To my aaji

Kadhi is one of my favorite staple Indian foods. I remember chilly winter evenings in Chicago when I would only make kadhi and drink 4-5 cups of it. It gave me comfort. I learnt how to make kadhi from my aaji (mother's mother). I would always tell aai, how aaji makes the best kadhi in the world and aai could take tips from her. The honesty of childhood!

Aaji passed away about a month ago. It was not sudden, but it was expected. She was not keeping well for past two years. During every visit I, over the past 6 months, I could see the life waning out of her. But no one wants to prepare for such inevitable. No one wants to lose a part of their childhood.

I spent many summer holidays spending time at my grandmother's. With nothing much to do apart from reading books, I would often poke around in the kitchen. Trying to help her at times or learn things. She would be impressed by this curiosity and teach me things. But only if I behaved. The lady always needed her space. Specially when she was frying something in the kitchen. She considered it a bad omen to have anyone standing in the kitchen behind her, when she was frying things. She would always shoo us away. I used to compulsively annoy her with my presence. 

Over the years the house she lived in with my uncles and aunts changed. It was made bigger, with multiple stories added. People changed, they started living and cooking separately. Lives started being better but different. 

I am not sure how aaji, even for that matter aajoba (grandfather) took these changes. We always saw them being happy and contented. Their lives had always been shared. With big extended families. The idea of privacy and separate rooms must have been strange to them. But they accepted it gladly. That's what I feel. 

Because, whenever I visited aaji would still cook things for me. Over one such summer after my 10th standard examination, I told her I wanted to learn how to make chapatis. Aaji with all her heart taught me the magic was in the dough. Always. The better you knead it the better your chapatis would turn out to be. She would say, dont put pressure at the center while rolling the chapatis. Try to put it uniformly. And then the crucial part, how to roast them. She told me to cook one side longer than the other and roast the other side directly over flame. 

My aaji was the most curious person from her generation who I knew. She would read entire newspaper. Solve the puzzles and crosswords. Keep them ready for me when I asked for some entertainment. Tell us random bedtime stories. Let us pull her leg when we teased her how handsome her husband was. Listen to my translated version of harry potter.

These are my vivid memories of my aaji. Taking pride in my sillier achievements of roasting a chapati perfectly. Or hearing from aai about my kadhi adventures away from home. I am sure every grandparent must do the same.

Now we have a maid who makes chapatis at home. So I make chapatis rarely. I was telling a friend how aaji taught me the art and smiling. I am sure aaji must be proud. Still.

brand list

Read Upasna's post about the collective shopping experience. And since my blog is suffering (read no posts :() and the post made me nostalgic, I decided why not! Plus being year end and all this is going to be a month of lists, of things done, not done, to be done. Might as well start with some nostalgia!


So, here is the list of our *family* brands. As much as I can remember.

• Bapat kirana stores - Aai still prefers to buy their chakka (from which shrikhand, a typical maharashtrian dessert is prepared)
• Milton dresses - I cannot remember an year without a visit to them. After moving away from home and getting exposed to other brands, the trend has now subdued. But parents still visit, especially when they have to buy gifts.
• Bata shoes - OMG! We are truly a bata family (at list for the slippers :D). Still visited by parents. Comfy stuff according to me.
• Raaj - raajeshwari - for all miscellaneous shopping.
• Choudhari cutpiece center - Year after year all the bed sheets, cushion covers, sofa covers at home bear their seal!
• Hair and care - Dad still uses it!!!!!
• Moti/hamam/mysore sandal soaps - We are so-oh low profile with soaps :D
• Britania marie - These are our favorite tea time biscuits! to this day!
• Society tea - judge us :P
• Dhara oil - oh yes! jalebi!
• Videocon - our first tape recorder, in which countless tapes got recorded with yours truly reciting poems. sheesh. but true. :-|
• Whirlpool - I was so fond of that whirlpool-whirlpool ad that I made parents buy this fridge, when my opinion was asked for :P
• Haldiram - This is our default go-to shop for any impromptu sweets/snacks shopping, when in rush.

I want to add many more. But this is it for now.

shall update.

Do you remember your collective shopping experiences as a family ?

Will be fun to read!

