Beauty in the house

Today, there was a new girl in the yoga class.  She was very beautiful.  Slim, tall, and very flexible. Her skin was luminous. In fact, she looked like the delightful crescent moon I was staring at before she walked in. There were fewer people in the class today so we took it with fewer lights on. This girl just glowed through all those postures.  It was like taking a beam made of the softest water colors and bending it into different shapes. Not once did she grunt or pant. Everything about her was so smooth and mastered.

I like beauty.  Makes me want to be a better person.

Do you feel like this sometimes

That this body is too small for you? That this structure is too tight? Much of your motion is just fidgeting to get used to this restriction.  That you want to peel off your clothes, peel off your skin, dismantle your bones, and step out. I think there's a line by Rilke that goes something like this: I want to leave myself behind and walk under the stars. If the stars rather be elsewhere, then the soft unfolding darkness will do. Do you feel like this life is too long, much too long. You can segment each task and spoon out eternity in manageable chunks but even after everything is crossed out the list, many days remain. They stretch out, far and endless, but like running paint on floor, they hedge you into a corner. Do you ever feel that you are big? Much too big and immense? Not in the glorious, magnificent kind of way. Just in the sort of way that you will always be a misfit everywhere because there isn't enough space.  The universe is a lilliput land and all thd galaxies are dust under your fingernails. And every little day, every single thing shrinks and you bloat.

A day I missed

I had an off today. I didn't know what for but was later informed that it is MahaShivratri. This year, I had made some plans of fasting today and visiting the beautiful Someshwar temple near Baner. Instead, I had no clue that the day had crept up so silently. So I slept, watched some stuff on YouTube (an interview of the man who authored 'The $100 Start-up' was good), and went for yoga.

The yoga instructor, who is a really good teacher from Alaska, told the class that we are making progress. However, I don't think so. I think that there are so many postures that I can't even begin to get right. But, I suppose if I just stayed the course, things will improve.

Anyway, I walked back home after class through a beautiful, cool night. It was nearly ten o'clock by the time I got done. Some frugal rations had to be bought (end of month scenario going on at the moment). But I did spend on the last few hundreds on items that were not really necessary -like a chilled Red Bull that I wanted to enjoy in my balcony, a large packet of oats which had a delectable strawberry on it, and a few lemons. Pune's getting hotter now and sweet, chilled lime water with some pepper is quite lovely! Speaking of lovely beverages, there's a Masala Cola that served at Mast Kalandar that I love! A colleague called it 'Hajmola on fizz' as if it's a bad thing. That is exactly what it is and it's yummy!

Anyway, I got home and wanted to make something really simple. There was some daal and a beans and peas sabzi. I boiled a couple of potatoes with skin. Then I halved them, put a thick pat of butter on each half, and finished off with a screw of salt, pepper, and chaat masala. It was just so good.

A couple of friends have now moved to Gurgaon. Gurgaon, as of tonight, was enjoying scrumptious weather. Rains, fast winds, and from what my friend described, lots of chimes across the sprawling complexes going off together like some acoustic Mexican wave. Over the phone, I heard some delicious howling of the wind and splatter of rain. It made me deeply wish that Gurgaon was 3 hours from Pune.

I made some tea and here I am posting this. Day is gone but it was nice.

 

A thousand words...almost?

Had done this a long time ago. Quite like it. Would like to learn to make posters.

Why this Sunday was so n-I-c-e

1. It began early.  Had made plans with a colleague to go to Koregaon Park today at 10.30. She was on time, which was wonderful! So, we were out the door into the cool, crisp Sunday morning with delay.

2. The traffic was a dream!  The drive was like a motorized spa treatment.  We chatted about the different cities we'd lived in, thd different spaces in those cities, and the gloriousness of just 'being'.

3. A shopping spree at one of my favorite places, BusyBee in Lane 7 for some cute tops, dresses,  and summer jackets. And then in one of hers, Naksha, on the main North Main Road, near Lane 5. Very pretty, colourful cotton skirts and wispy, chic kurtis in pop oranges, pinks, yellows,  and greens. Sale currently on in both places but even at full price, good stuff.

