Being the "magu"!

I have always in my head believed that I am an independent girl and that I can really do anything that I set my heart to. But off late the realization strikes that I really have a need to be babied. I probably don't need it as much as want it.

Part of it probably comes from being the youngest one from dad and mom s side of the family. But suddenly after marriage I am not even the youngest between my hubby and me. I am more of a child now than what I ever was when I really was a child. Does that make any sense? All my childhood I was this mature, responsible person who frowned upon toys and cartoons as these I believed were too childish for my taste. But suddenly I like being the child - having someone fuss over me, get me the things I demand, eat some favorite food items without sharing and the like. 

An not sure if this indulgence is healthy or not, but I do know I am loving the attention and I pray that it lasts.

What kind of a Cook are you?

I read an article in paper today on kitchen humor. It seems there are 4 categories of cooks in this world :

1. Unconscious Incompetent

2. Conscious Incompetent

3. Conscious Competent

4. Unconscious Competent

As the name suggests the dream is to get to stage 4 where competent cooking comes naturally without too much effort. And obviously the worst stage is the first one where you cannot cook and you don't know that.

Before I got married I was clearly stage 1 where I believed that cooking can't be too hard as my mother and sister managed to cook well without too much effort. I used to think a major part of the skill was genetic and I would be a good cook too. But now wiser with some years of cooking under my belt, am at stage 2 - still incompetent but aware that cooking isn't my cup of tea and this skill isn't acquired from genes.

Will I progress to stage 3 ? Not likely as the leap from incompetent to competent is a huge one requiring effort and also I have a hubby who is already at stage 3. It might be more worthwhile to spend my energy in making him reach stage 4!

Equality in marriages

After marriage I have been forced to become a champion for woman's rights, forever keeping a tab on whether there is equality in the true sense in my marriage. All these years, while I was still single I have never felt the need to be a feminist barring the instances when the curfew time for being a girl was much lesser than that of other boys my age.But off late every task I do makes me ponder ' Am I expected to do this because I am the female in the relationship? '. This attitude tires you and makes you more irritable at having to even keep a tab on something that you believe is actually a birthright.

What makes this situation difficult is that it is not the husband who makes you feel this. It is the expectations of a role of a woman in society that completely bogs you down. To elaborate let me quote an example. While it is completely acceptable for the guy to go to some family get together in shorts, it still isn't ok for the girl to do the same. Jeans is probably still acceptable but it irritates to know that people point it out when you aren't conforming to the standards these people set.

One can fight it by being the rebel which I largely feel I am. But having to even fight it annoys me and makes me wonder if the only way there will be equality in a relationship is in same sex marriages. At least then you probably won't get invited to social events and society can't stereotype roles and expectations if both of you are females.

Chitradurga in pictures!

I have always been a fan of Polaroid pictures - each one telling a story of its own.Here's a blog full of such polaroid pictures of a trip to Chitradurga only because I love looking at them!

Even though I have lived all my life in Bangalore, I had only visited the "touristy" districts of Karnataka  - Mysore, Coorg and  Mangalore. When we planned the trip to Chitradurga, I was skeptical on what I would find in a place that to me seemed like the "middle of nowhere". I was pleasantly surprised when I reached the Chitradurga fort.A light drizzle on that day made the weather pleasant and below are some pics of the fort and the temples on the fort.

Chitradurga Fort

Temples in the fort

I heard of an interesting story of a brave woman name Obavva who guarded the Chitadurga  fort tower while her husband and other soldiers went on a lunch break.The enemies attacked and had to come through the small crevice that you see in the picture.  With great presence of mind she immediately hid behind the crevice in the fort and hit at each soldier trying to squeeze through the crevice with Onake, the name given in Kannada to a pestle, a wooden rod used for pounding paddy. In this process, she bravely killed several enemy soldiers. By the time her husband appeared on the scene, she had already dragged several bodies of dead soldiers into the fort wall and was standing around the dead bodies with the blood stained Onake in her hand. This brave act saved the fort on that day from further attacks. This act also earned her the epithet Onake Obavva and the crevice in the fort where she showed her bravery is called Obawa Kindi. 