~nightflier

Growing up with Andre and Steffi

So last week I had two options for books - In the plex (A book about google) and Open (an autobiography).
But I wanted to read some fiction, Secret of the Nagas, which had not yet released. Lately I have been having an overdose of non fiction, so thought would wait for it. But then that meant boring bus rides. So this came in handy and thought I might as well go the Agassi way :)


So after that brief pseudo bragging of how much and what all I have been reading/planning, I might as well write about the book :P


At home, I and baba (dad) are the only Tennis fans. I got it from him. That's the one thing we share *exclusively*. Our love for Steffi Graf, trying to find her perfect replacement, getting disappointed with every Martina, Venus, Maria (injury quotient wise), then Agassi-Sampras rivalry, hoping for something like that and more between Roger-Rafa, loving Federer's perfect shots and countless other stuff. He idolizes Steffi Graf. He can go gaga about her game, lack of injuries (until well after her peak years), grace, calm, composure. So one can wonder what role model I had while growing up. (He also has some older (era-wise) favorites, but since I havent grown up with them, I don't understand them much :D)


Agassi on the other hand was solely supported by me at home. Well his long locks, outrageous fashion made him stand out, did not it ? And growing up years need someone exactly like him to rebel up to! Baba always used to say Agassi never plays upto his potential. How will he ever make history. The book resonated with those words. Nevertheless Andre did create history. I personally did trust him less after his countless injuries, back outs, that *drug* thing, but his charm never faded. Until he and Sampras played, our home saw to it that I supported Andre and baba Pete. He even asked me once, if I like rooting for the underdogs. I did not know then. But baba was gracious enough to fairly let me take sides of whomever I liked/loved. Another contradiction in Agassi's story. He did not get to choose much for himself at least.


Another thing I loved the book for was for making me remember all the childhood tennis players. Courier, Corretja, Krajicek, Rafter, Chang, Becker Wilander.. Gosh! It seems like eons ago! I have literally youtube-d whatever videos I could find of matches described in the book and tried to re-live the times :) Nostalgia!!!

Spotted on a sunny morning at the LV store at the Taj (Mumbai)
circa 2007 November
(I was a little sad when none of my friends could
identify with my excitement after seeing it)
courtesy - google

Oh, and Andre also married Steffi Graf. I was so happy then that I told baba that now you should not doubt him, he has the best girl out there :) That's a perfect love story for me!! (but its pretty normal and mundane if you read the book) 


Anywho, great read if you watch/like tennis. Also inspirational when you see the struggle Agassi put himself through, with all the ups and downs of life. Pretty rewarding actually.


~nightflier


P.S. I still have not connected with anyone over Tennis (except for a friend or 2). Its still that special thing I share with baba. To think of it we don't have many common interests :)

Post palace of illusions

Post palace of illusions.

Mahabharata is something that finds its way to you. Of course if you are born an Indian, its easier. One can say Mahabharata stories were typical bed time stories as kids. One grew up on the fodder of virtuous Pandavs, evil kauravs, cunning shakuni, danveer karna, mayavi Krishna.

It was always Karna and Bheeshma  though who mesmerized me. Strangely I find Bheeshma  Dumbledore-ish. Also the other way round. I think liking for Bheeshma increased many folds because Mukesh Khanna portrayed him so well. And I was always a fan of BR Chopra's epic that the Sagar's over-dramatic version of Ramayan.

When I read Shivaji Sawant’s Mrutyunjaya some time at the age of 14-15, I was instantly connected to Kunti. Her character eluded me. With a powerful boon like hers, I would always think how tough it would have been. But the one thing the book did to my mind was give Karna an irreplaceable place in my heart. You can call it instant teenage fixation for a tragic hero (Andrew Manson, Macbeth, rick blaine, jai later on). May be this is how strangely destiny fulfills itself. (Karna was cursed to be not remembered for his valor but later got counter cursed wherein he would be revered for his greatness). When I would read the book again during engineering, I would just feel helpless at Karna’s unfair treatment. While reading difficulty of being good, which was thoroughly philosophical I experienced the same during the chapter on Karna.