4. Leisurely brunch (my absolutely most favorite meal) at Terrtulia. Friend had a very tempting Eggs Florentine with beer, I had a large Belgian waffle with a strawberry Margarita mocktail followed by coffee.

5. A scrumptious walk all around KP to walk off the meal. Under the shaded trees and through tiny lanes and past massive, beautiful houses witn large, lawns, counting innumerable banyan trees, spotting bougainvillaes with unusually colored flowers...so restorative it was.

6. A lovely coffee and lemon cheesecake break at Darios. We sat outside in the midst of loads of happy chompers, good music in the background, listening to birdsongs. Sunshine got mellow, conversation got deeper.

7. A visit to the Nature's Basket where I spotted where my next salary will get spent...on little jars of fig preserves, packets of miso soup,  peppered cream cheese, and a large bottle of non-alcoholic pomegranate sparkler.

8. Finished reading 'Recipe for Love' by Betty Fforde. Light read. Romance.  Not spectacular but entertaining enough. Has a cooking competition as a theme. British set up so found the use of certain phrases charming: Sorry, that was a little previous of me; Women are moody when they are pupped...Also, learnt about and longing for dessert treats like croquembouche and pancakes with a custard made with white chocolate.

So good, today was. Just so good.

Sweet Valentine's Day

The weather is terrific. Mellow sunshine that is bright and yolk-y but also warm on the shoulders and back. Feels so good. But also cold wind that makes you glad you wore that scarf even though it was afternoon. You wish for a lake and a bank and a sunny glen to read.

At work, someone loaned me Maus. It's a graphic novel I have been waiting to read for a long time. Someone else brought in candied fruits from Singapore. Papaya flavors were especially tasty.

Roses that are dyed blue look sad, scary, tacky. Somethings, like a peculiar hair colour, a rose can't pull of. It has much to learn from a carnation - the ditzy, slightly unbearable lightness of being.

The day is pretty. Shines with a sheen of a bubble. Will float away like one too.

The one who writes

Just finished reading Moor's Last Sigh. It was a longer, more disturbing, at time even tedious. But the book is magical in thd way it brings out the desecration of Bombay after the Ayodhya matter...how a delicious city now has all the appeal of stale food. How wanting our love for the city has been. And yet what remains maybe is what Moor calls a defeated love. And yet, through even that, might come a deep sleep and an awakening into a new world.

Many times, I am asked or I wonder why Salman Rushdie is so special to me. Maybe its his writing. Maybe its his imagination or the way he draws out history in a way that it collapses in the now. But mostly, his books always feel like stories he is telling only me. And he tells me these tales, at least in my head, when I ask, "You know what I mean?" And through his books, he says, "Yes...let me tell you a story..."

Also, yes, his deep understanding of the way love, and occasionally Bombay works...making myths and migrants of us all.

Such irritation

Of being trapped at work when there is the last 140 pages of a novel to complete. 

A night such as childhood

Tonight, a friend stayed over. We had a simple fare of parathas, mixed vegetables,  and a spicy, cooked salad of rajma, chanaa, and soya granules. On a whim, then, we went to Peter Donuts to bring back hazelnut cappuccino and custard-filled donuts. He stopped elsewhere for chilled Coke.

Then we sat in the balcony, shivering a little in our thin cotton clothes. Slender plumes of smoke climbed away from his cigarette to the moon. We spoke of the time when we were children; when much of our world was crossed barefeet. We spoke when youth so young clogged our pores. Somewhere we laughed at some of our ideas that carried the thumbprints of a naive past. Even as we snickered,  we somewhere knew that those ideas were true.

Another cigarette was lit. Smoke again snaked towards the sky. I looked beyond at a tree top that seemed to anchor two tiny stars and a muddled moon. That little patch of a busy sky could have been anywhere. It could have been anyone's.  Yet, I saw it as childhood sat between us...barefeet. 

