A Woman’s Smile

Whenever I see a woman smile, I thank the reason behind it. The world is definitely male-dominated. Opportunities seldom come a woman’s way. She has to squeeze through the crowd and grab it. I recently joined a permanent job after a four year break. Trust me, I know what I am talking about. And when it is India you are born in, there is even lesser reason to smile.

For a long time I used to think that when my generation becomes adult, there will be no more female foeticides and infanticides, grooms will start refusing dowry and being a house husband won’t rob a man of his dignity. Then I became an adult and I met mothers my age who started collecting gold for their daughter’s wedding almost as soon as she was born. A friend of mine looks forward to fifty tolas of gold and the Ford Escourt that his would-be wife is going to bring him. The number of cases in female foeticide and infanticide are still rising. And every woman I know has to go home and cook after work.

A girl child starts fighting her battle as soon as she is allowed to be born. Most parents don’t celebrate a girl’s birth in India. Having thus entered the world unwanted, she grows up being denied opportunities. “You can’t play football, you are a girl.” “Don’t wear jeans.” “Eat like a girl.” I had a friend in sixth standard who was visibly thinner than us. She was the youngest among four sisters and one brother. Her brother’s food was cooked separately, with more ghee, fresher ingredients and definitely more love. No wonder by the time my friend was in college she became adept in using the wiles and charms of her sex to get things done her way. People called her a bitch for using PMS to get leaves approved and flirting with her boss for promotions, but these were the only ways she knew to get ahead in life.

Women from all walks of life are struggling; whether it’s the millionaire’s wife striving to create her own identity, or the down trodden illiterate one who is somehow managing five kids, a drunk and abusive husband and a manual job way beyond her capability. Thus, whatever the reason behind a woman’s smile; whether it’s her new shoes, a compliment from her beau, or her child’s first word, I thank every inch of it.

She can smile through fire

And burn through ice

To hold her head high

She can wield her might

From the Magic Box!

CP

Lassiwala

Qutab Minar

Humayun's Tomb

Lodhi Tomb

Capital Fury!

Among other changes in Delhi, I can see a new trend in the rage levels of the city. Consider the following cases:


1. A man after refusing to pay seventeen bucks for toll, shot the toll worker even after the boy let him go without paying.

2. A man, after refusing to pay for a glass of juice, went home, returned with a kitchen knife and stabbed the juice vendor to death.

3. When an auto wala grazed a car, the driver and his companions bashed the auto wala’s head with a brick till he was dead.

4. A father and son beat a guy to death with hockey sticks and cricket bats for asking to park his auto near their house.

There was a time when I used to relish a quarrel in Delhi. Hindi is not my mother tongue, and it was fascinating to see the innovative use of the language when tempers were flared. Among a few dialogues, that I can quote safely here are:

“Tere baap ki shadi hai kya wahan, jo ball laane me itni der kar raha hai?”

“Ye kooda tumhara daddy aa ke saaf karega?”

An entire crowd would gather and a few people would butt in, in a bid to pacify the parties. Soon, the quarrel would break up and an entire week would be dedicated to the incident in excited whispers. And for years to come, these quarrels would bring a smile or arouse laughter.

Now, people move away from a quarrel with dread written all over their faces. You never know who might snap and just kill you in sheer rage. Nosey neighbours will not pry in to pacify. The parties might turn on the friendly pacifier. What bewildering phenomenon is happening here? A rage so blinding, a passion so consuming that all past and future seems to obliterate from the person’s mind. He seems only aware of an urgency to be rid of the disturbing element. And the rage lasts for long periods of time too. Any concern for consequences seems to be absent too.

Well, whatever the phenomenon, whatever the psychology behind it, what I have learnt this time in Delhi is that we have to learn to keep quiet. Another car grazes your car, don’t react. A person barges into a line, don’t speak up. A person steps on your feet, smile. It can get more ridiculous if I continue. I know its against the spirit of Delhi, but its definitely my new mantra in this newer New Delhi.