Thus Mahabharata is something that has found its way to me. Through TV, books or otherwise.
So when I took Palace of Illusions for reading, the first thing I realized was how little I knew about Panchaali. Rather how little I cared to know, except she was this lucky female who got to marry 5 men. As a teenager that almost felt rebellious to me, with a ‘polygamous women must be really strong in a patriarchic society’ feeling. Of course I left it at that.
Also I don’t know if I can call myself a feminist although I believe in being myself and everyone’s right for being so. Man or woman. So the book in a way did open my eyes. To a perspective of a woman who came into the world somewhat unwanted, caused a great war, suffered a lot and in turn fulfilled her destiny. That also made me wonder, Panchaali in a way was lucky, she knew she was born to change history and she believed in it to her heart’s core. How many of us can believe in destiny so strongly ?
And her such starkly gray portrayal. Even as a narrator and protagonist, how many can manage to keep that objective view about oneself ? Of course I talk as if Panchaali told me the story herself. The book felt that way. And a really good book can make you feel that way.

At this point, I am terribly missing sharing this experience with KT. She is the strongest questioning feminist I know. And this book would have ensured a great philosophical talk/debate with her. :)

P.S. You might think why I used Panchali instead of Draupadi. The book will explain better. :) 

The Book Thief

Pre-script : I pick my books from random sources. It could be some unknown twitter feed, or friends of friends of friends reco, or simply this. Its the risk in trying out any genre that appeals to me. Friends normally recommend what they think I might like. But picking your sources from anywhere else, is a thrill ;)


I don't feel hungry anymore. Anything I read for the coming few days will seem pointless. Its ok to love a book so much, I think. [added after I finished the book. I have felt a plethora of emotions over the last 4 days and what I feel now is not for words to describe. Its mine to feel.]


After a long time (last time was when I read the Foundation series by Asimov) I sat with my notepad, and noted down obscure words (mostly german) and random quotes. :D
I cannot come to decide though, why I liked the book (I am still a 100 pages far from the finish line). But the thing about good books, or at least the books you fall in love with is, you love them in first few pages. The connect is not easier to define/find. May be its the world war II, Nazi germany setting or the child protagonist or death being the narrator or its stark wit despite the grimness or such beautiful use of the German language. Its all and something more actually. Voices of holocaust brought me closer to German (among yiddish, russian, spanish) as a language and Germany as a country [weird thought inside my head- I would like to be born in Germany in some next life. And I guess this purely arises from the conflicts]. The people it exposed me to though were very much real, their plight disturbed me. It was a depressing experience, if the takeaway of trying to learn a new language is spared. Now death being the narrator takes the book to a different level. It makes it so much more subtle. Of course, you might argue, that how can death be subtle, even as a narrator. Believe me, it is so witty that it is subtle. This must also give you the cue that you must read the book!
[I am strange with things I like, I rally for them till one gets bored :-/]


Note: the post might get unbearably long from here. The book reco has *conveniently* stopped now.


And as the book thief deals with books, lots of them, I feel obligated to write my own journey of books-reading. For posterity if nothing else.
It started with long, really hot summers at home with no outings planned and no outdoor stuff allowed during the day. Also owing to no cable and thus less tv. Must have been standard 3 or 4. The only place to rescue from such boring summers in childhood was the (kids') library near my house. Over the entire summer I read ALL the books in that library. Around 100. Sarla Mavashi, the librarian was extremely generous with me (from what I remember). The last book off that library's shelf was a version of Ramayana in prakrit hindi. Did not understand a thing. But the pictures were good, so worked :D
There was also a comics reading era. Don't remember if it was before this stint or after. Every week during the entire summer vacation, brother would go with his friends to this comics library and get 2 comics. Of course they would be bartered with other neighboring kids, so we would end up reading 4-5 comics in a week. This mainly included spiderman, nagraj, dhruv and other such. Chacha chowdhary's presence was sporadic in the list, depending on how much I whined. Sibling pyaar or rivalry, there was only one subscription in the household (I guess aai-baba believed in sharing) and since we hated going together (my version: bro never took me with him :D) and in those rare cases when baba took us, would we be the perfect, loving siblings granting each other one comics of choice each.