Me enacting the role of Obavva and my hubby playing the enemy soldier at Onake Obavvana Kindi

There were a couple of treks that were very different from what I have ever done. One such was atop the place called "Tuppada Kola" which in Kannada means a pond of ghee. In olden times, horses used to carry Ghee and this trek needs you to go on all fours for a distance by using the footholds engraved in the stone for horse hooves. Below is a pic of a bunch us climbing up on all fours in this stretch.

Tuppada Kola

View after the trek

Next morning we did another trek to "Gopalswamy Betta".It took a good two hours and below are some pics from there.

Arial View from Gopalswamy Betta

Rangoli!

For years, a trip to MG Road has been synonymous with the view of the bougainvillea lined avenue with ample park benches to sit and watch the people pass by. During the season of ' Bangalore Habba', street art spilled all over the boulevard. I remember walking on the 'Artists Walkway' checking out the artworks, getting caricatures done and soaking in the ambience. When they broke down the boulevard for metro construction I was angry. The promises of a new boulevard once the metro construction was complete seemed distant and empty.But boy how I was wrong!

Rangoli - the new name for the refurbished boulevard is really splendid.
It houses multiple art galleries, one of them having exhibits from pictures of old bangalore, interactive fountain ,children's play area, a wall dedicated to the history of Bangalore and so many saplings and flowers. The ramp on top stills houses the bougainvilla avenue similar to yester years.The thing that I liked the most on this new walkway was the life- size 'Snakes and ladders ' game in the children's area. A huge dice was hurled and adults and children alike were engrossed on this board.

I also hear that the exhibitions and stalls keep changing every month to keep it fresh and intersting. A stroll down this lane is a must do if you are in Bangalore.

'Snakes and Ladders'

Wall adorned with ants at one of the art galleries

Just let me be!

"Just let me be" is a philosophy that screams for an existence - without being noticed or judged or applauded or criticized, to just be and not be bothered by worries of tasks or chores that don't interest you.

If being a control freak is largely considered a negative trait then shouldn't being the one who readily gives up the control reins of chores that doesn't interest you be considered a positive trait? Isn't it a sign of maturity to say " I really don't care what the decision on this matter is.. I am ok either ways..people who seem to care about a side please take a call and just let me be "? I don't know about you people but I truly believe that it is a skill to distance yourself from taking sides or even being involved in matters that are just too trivial for you. What is a good, healthy normal trait in my opinion is apparently considered to be a negative trait. I tend to get perceived of as lazy , unwilling to accept responsibility, slacker and also as a stubborn person showing no inclination to adapt. Before you jump to conclusions about me, let me clarify that this philosophy applies only to some things in life and not to all. I do genuinely care about some chores and take full charge of them. The question really is -can people accept it when I honestly admit that I don't care enough about a particular task to make any decisions and would willingly give the reins of control to whoever is interested?

With the typical stereotyping of roles in society I find it extremely hard to follow my philosophy.If not wanting to be involved itself is such a liberating thought , imagine if society in general warms up to this idea - 'just let me be' may be the best thing that ever happened to you!

Sand, Sun and the Cowherd

The story begins with a lazy day in Calungute, Goa on a hot summer afternoon. The beach was a kilometer away from the hotel, so we decided to walk it up. We spent the day in the beach - playing in the water, resting under the shade of an umbrella in a beach chair, eating and drinking in a 'Shack' - one of the many makeshift restaurants at the beach.

In the night, we decided to head out to Baga beach and eat either at Mambo's or Tito's located in the famous Tito's lane near Baga beach. We walked by the sea where the sand is the softest from Calungute to Baga by the moonlight. It was calm and a nice breeze was blowing. We didn't realize the distance we had covered. We ate again at a shack on Baga as most other restaurants were shut as it was Good Friday.

When it was time to head back, my hubby insisted on us walking back to our hotel. So the troop trudged along reluctantly behind our cowherd aka my hubby - who lead us ( or tried to rather ) with a map in hand and an imaginary stick to herd the reluctant cattle behind him. After walking many kilometers when there were murmurs and complaints asking for breaks or calling for a taxi- the Cowherd stops and shows us on the map how we are close to a Tibetian market which itself isn't too far from our hotel. We trudged along reluctantly- our food all digested and pulling the weight of our aching bodies. After another 30 mins of this we see another Tibetian market and realize the area is full of them and only after a few more so called ' hundreds of meters' did we reach a place that was even listed on the map.Finally after walking for about two hours or so we finally arrived at our hotel.

