Windmills of My Mind
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Sometimes up, sometimes down
Sometimes bright, sometimes brown
Sometimes dubious, sometimes trusting
Sometimes active, sometimes resting
Laughably stupid, or brilliantly keen
Deeply perceptive, or ruthlessly mean
Shifting sands of impersistent thoughts
Windfall of feelings tied up in knots
A waffling chameleon, a steady machine
A virulent tornado, a meandering stream
A beautiful maiden, a gross dream
A sensitive bitch, a stoic queen
No discussion on India would be complete without mentioning its food which is as rich and colorful as its residents. And I am not kidding when I say that travelling from one region to another will not only introduce you to different languages and dialects but also to markedly varied cuisines.
And of course, spices are essential in our cuisine. The spice trade which began during the ancient civilizations was considered to be the trigger for the ‘Age of Discovery’ during which Europe began exploring for new routes to the East Indies.
I still have very fond memories of my Grandma’s kitchen where food used to be prepared the way it should be—from scratch. It was labor intensive but also a lot of fun. I know because I used to help. Water was drawn from the well in the yard, spices were ground in ancient stone grinders, so was flour for bread, batter for idlis (steamed rice cakes), dosas (crepes made from rice and lentil batter) and chutneys (fine and coarse sauces made from fruits, or vegetables and spices.) And when the food was being cooked, the aroma would fill the entire neighborhood. My favorite was the one of rasam (a light and spicy south Indian lentil soup.) It still is.
Now I would like to share with you some of my personal favorites.
I begin with a special Indian Vegetarian Barbecue which I had the privilege of indulging in last time I was in India. I wish to thank my wonderful cousin and her husband for this experience. We were in Khandala (a hill station near Mumbai,) in a private resort bungalow with our very own personal chef and this is what we were served on our first night there. YUM!!
Thick pieces of Paneer (fresh Indian cheese) marinated in spices, tomatoes, onions, green bell peppers, cilantro and mint chutney.
Mounted on skewers and slow cooked over charcoal.
Finished product served with vegetable biryani (basmati rice cooked with veggies and spices)!
Ad seen in passing at a local gas station.
Dilli or Delhi Haat : An open air food plaza and craft bazaar located in New Delhi, India.
New Delhi is India’s capital city.
—o—
Dilwalon ki Dilli
‘It’s a jungle out there and Delhi is one of the scariest!’
Or so they say… but to us Dilliwaalah’s (Delhiites), it is one of the most wonderful cities in the world. We embrace fondly both its beauty and its craziness. And we endlessly reminisce and sing its glory.
We wait patiently in the perennial traffic jams honking our horns every 10 seconds to make certain that someone hasn’t fallen asleep at the wheel. We squeeze through narrow streets and jostle with 100s of other shoppers in Chandni Chowk (moonlit market) to get to our favorite halwai (sweet seller) or Chaat (savory) shop. We haggle incessantly in the sabzi mandi (vegetable market) over a few rupees and demand free dhaniya (cilantro) and mirchi (hot peppers). Precariously perched, we ride the cycle rickshaws for cheap and then wonder how the poor hauler makes ends meet. We chomp on our golgappas (puffed crisp pooris with tamarind sauce) with devout passion and chat fervently over our aloo (potato) chaats (freshly prepared savories).
We shamelessly flaunt our rich in their comfortable bungalows in the upscale neighborhoods of the south as well as our poor in their slums in the east. We consider ourselves progressive and argue for intellectual freedom yet revert blindly to inane traditions when it comes to the crunch.
But despite all our failings, when it comes to heart, no one has one like us.
Digressing a little from the main topic, I’d like to share some pictures I took on a recent trip to Rome.
The colorful petunias relieve the stark grey backdrop of the Piazza Novona in Rome.
Now it’s the turn of the red orange geraniums bordering the Spanish Steps. Must say that these folks know their color palette.
Bear Lake, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado USA.
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4 am Musings
Loneliness is when you long for company..
Solitude… Hey I’m Cool! ^5
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Self Discovery is a journey I embark on whenever a ‘friend’ leaves me.
Guess I’m done discovering myself! Damn it! >:/
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I wonder for the nth time: Who am I?
I wonder for the nth time: Who am I?
Hey someone fix that broken record!! <:-|
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I think I should thank all those who help feed my ego. I don’t have to track my ‘VIEWS’ anymore! 🙂
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It’s another *****new DAY!!! :@
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India is one of the most religiously diverse countries in the world.
It is the birthplace of Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism and Sikhism which are known as the Dharmic religions. Hinduism and Buddhism are the 3rd and 4th largest religions in the world with over 2 billion followers.
All these religions share some common rituals, traits and beliefs such as the concepts of karma (action or deed), dharma (duty), samsara (continuous flow of the cycle of birth, life, death and reincarnation), moksha (release of the soul from the cycle of samsara and end of all suffering) and yoga, though the interpretations may vary.