Well, sadly we moved away from these libraries after std 4 and libraries vanished from my life. The reading that happened over the school year would be, Reader's digest, competition success review, chandoba, tinkle, sportsstar etc. But every vacation I would religiously take out all the story books at home and read them. So treasure island, sherlock holmes and a few other children's classics are etched in my mind. Also, whatever marathi books from aai's collection which aai thought were ok enough for my sensibilities came my way. Around this time the idea to write a book on my own, first took shape. Thankfully it did not last long :D


So over my 3rd summer at the new place, I found some book lovers and keepers. After initial barters, it was found out that I owned comparatively less number of books. So once those were over, the other kids (who were smarter for 12 year olds) started a library with a 20 Rs. deposit and 5 Rs. per month fee. Well, as long as I got to lay my hands on the Arabian nights book which I was craving for the entire summer, I did not mind. Plus, since cycle expenses were equivalent to nil during summer, I did not mind shelling out my own money. So one way or the other I could not get rid of books, until I reached a state when studies and boards took precedence over every other activity.


After a 2 year drought which included 10th standard exams, I was introduced to mills and boons, sidney sheldon, geoffery archer, mary higgins clark, john grisham, james hadley chase. Mills and boons lasted for 2 books, whereas sheldon and grisham won my coveted readership. I also happened to read My experiments with truth (and Anita Desai and Shashi Deshpande - WEIRD), which kind of changed my opinions about a lot of things, including the person who wrote it.
Move to COEP circa 2002-2006, and harry potter, ayn rand, calvin and hobbes, few marathi books captured my attention. I remember throwing off my Preparatory Leave (PL) over atlas shrugged and trying to figure it out. College done, but I am still not done with the figuring out. Talk of being slow.


Well, after that the books which I distinctly remember leaving an impact on me, are To kill a mockingbird (Harper Lee) and Eagle in the sky (Wilbur Smith), which I happened to read in 2007. (whoa! I have a pretty good memory :D) Books have somehow been a constant in this life. With periodic slumbers, the reading habit has more or less been there. And as my horizons are expanding and so is my information crunching ability, I guess this vice will stick with me for the rest of this life. :)


~nightflier

Source code-ed!

So if you watch that movie, do make note of the red building near which the train explosion takes place.
That's my school!!!!! (you have to look out for this particular building)

courtesy - google

clicked by my N72 - circa 2009 spring

Also the movie features tons (is that even a relevant metric?) of chicago!!! And metra train!!! And millennium park (that was my favorite show-any-visitor-friend destination) And my school!!!


The building is very old btw (from 1930 or something). There are still those old elevators inside which take 4 minutes to travel 4 floors!! And there are spiral iron staircases too! They have kept and maintained all these antic(s) from times gone by. iLike!


Oh btw, I had gone equally crazy after seeing bhagat singh (ajay devgan wali) movie, because they had shot extensively in our undergrad college. :D 
[before that I used to be amused by such going-crazy people!]


And to think that, I was going to skip on the movie today, and to remain down in the dumps. I am glad for taking this good decision! Sometimes strangest co-incidences can cheer you up! :)


~nightflier

...

A friend commented on a really old picasa picture related to this and I suddenly realized how happy I was during that entire time. It was a strange feeling. I feel an emptiness inside. :-(


Missing Shayok and Krishna and working with them.


~nightflier

speechless

C.H.I.C.A.G.O.


My soulmate, my friend, my love!
I don't know how I will fill the void. I will never forget you!


tears,
~nightflier

Gangaram

Been born and brought up in the same city (same neighbourhood more like) my childhood seems pretty uneventful to me. Leaving aside the minor skirmishes of sibling rivalry, my scrappiness in outdoor events and a few illness stricken periods, there were never major instances of the belonging crisis, short lived friendships, or for that matter moving or shifting. For the 2 or 3 times we moved, we just shifted by a block or two. Never ever had to leave the coziness of my sweet and charming west nagpur neighbourhood. Having stated that, Gangaram holds a very special place in my uneventful childhood.


For he was, my rikshawala for a span of 4 years. From 3rd standard to 6th. He was my first friend from the other side of the age line. And I think for that matter all of us, for whom he was a rikshawala. He did not have a very good looking rikshaw, but it was very well maintained and neat. He also had a secret hiding place beneath the rikshaw seat where he kept all the mechanical tools and we were forbidden to even lift the seat a bit without his permission. Those were his rules. He had a flaring temper, rude mannerisms, rash language but there was a mischievous charm about him. He would never talk rudely with our parents or us. But other rikshawalas and their pampered kids always used to be targets of his rustic sarcasm. He would always indulge in silly banter with us kids. Sometimes hiding away our bags or waterbottles if we showed him any attitude or were careless with his rikshaw!