From DTC to Metro

Delhi once gave me shapely arms. At least twice a day, I was assured of an intensive session of physical exercise, equivalent to any modern gym equipped with sophisticated technology. I, as well as my fellow female colleagues, could boast of a 26 inch waist. And that too without a diet, in fact we used to hog like wolves all day. All courtesy, DTC buses. A ride in a DTC bus of those days was quite an educational tour. On a busy route, a DTC bus was a colossal cuboid of humans rolling across the streets. Those lucky enough to have a foot-hold clung to their good fortune. People from all walks of life were forced to forget their differences as they shared space aboard these indifferent machines. Labourer, teacher, housewife, student – all were equal. Summers were even more humbling.


This time the capital welcomed me with the Metro. The Metro is like the latest hottie in college. Everybody is talking about it. Everybody wants to be seen in it. Not one day goes by without me hearing an incident that happened on the Metro. I myself travelled it for most of my interviews. You can do a complete behaviour analysis of the current Delhiite while sitting on those seats.

First of all Metro stations are so secure that you can stand proud while you wait for it. Unlike when you wait for a DTC, you don’t have to rivet your eyes around for suspicious characters. And even if you do spot someone creepy, you know that help isn’t at all far. Moreover, you know the exact amount of time you have to wait, which will be max eight minutes. Unlike DTCs you aren’t going to be spending an easy half hour stagnating under the sun.

All the technology does usher in some snobbery. Swanky swinging automatic doors, tokens and smart cards, stations built like international airports; that’s a lot to brag about. People are generally seen staring into the distance with an air of superiority, mostly with a pair of headphones glued to their ears. They seem unruffled by the multitude of people milling around. For even in the new fangled Metro, there is rush. Sometimes, I wonder how the doors are able to close. I guess you can’t win everywhere.

Women Interrupted!

My first morning in Delhi, I opened the newspaper gratefully. Grateful because its been a year since I read an Indian English daily. And what I read shivered me timbers. A 29 year old married woman was dragged out of her taxi and gang raped the whole night. The woman was a bar tender in a Gurgaon pub. I have known a conservative Delhi, but the new generation has taken over. Aunties no longer flap their tongues when a girl and a boy chat in their ‘mohalla.’ Girls are no longer confined to salvar kameezes and loose T-shirts. Its nice and relieving to see that. But if this city was ever unsafe for women, now its even worse. And there is no relief in sight.If you look at the rape pattern in the city, you can conclude that we don’t have any serial rapists. These are apparently normal people, who belong to normal families. The only thing that sticks out is that they seem to have no fear – of the law, or it’s enforcers. Not that these people belong to a powerful mafia group or the underworld. So where does this absence of fear come from? Is it money? If you have an answer, please let me know. Maybe I’ll feel better.

Delhi is a vast city and full of opportunities. There are hundreds of smart and exciting jobs and careers for women, but can a woman dare take such a job, or choose such a career? Those who have taken these jobs and chosen to be wild and versatile, are they courageous given the level of dangers, or just lucky so far? The sad fact is, women of Delhi, who are smart, opinionated, bold, cannot safely work in urban places like a bar or a pub, a disc. So should they just tame themselves and do jobs that are safe like teaching, accounts and day shifts? How do you fulfill your dreams in such a place? And I wonder: was it wise for me to come back here to restart my career?

Back in Teekhi Delhi!

My sincerest apologies for the sudden absence. Being a human being, sometimes the world around me demands and I simply have to supply. Without any more fanfare, let me tell you that I am now in Delhi. Delhiites and people who have been to Delhi would know that this is not a city one takes lightly. Millions of people have tried their luck here for hundreds of years. It’s the perfect place for a reality check. The crowd here is rough, rude and ever increasing. Itcan trample on your dreams quite painfully.But, after a month of being shoved and pulled around, you realize that it doesn’t matter anymore. And suddenly, you are one of the mob, standing and watching a nervous newbie complain about the crowd. And you don’t have the time to console this person.

And soon, you get a new feeling. Like nothing can stop you from reaching what you want. Whether, its the soaring temperatures in summer or the biting chills of Delhi winter, you find that you are still delivering, still functioning, still very much enjoying too.

I almost grew up in Delhi. Did my college from DU. I am back after six years. Some of the gigantic changes that I am witnessing shock me, others surprise me pleasantly, and still others leave me nostalgic. How did I live without bhalla papdi, bhel puri, gol gappa, I wonder? How did I shop when it wasn’t Sarojini Nagar, Karol Bagh or Janpath, I ponder? But I am back, and am enjoying every taste, khatti, meethi and lots of teekhi!