They also share the concept of cremation of the dead known as antim samskara or ‘last rites’; wearing of vermilion on the forehead by married women, as well as several marriage rituals.
Buddhism was originally founded by Siddhartha Gautama (Gautama Buddha) a Kshatriya prince turned ascetic somewhere between the 6th and 4th century BCE. Buddha meaning ‘the enlightened one’ taught ‘the Middle Way’ as the path that when followed leads to liberation.
—o—
Karla Caves
Ancient Buddhist rock cut cave shrines located in Karli near Lonavala, in the state of Maharashtra, India about 150km from Mumbai. The oldest cave dates back to around 160 BC.
Caves cut deep into the rock.
Intricately hewn wall sculptures and scriptures
The Main Cave: Chaitya or Prayer Hall is the largest among all the Buddhist caves in India.
The Ashoka Pillar
Gautama Buddha
An unexpected treat! A group of tribal dancers caught in action outside the caves.
—o—
“You aren’t ready yet? Ahaan and his mother should be here in no time.” Kiran said, her voice brimming with anxiety, upon entering her daughter’s room and finding her there, standing at the window looking out, still in her blue jeans and T, while the grey and pink silk sari that she was supposed to wear, lay neatly folded on the bed.
“I don’t want to exhibit myself, especially when I already know what my decision is going to be.” Mili retorted, her gaze rooted on the antics of a couple of squirrels on the branches of a Cyprus tree.
“And we shall respect it.” Her mother replied, quietly coming up to stand behind her. She continued, a stern note creeping into her soft voice, “Your father and I do not want to force you into anything against your will. Your happiness is our prime concern. Yet at the same time I expect you to behave like the well bred young lady you are; with dignity and poise. We are proud that you are our daughter and we want to continue to hold our heads high.”
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A sudden bout of rigors seized Mili as she made her way slowly with the tea service, to the large open patio, where the family liked to receive their honored guests. The brick path was still wet from a light drizzle earlier that day, but the skies had cleared, giving way to brilliant evening sunshine, which made everything in sight look fresh, clean and vibrant.
It took Mili all her will to prevent herself from tripping over the edge of her sari. Her mother’s reassuring presence behind her helped but did not do much to allay her agitation. A sudden hush fell as everybody’s attention shifted onto her, while she directed hers on the wicker table. After setting the tray down without mishap, she concentrated on pouring out the tea and was thankful when Kiran came to her rescue and handed out the cups.
“Your daughter is the epitome of grace and beauty and this tea is the best I’ve ever tasted.” A feminine voice rang out approvingly.
“Thank you. You are very kind Mrs. Sharma. Mili has prepared it herself and it is the product of our own estate!” Her father Jai, remarked with pride.
I didn’t make it Papaji. It was Ramu kaka! Perhaps he should be the one that Mrs. Sharma should take home. Mili thought, almost bursting out into a hysterical giggle, while her eyes traced the outlines of the bricks in the pavement. She couldn’t bring herself to look up and face Ahaan. She just couldn’t.
The conversation floated unheard around and above her head. He was there, his curious eyes upon her, wearing a pair of shiny brown leather shoes and crisp khaki trousers, sitting beside his mother, who was dressed in an elegant cream colored suit. She felt her face burn as she recalled their many not so friendly interactions. Indeed, their parting had been on less than amicable terms. She hadn’t even wished him good bye. Then why did he agree to see me? Is this some kind of a sham? I’m sure it is…she thought, working herself up into a frenzy, twisting the tassels of her sari around her fingers.
So lost was she, that when her mother tapped her on the shoulder, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Beta? Why are you so quiet?”
“Youngsters prefer not to talk in front of us.” Mrs. Sharma suggested.
Kiran smiled in agreement. Then looked pointedly at her daughter. “Perhaps you can show Ahaan around our garden which has found a new life under your tender care?”
Mili frowned irritably…her parents appeared to be reeling off lies at a rapid pace today…but she didn’t rush to correct her mother. Instead, she jumped to her feet and marched rapidly away, crushing the sweet smelling grass underfoot, not waiting to see if Ahaan was following behind.
Apparently he did. For moments after she settled down on a low stone boundary wall, the only dry spot she could find; she found him there right beside her.
A street side stall where a vendor sells Soan papdi or Soanpapri which is a popular South Asian sweet with a crisp and flaky texture.
—o—
“Kaise diye bhai sahib?” What is the asking price, brother?
“Bees rupiah kilo behenji.” 20 rupees/kilo sister.
A conversation very similar to the above, modified to fit the situation and scripted in various regional languages, can be overheard if one happens to wander inside any store, or pass by a street shop on any given day in India.
I am not talking about the skyrocketing prices of fresh fruit and vegetables (that’s another topic altogether,) but of the way two strangers address each other.