He seemed (and still seems) pretty ageless (might have been in his 50s back then) to me as a kid. I would always ask mom dad how old he must be. Cos I always used to wonder how a single person can ride a rikshaw filled with 10 kids without any help ?? (I also used to wonder how many kids he might have, where he lived, what he ate, but strangely never bothered to ask :-|) Super duper herculean stuff! Literally! And on Saturdays he used to pull a rikshaw full of almost 15 kids (because kids from a stupid nearby school used to join us). And since we were used to the royal treatment and our coveted positions in the rikshaw, we made deals with Gangaram. On Saturdays he would let us sit on the balcony (terrace) seats called the TUP and in turn lessen the chaos and pain in his life :D For this dude had issues with our rivalry and fights for the throne. 


And then it reminds me of the infamous incident. On one such Saturday, there was something wrong with his rikshaw and we were given the responsibility of holding an iron spike and also not make any noise. No points for guessing we messed it up, one of us (we had turns to hold that thing) dropped the spike, it got stuck in the rikshaw wheels and all hell broke loose. Galti se! The next thing I remember is a very angry Gangaram shouting, us getting down with our stuff all teary and he helping us cross the road. He then instructed us to head home on our own and went back to his broken rikshaw. Thinking this is the last time we were seeing him, we waited for him to call back our names and say goodbye. Oh sweet innocence. Of course, he did not. 
To our surprise and shock, he was back the next morning (with a fit and fine rikshaw), politely listening to our parents lecture about being responsible. That incident was never mentioned by him or us. And guess we were back to being a team!


I still see him pulling the same rikshaw filled with boisterous kids. And he gives the typical mischievous grin and tells me how my bike wheels are rotating in the reverse direction. Well that's his trademark! 


I owe you one Gangaram for making my childhood so eventful! :)


~nightflier


P.S. Have they found a cure for incurable nostalgia ?

Quotable quote!

“All that is gold does not glitter, 
not all those who wander are lost; 
the old that is strong does not wither, 
deep roots are not reached by the frost. 
From the ashes a fire shall be woken, 
a light from the shadows shall spring; 
renewed shall be blade that was broken, 
the crownless again shall be king." 


- Bilbo Baggins


P.S. I badly want to read LOTR!


~nightflier

Blast from the past

Whenever I am down in the dumps, I have this habit of remembering all these nice and sometimes queer things/incidents. As you might have deduced I suffer from incurable nostalgia. But these normally work as a good ego massage ;)

Few of the ones which resurface by default are

1. A senior from COEP. She has the most amazing 4 year old kid and through Orkut, FB I have been able to see her grow up, through these years. Now we are not exactly buddies, in terms of junior-senior relationship. But while wishing her on her birthday, I could not help but tell her how adorable her daughter was (I also told her that her daughter's smile makes my day. And I was not being obnoxious at all. You will have the same feeling when you see her snaps.) And after a few days I got a really cute reply from her, which said, 'I can just imagine the smile of your daughter (whenever she decides to come) to be just like yours!' 

How awfully nice of her :) It makes me feel good, now please don't ask why :P

2. A small little mail from my brother. In the 'siblings' perspective he has this strange calming quality quite contrary to my strong-headedness. In a mail I had blasted some hi-quality emotional stuff to him. In reply to that, he had said the most simple things in the most simple manner. (Personal stuff, so cannot reveal :P) But it gives me strength to see things in a clear/simple manner, whenever I am in a mess.

3. Mom's letters. Always very motivational and pure at heart :)

4. Aajoba's (Grandfather) letters. They are awfully cryptic and every reading makes me see things in a new light :D

5. A small short story written by Cervantes on Don Quixote. My aatya (Father's sister) had this amazing habit of gifting us books for our birthdays. And this book I am talking about had inspiring stories of great philosophers who were held captive or were prisoners during their lifetime. Though I cant re-write the exact story here, it speaks of the quests of Don Quixote. The story basically reflected Cervantes internal struggle. (Can go really deep but for the sake of sanity wont). I cannot thank my aatya enough for introducing me to this illusive character when I was 13!

6. A really cute poem that KT had given to me as a birthday present. It still remains my greatest and most treasured birthday gift ever!