Do we ever grow up?

Despite everything we do. Yet, despite everything we don't.

One of those days

I woke up early today. It was still dark and cold. My friend, Gia, was pottering about in the kitchen. She is on a General Motors diet and has decided to cook her own food. That really is the best way to stay on a diet, I suppose: plan your meals and cook them yourself. Sounds of shuffling feet (mine) and steady snips of parsley (hers) fill up the kitchen. She offers to make me tea. I agree and sink into the sofa. I reach for my phone and check a few messages. Then I flip through a Vogue, looking at an incandescent Katrina Kaif wearing a pale pink feather gown applying shell-pink gloss to her lips. Her eyes are smudged with a soft grey eyeliner and a bounteous curl frames her face. She reminds me of something very fragile and fleeting - like the really fine slices of Japanese ginger Terrtulia adds in one of their pear and ginger martinis.

Terrtulia. With the wooden board that says, "Eat, Drink, Love."

It's a restaurant in Koregaon Park that I really like. Sometimes, the food is outstanding. And I do mean otustanding. Other times, it's very good. I don't imbibe and am a vegetarian. As a result, I don't find many Italian or Continental restaurants interesting anymore. Their menus are not for those like me. There is very little thought given to adults who choose to not drink or eat meats. Usually, the vegetarian options use heavy, cream or cheese sauces and the non-alcoholic beverages use a cream or sweet.

Not Terrtulia. I absolutely love their fruit Margaritas without liquor, especially the Kiwi Margarita. It's tart and spunky with fresh kiwi slivers lining up the glass. In food, they have a Spinach and corn quiche which is a baked treasure. And their pizza with rucola leaves. This, I think, must be in every order whether one is a vegetarian or non-vegetarian. The way those leaves are cooked - it's a study in perfection. The pizza base is thin and lightly coated with a herbed tomato sauce. There are few slices of pepper and olives and a few of these leaves are just coarsely plucked and placed on the top. It's all dusted off with a little cheese. That pizza is really a masterful piece of work.

Speaking of masterful pieces of work, I attended the Kala Ghoda festival the other day. It is so delightful this year - all bright colours, some really nice stalls (I loved the long, asymmetrical linen dresses and draped kurtis by this brand called 'K' or 'Kaveri'.) There were street sellers peddling neon green and pink pin-wheels that added a burst of freshness in the bright afternoon light. There are some quirky, cheeky installations that catch the light of the Mumbai afternoon sun. A conglomeration of large shards of glass caught splintered images of strangers. Three large postboxes were spray-painted with pictures of movie-stars and tied together with ropes. I didn’t get the point but the hot pinks and charcoal black worked their magic. There was a large canvas, ripped and perforated. It was supposed to represent the changing light of the Bombay sun, the shifting moods of the Arabian Sea. Right at the end of the Kala Ghoda exhibition strip, there was a large canvas shaped like a tree. Large mosaic wheels composed in the form of a tree were displayed and these wheels themselves were pieces depicting something of the city - dinky autorickshaws, huts, stripsof roads, people. 

But I think my favorite part of the art exhibition was what happened outside the exhibition. A seller had a huge stack of beautiful rings arranged on a large slab of glass. There was an infinity ring studded with two diamonds and had very interesting detailing. If you looked at it from a distance, it looked like an owl. Only on a closer look could you see the infinity motif. There was a stunning scorpio ring in green and black stones,  a thick python one in aqua and yellow stones with garnet-splinters for eyes and fangs. There was a simple silver one that looked like a ghungroo. And one really exquisite piece in some kind of black, onyx like stone that was cut like a champagne flute. It was so delectable! 

In any case, most of these were under 400 rupees and lay neatly on a large slab of greenish glass. There was some jostling when a crowd moved past the seller, the slab fell from his hands, and it shattered. Suddenly, there were these shards of green everywhere and dozens of glittery and oxidized jewelry. What really was artistic, though, was how the seller went about remedying the situation. Instead of just clumping back the jewelry somewhere, he simply rearranged the shards irregularly and positioned some jewelry on each fragment. It was so lovely! To see him fashion a pedestrian showroom for stuff right there!