Kismat ko aazmaane

Tere dar pe aaye hai hum

Gar Dilli dilwalon ki hai

To sapne dekhenge hum

Inhe na tod deejiye

Tere nakhre uthaenge hum

Loving and Fooding!

I know that to make a dinner romantic, all you need is two pairs of clasped hands and two pairs of eyes mirrored in each other. The food could be caviar and champagne or two cans of coke and bread pakode. However, when you plan to take out a loved one for dinner, you want a quiet place, that fills your mood with romance. So, I looked at the most romantic restaurants that I have been to in the three cities that I have spent my life in, after the arrival of romance. Let me add that none of the restaurants I am talking about here are expensive, very handy for college goers or those who have just started drawing their salares.

New Delhi: Pebble Street

A pebbled street in Santa Fe, Colombia

It seems a long time ago that I used to go here. My first time was when I was fresh on my second job. Ever since I have recommended it to many people, and have had many dates with my beau then. Sometimes, visiting places here in Colombia remind me of this little place, because the floor is literally made of cut stones, resembling an actual pebble street. And many of the Spanish settlements of the olden days had the same for roads. So, the ambience gets a lot of marks for resembling like an old European colony. I remember dressing up in a long skirt and a peasant top once, to feel even more authentic. And don’t worry, the food is fantastic too. My favourite order used to be Mushy Buttons, a plateful of mushrooms filled with cheese along with a very spicy dip. Apart from continental, the menu also comprises of Indian and South-East Asian. I remember my Dad ordered Indonesian food there! You can check out the menu here. And now the best part: they serve liquor. Find out the time for happy hours!

Bangalore: Bewhaha

Whoever came up with this concept is an absolute genius. Yes, it is not just a café but also a concept. You don’t just get food for your tummy here, but for your brains too! You can choose to rent from sixty-five different board games, which you can enjoy while you munch on sandwiches, pakode, samosa or sip on the likes of Calvin Brew Milkshake (absolutely naughty and yummy!) or the Pan Galactic Gurgle Blaster. The service is tailor made for you to feel cool and cared for. There is even a person who helps you select a game and I have heard they also arrange for hobby workshops and hip-hop classes. The area is very near to Jyoti Nivas College and several offices, so that the crowd is always nice. Along with tables and chairs, they also have floor sitting, where you would often catch a big college crowd chilling out with a board game. Don’t fret, there are games for two people too. Just check this place out with your chosen one. And if you are alone, there are a range of books too!

Medellin: Bon Vent

Parque Lleras

At first glance, this is just an Italian fast food place. I have ordered pizzas from here, especially for my vegan friends, and they have loved it. Its difficult to find vegan food in this city. So, the reason I visited the place last night was for the thin but soft pizza crust. And I was pleasantly surprised. Its a small place tucked away in one of the corners of Parque Lleras. There are only five tables, only one person to wait on all and probably only one cook inside, but the food is lovely and inexpensive! We ordered a simple pepperoni pizza and a portion of wings in barbecue sauce and savored every bite. Their pizzas are square in shape; I found that easier to pick up. The romantic part is that the seating opens out into the pavement, which appeared to be less busy than other lanes of Parque Lleras. So, on a cool summer night, there is you and your bright eyes and good food. What else do you want? Oh, yes! Every place here serves liquor. There was a whole rack of wine bottles!

If you are in any of these cities and happen to take my advice about any of the above restaurants, lemme know if you liked them.

Frenchman's Creek by Daphne du Maurier

What could be more romantic than falling in love with a pirate who is as charming as any gentleman? In a sentence, that is the story of ‘Frenchman’s Creek,’ a novel by Daphne du Maurier, the author of ‘Rebecca.’ I have read romances in my time, but none can appeal to me more than this one right now. The heroine Dona is a married woman with two children. She is the rich wife, whose husband is slower than her, unmindful of the mild flirtation his friend Rockingham carries on with Dona. Bored of her life in London, Dona takes her two children and comes to Navaron, her husband’s property on the Cornish coast. And while trying to have some peace, she stumbles upon an adventure. She discovers that a French pirate, who has been terrorizing the neighbourhood has been hiding right on her property. When Dona tries to investigate further, she gets captured, only to discover that the pirate is a very educated, cultured person, who, just like her has taken to piracy only because of boredom. Dona joins his crew and has the time of her life. But her fun is short lived, as she realizes her responsibilities and refuses to sail away with her love. 