7. Harry potter and the deathly hallows. Reading it makes me think. Always!

8. Cannot think of anything else. How I had wished while starting this post, that it will have 10 points. Alas!

~nightflier

Jab we met !!!

I met him after an year today !

As I parked the activa and went inside, there was slight hesitation in my mind.

Will he recognize me ?

Will it be like the old times ?

Will we meet like kids, without caring for what others think ? OR

Will we meet like two adults who care for what people might think about such public display of affection ?

Will we hug or just pat each other ?

Will he let go of me ?

Will he jump at my purse to see what I have got him ?

Will he scold me with his typical growling voice for not visiting him for so long ?

Will he come outside to say me goodbye, later ?

Well, when we did meet finally, he did not move from his place first. His gaze was fixed on me. Yes, the same heart mending look, which had made me fall for him. My heart skipped a beat, but then he stood and started walking towards me !!! After the initial awkward moments, we let go of inhibitions and met like kids! I patted him and caressed him. He returned it with the heart warming hug. He had not forgotten me at last :)

Well, then I proceeded towards meeting other folks. As the evening progressed he could be seen to be constantly around me. He did everything he could to grab my attention. And I kept on pretending that I was not getting any of those 'subtle' hints ;)

Yes, Bruno still remembered me. Like the old times.

I just did not have any answer for his inquiring gaze, asking me where his real girl friend was ? I just said, sorry dude, she wont be here till December.

And yes, he did come till a very long distance to say goodbye, in his own caring and affectionate way of racing with my vehicle, till he could match with the activa's horsepower.

~nightflier :)

P.S. Bruno is a friend's dog :) And we have our history ;)

count your blessings !!

A friend sent me loads of stuff from India and you won't believe how blessed I feel at this moment.

Even though she does not read my blog that often, I am going ahead and dedicating this post to her.

We have spent 4 years of undergraduate life as roommates, technically seeing each other through the thick and thin of college days, spent away from home. She was the perfect companion. She was always there, understanding, fighting, consoling, teasing, caring, and never giving up on me. We blended so well together that our parents never worried about us. They knew we were in safe (each other's) hands.

As hostelites we had planned to visit every one's hometown at least once during the four years. And this amazing girl bonded so well with all my relations, that they still remember her fondly. 

Her purity and innocence are so soothing, that just talking to her after a very bad day, puts a bright smile across your face.

I remember, we (a bunch of friends) lecturing her about how careless she was with her health and food habits. Now she lives alone in a big bad city independently, taking care of herself, eating the proper foods, exercising regularly and striking a balance with her workaholic ways. And at the end of the day she is a good daughter, a good sister, a good employee and a better friend. I could not have been more proud of anyone.

Call it luck but its a miracle to find people who love you for who you are at every turn of your life. There could not have been anything more miraculous in my life.

And today as I eat the Indian bhel poori (she sent me a bhel poori packet thinking I must be missing out on my favorite snack. Such thoughtfulness, I am touched beyond words..) I cannot stop myself from going down memory lane and getting nostalgic.

You rock girl !!

I loveeeeeee you :) :)

~nightflier

Happy Diwali !!

Wish you all a very Happy and Prosperous Diwali !!

This is my second Diwali away from home, in a string of 'away-from-home' Diwali's, a routine which looks kind of set now. 

On the first away Diwali, I was in Mysore. Trying hard to catch a glimpse of those festive lights in the markets and houses. Dying to wear new clothes on each of those 5 days. Craving for Diwali faraal. And jumping at the distant sound of bursting of a cracker sitting in my hostel room, 25 km's away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

Well, it was a different experience. I had watched a movie, first day first show, more of a premier of DON, the SRK one. This was a prohibited thing to do back home. Watching a movie in a theatre, that too on Laxmipujan day was considered a sin!!!! Actually, it never occurred to me as a kid that you could also celebrate Diwali, in such modern fashion !! :D

The saving grace that time had been a visit to a temple and some couriered faraal (puran poli,chakli and chiwda) from home. Mom's are incorrigible. The thought of enjoying all these pleasures without their kids around is torturous to them. Meriwali (as SRK says in kal ho na ho) is sending some stuff this time too :)

Some things to reminisce about.

I used to have a set of allotted tasks every year. Making torans (garlnads) for the house. Every year me and my bro would come up with some new ishtyle and decorate the front door and gallaries. 