Herding cattle, they say, is an art and a science that requires patience, knowledge of flight-zone, and a bit of bovine psychology. On this trip, I was convinced that my hubby would make an awesome Cowherd as he not only managed to get a reluctant group to walk , but also made us walk for hours together.

The 'Souq' experience

I entered an arena and saw rows and rows of lit up stalls. The crowd was diverse with people from different nationalities. In the corner was a man making bubbles enclosing objects and stacking them up to make a bubble pyramid. In the center was a huge mango tree with its branches bearing green mangoes. Below the tree was a make shift pedestal lit up with blue stars and atop it was a stage with a band playing music. The audience were all around- smoking, drinking, eating, shopping and making merry.

As I walked around, I saw stalls selling pottery, jewellery, clothes from beach wear to gowns worthy of the 'Khaleesi' aka Danerys Targeryan of Game of Thrones fame. There was a nip in the air and as I climbed the hill I could see below all the shops lit up with their knick knacks. There was a mix of smells in the air from the various food stalls in the market. The menus ranged from meatballs in Bulgaria, to German bakeries, to Thai salads, to waffles and crepes to dosa and pav Bhaji. There were make shift shops dealing with forex in the open and so were shops selling drinks from draught beer to elegant cocktails. The place was clean with a set of people constantly picking up the trash and cleaning the tables near food stalls.

I sat in the open arena under the stars on that saturday night in march listening to music, watching a bunch of youngsters entering a stall a few feet from the stage - picking up sign boards, bright colored toupees and funky accessories all in a minute and making a memory with a souvenir pic telling they were having fun at the ' Saturday Night Market' in Arpora, Goa.

Eulogy for my lemon tree!

I bought a lemon plant a couple of months ago and pictured it growing big in my balcony bearing a number of yellow lemons. It was a tiny plant in a big pot – giving it room to bloom into a beautiful shrub.I imagined cooking in my kitchen, humming a tune , with the smell of fresh lemons and the sight of a blooming tree to soothe my nerves and get me into the relaxed and cooking frame of mind.

There were problems from the very beginning – a branch which carried tiny green lemons partially snapped in the car due to sudden braking. We came home – tied twine around the broken stem, showering it with love and care and we wished to nurse it back. But it was not to be. The branch slowly turned brown and died and we had to sever it to keep the rest of the plant healthy. We kept changing the place where we kept this pot – some places were too sunny, some were too windy and some places had too much shade. Our tiny plant also survived an attack by a pigeon in the balcony. We nursed it, we watered it and hoped it would survive. Voila! It did – new leaves began to sprout and I was delighted. We began to slowly take the plant for granted and only watered it once a day. Weekends we weren’t at home, so watered it in excess on Friday and hoped it will survive till Monday.

Slowly there were long weekends/ travels abroad and we were missing from the house for weeks on end. For the first such trip, we placed the pot outside the front door and requested the neighbour to water it. Then the travel got more frequent and so did the neglect. When I last saw it, it was withering, but at least it was still alive. This week while I am still away and my hubby was unwell and not in our place – it must have withered completely and died.

I miss it , but I can still see the yellow lemon tree although my plant never even grew more than an inch before our neglect killed it. I wish I had taken more care and I do hope someday I can nurture and grow a tree – like the one I see in my head!

I wonder how
I wonder why
Yesterday you told me 'bout the blue blue sky
And all that I can see is just a yellow lemon-tree
I'm turning my head up and down
I'm turning turning turning turning turning around
And all that I can see is just another lemon-tree!

I miss you, my dear sapling!

P.S : After writing this big eulogy, I finally went home and saw my resilient sapling still alive in-spite of our negligence. Sorry my dear hubby for accusing you to be the killer of my lemon tree!

Theatrical Bookshop

Bookstores are always a favourite place for me to visit. Shelves filled with books and small couches for you to sit down and peruse the books you wanna buy, kiosks where you try and find titles that interest you - all of it holds a charm for me.