The story is an escape to a fantasy, which is ridiculously unlikely to happen. Daphne du Maurier herself wrote it at a time when she was overwhelmed by the worldly responsibilities of life. But its her. Her genius is felt in the suspense and the words chosen to create the romance. The impact I felt was a languid drowsiness that I let caress me like the winds on the Cornish coast. Dona is a woman who is present in each one of us women. She is the one who rebels against norms that patriarchal societies have bound her with and yearns for the same freedom that men save for themselves. 

Unfortunately, I am really happily married and the pirate I love is sitting in this room even as I type. So, I never get to do anything illegally exciting. But we’ve had our share of adventures. We still do, when the ordinariness of life springs unexpected surprises at us now and then.

Ingredients for a Yummy V day!

Cupid’s month is here. I am guessing a lot of pink and red in the shops to get you into a Valentine mood. Teddy bears, love coffee mugs, greeting cards; all that jazz. But what is it that could actually turn any given day into a real blast of romance? In my opinion, it is just the situation. He or she is there, you are there, but where are you? Is it a wedding, where she is fully decked up and blooming? Or is it a football match where he is sweaty and determined, all muscles ripping? Or maybe she is at her window, her hair undone, eyes scrunched up, staring at the dawn? Or the library, where his strong jaw is clenched in concentration over a physics sum? Sigh! I was once in a situation where my date and I were drenched in rain. I have written about it before, if you remember. However, every day there isn’t a ‘situation.’ Maybe that’s why mankind and nature, together have several ingredients to make things happen. Not just anything, romantic things!

Consider flowers. I would say red roses, even though it is a cliché. Nothing is more romantic than the smoldering, velvety petals of a red rose. Needless to say, it’s scent is an aphrodisiac that has powers that nature has generously given for our benefit. Why not make the best use of them?

Coffee can excite the mind. The caffeine in it can elevate you out of your laziness and spur you into action. Find out how it is an aphrodisiac here. Share a cup with him or her on V day. Then come back and tell me what happened. (Wink!) 

Chocolate. Dark, dark, dark! The darker the chocolate, the more it makes a woman loosen her hair. So the scientists say. As a woman and a die-hard chocoholic, I can tell you those scientists are absolutely right. 

Music can perform miracles too. It could be the lyrics of “Pal pal dil ke paas,” or the steam in “Bheege honth.” Or how about Bryan Adams crooning “Have you ever really loved a woman,” or Chris Issak’s “Wicked Games.”

Candles can drive away more than just darkness. Switch off the lights and burn one this Valentine’s day and find out how. There are so many in the market. Choose one in your favourite colour and scent. Maybe tranquil lavender or yummy vanilla! 

Try the above five and let me know if it worked. Happy Valentine’s Day.

Please do things to my heart

Make my beat stop and start

Just ask to be mine

Please be my Valentine

From the Magic Box!

Here are some shots that I took thinking they depicted new beginnings in some way.

Beginning a new life

Begin a new day with a hearty breakfast

Promise of a new future

An end often means a new beginning

The new of the unborn!

New flavours

Beginning of a new season

New shoes - a month long smile!

New foundations

New colours

The Mayor of Casterbridge: The Power of New

I have chosen an old book to review in this first month of New Year. The reason is that this book is full of new beginnings and resolutions. If you know Thomas Hardy, he will make you fall in love with his central character and it’s imperfections. He will make you weep throughout the book and the ending is a tragedy too. So no respite. We had this book in college and I wrote some of my best nine pagers for it. Not that all of them were good enough for the examiners. However, I am not going to parade one of those answers here. I will just highlight how many new beginnings ensue here. I am emboldening the word ‘new’ wherever such an event occurs.

The story starts in 1885, England, when Michael Henchard, a hay trusser with an alcohol problem, sells his wife, Susan and his child for five pounds to a sailor named Newson in a drunken stupor. The next morning, he wakes up distraught with guilt. After failing to find them, he enters a church and makes a resolution. Just like we make every year. He resolves not to drink alcohol for twenty-one years, the number akin to his age. After abandoning the search for his family, he starts a new life in the town of Casterbridge. Unknown to the reader, so do his wife and children with Newson, the sailor.

