything. Starting from what should be eaten for dinner to have effortless stools the following morning, on advising what color sari will suit the new bahu (daughter-in-law). The unlucky ones are blessed with a dozen of 'that' kind. And when they all come together, it is nothing less than a cacophony of our Indian Parliament session.

Most of the young Indian girls try their hand in cooking when they have visitors around, to impress the guests and to hone their hospitality skills. I was no different. I took great interest in cooking. And I took greater interest in serving that charred over cooked chicken tikka masala to my loved ones. My lack of expertise in the kitchen game (mom being my referee) was always overlooked by flooded compliments and endearing words of encouragement that I steadily managed to tear down the kitchen brick by brick with my experiments.

Naïve that I was, always enjoyed the attention and smiled when my relatives told my parents that she had all the qualities of being a dutiful daughter-in-law. And when I realized that the world was my oyster, I was taken to a room only to be informed that my folks have chosen a suitable candidate for me. (It’s pretty much like running for elections…like me…vote for me!!!)

  

Amidst all the chaos, the girl (who once thought she had wings to fly) was wondering why did she throw away her dolls because at that moment all she wanted to do was brush her doll’s hair and hum her favorite lullaby which her dad would sing to her every night before she rested her eyes with belief that she will be protected, loved just the way he did when she was a little girl.

Family is like an armor that each one of us wear everyday with pride. It protects us like how a lion protects its cub from all the wilderness. Family accepts one’s flaws with utmost sincerity and defends its members like the last man standing on the battle field. For a toddler, she sees the society through the lens of her family…a family that she believes in, cares for and stands by even when walks out of the door to build another household!!

Notes from the mailbox: Mundane Mornings

Notes from the mailbox: Mundane Mornings: Mornings are like alarm clocks. They scrupulously remind us how lucky we are to see another day, to breathe air (mostly polluted) and ...

Mundane Mornings

Mornings are like alarm clocks. They scrupulously remind us how lucky we are to see another day, to breathe air (mostly polluted) and of all the duties that we willingly left at the footstep of our respective beds just before tucking ourselves into soundless sleep and, sometimes, not so sound… It’s 3:00 am, the devil in me is still wide awake!!

As glorified as it may sound, but mornings are a mark of new dawns, old beginnings and happy endings (pun intended). Each one of us, divided by different time zones, have some element of story to tell about mornings. For some, mornings are about sweating in the heat to get a perfectly shaped belly, and for few, it is about accepting the harsh reality of sunrises, i.e, it is indeed time to get up from bed!!

Mornings are like ‘post its’. It manages to shriek onto our faces that it is same as yesterday, new as today and as unexpected as tomorrow. Mornings are about sipping ghorum cha (hot tea) in a matka (earthenware) on a chilly winter morning in one’s familiar alley wrapped with golpos (stories) of the locality. Mornings are about reading khobor (news) and complaining, “arr kichu hobe na ei desher”. (I don't see any changes happening in our country)

For few, mornings are about catching up on sleep from last night’s drunken sessions which often tend to overflow the next morning which I am hopeless at. Late nights, wasn’t something that I would fancy anyway…Drunken night sessions were not even considered as a legitimate conversation by my standards.. Many a times, I have been tested by my very tolerant friends that no matter how interested a hot man is in me or how grave a discussion can be, I, would any day prefer to be hypnotized by the idea that the only solace I can find right now is in my mattress with a pillow to lay my dreams on…

Mornings tells us that it’s okay to give someone another chance just the way night ends to give morning another chance.. Mornings are about hoping that today should be as mundane as it was yesterday. Of course, exciting is fun! Excitement brings joy, a moment of adrenaline rush. But mundane is comfort, a long terminal illness that engulfs our lives with bouts of security, affection and happiness.