The housewife who is trying to find the best deal she can as she goes around the market, addresses the vendor as ‘Bhai sahib’ [Bhaee-saab]. Hindi: भाई साहिब Bhai – Brother, Sahib- term of respect.
She uses this term even though he bears no relationship to her.
Similarly the tradesman or vendor responds with the term ‘Behen ji’ [Bahen-jee] Hindi: बहन जी Behen – Sister, Ji – gender neutral term of respect.
Indians use these terms often during the course of a typical day while doing business with strangers; such as while buying groceries, haggling over the price of fruits and vegetables, dealing with the milkman, or hailing a taxi or an auto rickshaw.
It is a means of establishing a temporary bond or kinship which places the conversation on a congenial and non-confrontational platform.
So on your next trip to India, these two terms should come in very handy.
~
Chap 1B: A Proposal
—o—
“At last…I feel human again!” Mili said, pausing to take a sip of the steaming brew that she held in her hands.“Ramu kaka…nobody can make better chai than you!” She called out, looking back over her shoulder, while stepping out of the kitchen. Ramu was their servant who had been with them ever since her father had been a little boy. He was practically a part of the family and everybody fondly called him kaka or uncle.
“But no one can ever top you mom, no one!” She said with a wink directed at Kiran.
Then gazing out of the window at the blooming passion flower vine which hugged the entire left side of the house, she exclaimed joyously,“It is so wonderful to be back home!”
Kiran smiled, secretly observing her daughter, as she settled down at the table and began working on some pea pods. Yes, her husband was right. Their little girl had indeed blossomed. The sloppy, rambunctious tomboy, who used to bring the entire house on its knees with her exploits had disappeared giving way to the beautiful and elegant young woman who sat in front of her. The transformation had come about so quickly that it appeared almost miraculous! Yet, she was still her Mili, her precious little child, whom she wanted to cherish and keep in close proximity all her life. But Kiran knew that would be asking for too much.
“So… Did you have a good time with your friends yesterday?” She asked, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear.
Mili nodded, “Yes, it was like old times. First we went to the bazaar, then to the movies and then back to Annie’s place where we chattered each other’s ears off!” She laughed. “Yet there was something odd about it all…” She paused in her task, her large jet black eyes taking on a wistful look. “Some, like Sonia and Jess, were only there physically while their minds were engaged elsewhere. Probably worried sick about their husbands and their babies.”
“Thank Heavens! That is something I don’t have to be concerned about for a long long time,” she concluded brightly.
You may be surprised my dear…Kiran thought. I should not procrastinate anymore.“I have some news..” She said.
Mili perked up, “What news? Has our neighbor run away with her driver? I sensed something shady there.”
“No!” Kiran said laughing, “Our neighbor is quite happy with her husband as far as I can tell. You have to stop letting your imagination run wild. It is something else. Do you remember Dr. and Mrs Sharma?”
Mili frowned, shaking her head.
“Perhaps you don’t. You were very young when they left. But you should recall their son, Ahaan. He was three years your senior in school.”
“You mean Mr. Times of India? Of course I remember him!” Mili said, bursting into a peal of laughter.
“Times of India…?”
“Yes. Because he was the biggest political junkie! While the rest of us were talking about the latest movie, he was waxing eloquent on the state of world affairs. While we were smuggling Sidney Sheldon in our satchels, he was walking around with a book on Churchill or Lenin in plain sight! I used to tease him so much about it…”
“Why, because he was different?”
“I guess you could say that…” Mili’s brow drew together in a frown. “ And all he did was stare at me with those serious bespectacled brown eyes and walk away. I sometimes wished he would shout back. His silence was getting on my nerves. Then one day he did. He lectured me on respecting my peers —how dare he?!” Her face grew red with indignation. “Another time, he caught me playing truant with a couple of my classmates and told me off, saying that it would affect my grades! Big deal!…… Oops!” She bit her tongue and managed to look appropriately chagrined.
Kiran smiled. The cat was out of the bag. “That was very sweet of him. He was just looking out for you.”
Mili was glad that her mother didn’t berate her on her bad behavior, “Perhaps he was. But the manner in which he said it all, I wanted to punch him in his smug face..I nearly did!”
“Thank heavens you controlled yourself Mili!” Kiran managed to look shocked, though she was enjoying this recount of her daughter’s school days, which she hadn’t been privy to. “I had a different opinion of him, though..”
“Why?”
“Remember the day when it was raining heavily and all the power lines were down? The phones weren’t working either. You had stayed back for a school play rehearsal and I was worried sick. Your papaji (father) was out of town also. I was about to leave the house with kaka to look for you, when I heard a knock on the door and found you standing there with Ahaan. He was holding his coat over your head while getting soaked to the skin himself. And then he left right from the door, even when I asked him to come in. A very gentlemanly thing to do.”