Eighteen years later, Susan and the now grown Elizabeth Jane arrive at Casterbridge looking for Henchard, only to find that he is now the not so popular Mayor. Elizabeth is unaware that Henchard is her father and only knows that they are looking for an old relative. Henchard and Susan decide that in order to keep Elizabeth in the dark regarding the disgraceful way that they parted years ago, Henchard will court Susan and then marry her. Thus, a new life begins for the three of them once more.

Also, on the night that Henchard’s family arrives in Casterbridge, Donald Farfrae, a young man on the way to search for opportunity in America provides some cutting-edge advice to Henchard. Impressed, Henchard offers him a position in his business. Farfrae takes it and thus starts his new life in Casterbridge.

Soon Elizabeth is making bright eyes at Farfrae and there is this incredibly romantic scene where Farfrae has to blow off chaff from the back and sides of her neck. And just as you think life is smooth, Farfrae, who is younger, sharper and more practical than Henchard keeps outwitting him in every respect, until Henchard fires him and forbids him to see Elizabeth.

Susan dies revealing to Henchard that Elizabeth is not his but the Newson’s daughter. And Henchard learns of this right after he spills the beans about himself and Susan to Elizabeth. The poor girl is absolutely confused when her father starts ill-treating her, until she can’t take it anymore and goes to live with a lady who has arrived newly in town. And who do you think this new person is? Why! Its Henchard’s girlfriend whom he had to abandon on Susan’s arrival. But now the path is clear, and she is set to marry Henchard.

However, waiting for him, she meets Farfrae instead. And like his business, Farfrae proves a superior competitor in love too. Soon, Henchard is disgraced when his wife-selling past is revealed and suffering losses in business, he goes bankrupt. Farfrae buys his business, his old house and starts living there with Lucetta. Henchard now works as a hay-trusser under Farfrae. His twenty-one years are over too, so he starts drinking again. He is the same man, in the same town starting a new life once more. And the cherry on the top of this fate-filled cake is that Farfrae becomes the Mayor. Elizabeth now goes to live with Henchard in a small cottage, and their bond grows.

Meanwhile, Henchard agrees to return Lucetta’s letters, but on the way the secret gets out, and both become subject to a ‘skimmity-ride,’ which proves too much for Lucetta’s nerves and she dies. Now comes Nelson, to claim his daughter. Selfish in his love for Elizabeth, Henchard tells him that she has died. But he comes back when he learns of this deception, and Henchard leaves town before she confronts him. He goes to meet her on her wedding day, but she snubs him. Later, Elizabeth regrets her behavior towards him and she and her new husband search for him. They are too late and only find his will where his final wish is to be forgotten.

Studying this book for a year, I fell in love with Henchard. And no matter how perfect Farfrae is, not making a single mistake, my heart never warmed for him. That’s Hardy’s unparalleled genius! And my absurdity I suppose. The number of times that he started his life anew in grueling circumstances is worth analyzing.

Old Ingredients, New magic!

The first fight that I had this New Year was about the Christmas turkey. With my husband of course. After singing it’s praises and thus mine on Christmas, he got bored of it. He also complained that it had a strange after taste that bothered him. With my prime eater down, I didn’t know what to do with all the leftover turkey. So, I thought, why not take the leftovers from last year and create a new dish! Here’s what I used:

Leftover turkey (diced)

Leftover turkey stuffing (mushroom and onion chopped finely and fried in olive oil, salt and pepper)

Mayonnaise (leftover from a take away)

Humus (leftover from a Arabic take away)

Chilli sauce (To add zing. I went crazy with it. You might want to be more discreet)

Oregano (leftover from a pizza take away)

Balsamic Vinegar 2tbsp (to get rid of the “after taste”)

Olive oil

Salt and pepper (But remember the turkey already has some)

First I fried the turkey in olive oil till it was almost crispy. Then I added the vinegar and let it evaporate. The rest of the ingredients I just mixed in. And then I served it as salad with some avocado, I made a grilled sandwich with it, and I tried it with parantha too. My husband did the dishes for a week, smiling!