Then was the herculean task of drawing Rangoli. Herculean because, I would draw a single big rangoli for our entire neighborhood (my place and the neighbor aaji's place). That was the most fun activity. Everyone would try to help me out in their own ways. Aajoba used to get his big ruler and help me out aligning the dots. I was never a free hand person so would always draw the rangoli with dots and straight lines with as little curves as possible :) Then my brother and dad, would help me out choose the color scheme. It was a matter of neighborhood pride, you see, which house has the most colorful and spectacular rangoli. Mom would be the last person to take a peek along with aaji, too busy in the kitchen with a grand menu of Puran Polis, bhajji, saar (aamti) and rice. They would give critical remarks or try to suggest something  different, which I would just shrug off saying, they should be happy with the 3 hours of collective efforts!!

The last task used to be arranging the living room, lighting lanterns, illuminating every nook and corner of the house, inviting goddess Laxmi to enlighten our lives (that's the childhood story I have been told and come to believe). 

Well, the list ends here. Shows how much my mom trusts me!! 

No heavy duty work my way :D 

There were some routines which I secretly detested as a kid. The get togethers for faraal, where entire neighborhood families will come over. The joshi's today and the Sharma's tomorrow. For the sole reason that, I would never finish off the stuff in my plate, only to get sneers and booos from other kids. Thankfully mom-dad were too sweet to say anything in front of everyone!! I still wonder how some kids can eat just anything in their plates. I have no disrespect for food, but I can eat only little at a time :( A trait which is in my system. I admire those kids and their parents, who never had to teach their kids eating manners, unlike mine :(

I also did not approve of it very much it, when my brother would just drag me to the terrace and burst those noisy crackers. The peace loving me would just disappear in a corner with ears covered with both hands. Why guys his age loved to show off their firecraking skills, was a mystery to me then. Initially like a good caring sibling, thinking that I have a perpetual fear of crackers, he would encourage me to try bursting them. Thankfully he gave up :) But can you imagine, he's celebrating a non polluting Diwali this year, as a mark of respect to my absence!! Poor thing sure does not know that, I enjoy the navy pier fireworks almost every alternate weekend :D

I miss all this.

But Diwali away from home, also gives me a chance to celebrate it in my own way. To try something different. I kind of have an apartment of my own (haaan..rented hai lekin mera hai :D) So I am making elaborate lunch plans. No match to mom's culinary skills, I admit. But my desi and non-desi friends will not mind, as long as they are getting good food!! Planning to attend Diwali mass. And light some lanterns too. Catch up on studies and watching some animated movies is something else I want to do.

We have also cleaned the house, almost. And now I know what a pain it must be for the motherkind to do this huge task all by themselves with a little help from us and maid aajibai.

All the good things and bad things apart, what matters is the festive spirit. Celebrating life and making yourself and in turn others happy :) Indulging in small activities to make life more fun. We need such breaks to enjoy the feeling of togetherness. Many people don't need a reason to celebrate, but for those many who have forgotten the little incentives life has to offer, this is like an opportunity offered every year, without any 'conditions apply' tag at the end. 

I wish that no conditions apply to your happiness and good spirits this festive season. Wish you all an illuminating Diwali and a-throw-your-fears-away Halloween (just remembered..it's the halloween on 31st OCT!!).

nightflier :)

for you my amigos...

Today we had a carnival at school as part of the homecoming week..
and i could not enjoy, not because i was worried about the approaching mid-terms or the impending assignments or the looming project submissions..
but because i was missing my friends..
so much that every event i took part in seemed meaningless (yeah sounds filmy :( but true)

the mela trips, the dinner outings, the rock concerts, the shopping sprees, the cook-outs, the gossip sessions, the endless chit-chatting about nothing in general, the movies, the dances, the college fests, the office coffee rooms, the collage competitions, the cubicle decoration, the shootouts (photos) for fun, the birthday surprises, the cake cuttings, the impromptu trips, the treks, badminton days, sudoku solving, the endless debates on moral issues, the parties...
sigh...

i shed a few tears,
thinking about you my dear..
the great times we had,
are a testimony that i was glad..
life turns a mystic hue,
as i wipe off the dew..

I miss you guys itna saara..
hope you all are doing good, wherever you are..

guess an episode or two of 'friends' will cheer me up :)