Just imagine how happy I was to hear that one of world's most beautiful bookstores in the world was just a few blocks away from where I was staying in Recoleta, Buenos Aires. I couldn't resist a visit to El Ateneo Grand Splendid Bookstore.It was once a theatre which staged tango performances by some famous artists.This book lover’s palace located in the old Grand Splendid Theater retains all the decadence of an Italian opera house.

The theater boxes are intact and are fitted with comfy chairs that invite visitors to lounge perusing book selections on a rainy afternoon.The Splendid’s stage remains encased by thick burgundy curtains, and now serves as the bookstore’s pleasant cafe. A live pianist performs on stage in the afternoons and, thanks to the great acoustics, can be heard throughout the store.

 Balconies where one can sit and read

This building is over a 100 years old and look how grand it still is. I couldn't help but wish we had something like this in India and was wondering what would it take to build such a beautiful bookstore back home.

The Art of Letting Go!

Disclaimer: This post is going to a rant! You can stop reading now if do not wish to hear me complain and then contemplate on it.

How many times has someone been condescending towards you or even said something to you that didn't go down well with you? Are you the kind of person who stands up and tells a person that you didn't like what they said? Or are you the silent sufferer who can't let it go but can't tell the person you have a problem either? I do a little bit of both and find that neither is helpful. Over time this translates into an excel in my head with a list of grudges against people. What is frustrating is I cannot let go. Every time I think about these incidents I get angry mainly at myself that it still affects me so much.

How does one let go? How does one forgive when you haven't been apologized to? How do you ask for an apology from a person who doesn't even know he has hurt you? I lose respect for people and trust me it is very difficult for my excel to get updated with renewed respect.

The solution, as my hubby says, is to not think about these things at all. But I ain't wired that way and need an outlet to let things go. Ranting helps a little but it isn't enough to just reset the excel in my head and start afresh.

Beautiful places of worship

All of a sudden a lot of travel fell in place and I have been quite touristy.I have happened to visit some places of worship and they have interested me enough to dedicate a blog to them.Am usually not an advocate for visiting any religious sites but these ones were really beautiful.

Place 1 : Grand Mosque, Abu Dhabi
I visited Abu Dhabi and saw the most beautiful mosque.While driving from the airport to Abu Dhabi,the lit up mosque far from the road piqued my interest. I immediately enquired about it and decided to visit it the next morning.It was magnificient with white arches tastefully decorated and extravagant chandeliers hanging in the prayer room.

 

Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque - Side view

 

 

           Reflective pools surround the mosque, amplifying its beauty.

 

 

Such an extravagant mosque has been built which is open to all and so much money has been spent on it. But still the entry to this place of worship is free for all and best part is no attempt is made to recover the money spent on making this beautiful mosque.This mosque has a strict dress code and women have to to wear Abaya if they arent covering thier heads.

Me in Abaya under the chandelier

 

This is one of the world's largest mosques and houses the world's largest hand knitted carpet in the prayer room.Sheikh Zayed after whom this mosque is named is buried here.

 

Place 2: Basilica Nuestra Señora del Pilar, Buenos Aires

 

A large and beautiful gleaming white church Basilica Nuestra Señora del Pilar is the oldest church of Buenos Aires which has an architecture of Baroque style. Considered one of the best-preserved examples of Argentine colonial architecture, the church was built by the Franciscan Recoleto in 1732 and is the adjacent to the famous Recoleta cemetery. Its ornate silver altar, tile work and chapels deserve more than a quick look. There is an Inca style sun made in silver in front of the main altar.

 

Outside the church on weekends is a flea market of sorts where you get on sale - souvenirs to hand crafted jewellery. A stroll in this park converted into a market is interesting for all the knick knacks up for the sale and in general to observe the many visitors to this market.

 

Of goodbyes

Year after year, the time comes for me to say goodbye to another friend and it never gets easier. Slowly you make new friends and hang out with different people. It is quite a shame how resilient we humans are and how quickly we move on.

This post is dedicated to you my friend for having spent innumerable hours over coffee talking about books, relationships, life in general, politics and everything else under the sun.This is a thank you post for the long walks after lunch, for cribbing but still working together, for dragging me to the book reading sessions (which by the way I absolutely loved), for telling me and taking me to plays, for making me try a new cuisine ;) and most important of all for putting up with my general ramblings.

Adios my pal... You shall be greatly missed!