There's art, there are memories, and there's the road on which both things happens. Some days I think of that.

Today, this day, this now, now this

The day is cloudy
The skies are woolly and grey
The wind is cold
The sun's out of the way
I feel such glee
For things left to do
I may get one thing done
Or maybe even two
Maybe nothing will happen
Today where so much brims
Still, at night, I'll clutch sparkles
Of my almost wanderings.

Conjunctiv-eyed

At home in Pune with one eye that is red and swollen and the other that is watering continuously. A slow fever creeps up now and then and my throat aches slightly. I won't be going to office for a week or so. I will miss all my yoga classes. However, there are some beautiful things around to make up for the sequestered life:

1. Sweet, drugged sleep but with enormous amounts of lucid dreaming.

2. Sunlight laced with sepia-tints streaming in through the glass windows and forming a lovely square on the bed.So, there's a special place on the bdd that is warm and toasty,  where you can lay your chin and blink in the light.

3. A far full of cheery carnations that a friend brought. The bunch is a crinkly collection of ruby-red and candy-pink flowers, tied with a length of moon-white ribbon.

4. Cold, cold days where brewing some hot, black coffee makes the fingers lengthen in gratitude for the warmth.

5. Put in eye drops by myself which, more than driving or making one's own money, has made me feel independent.

6. Snuggling under two quilts and yet shivering because I am reading Rushdie's Moor's Last Sigh and it's so lovely.

Irritated

Very irritated today. I have been diagnosed with conjunctivitis and some other infection.  There's no telling how long this will last. And just all in all, pissed off. But still,  really thankful to the doctor who saw me last minute even though the clinic was just about to close and even though I had no appointment.

I had not bargained for taking this kind of  long leave right in the beginning of the year but that's okay. Will make it work.  Something good will come out of it.

Unwell

I was very unwell today. My eyes were burning furiously. Since I avoid medicines as much as I can, I didn't take any. A friend, C, is staying over for a couple of weeks.  She leaves early for office. So after I had seen her off, I lay down again to take a quick nap. But my eyes burned and I just wanted to scoop them out snd soak them in iced water.
Nothing I did helped. I took a day off from work and just lay in bed waiting for the feeling to pass. Then I suddenly realised that the cook hadn't made enough food for two people.  So I decided to , ake a quick soya sabzi. The eyes were burning less now. I chopped a couple of onions for the dish and this was torture. The eyes throbbed, burned, and turned into faucets. But after I was done with the chopping, my eyes didn't burn anymore.

Am just so grateful!

My confetti days in the year gone by

2013 ended before I could write about it, even though there are lots of half-filled notebooks where I have scribbled down details.

Out of the bunch of pictures I had, these are a few. I like these photos. Remind me that forgetting is important. Clears the way like nothing else does.

Simple enough, quick enough, but nice

Lately, I have taken to dahlia or broken wheat.  It is quick and easy to cook and when you make it savoury, it can be quite a wholesome,  substantial meal. I, of course,  love it because it resembles rice in taste and texture so closely. If you have a late dinner like I do, rice tends to make you feel a little bloated and heavy. Roti makes me feel that there is more work ahead of me (I equate rotis with hard, unrewarding labour). Dahlia is a nice middle path.

Since I usually only cook for myself and that too after nearly 10 hours in office,  my preparation is very unfussy. I don't even chop vegetables, cooking them whole or maybe squaring them off in big chunks. Somehow I find it tastier that way.

Here's what I generally do: Take a cup of dahlia, two cups of a daal (I find moong and masoor works best, though), some water, a halved capsicum, a whole tomato, or large quarters of potatoes (you could take all these vegetables,  of course. I really relish the flavours of just one. I don't use onions because, well, who'll chop that much?). Then I add water, maybe 3 and a half cups or so, salt, turmeric, lots of chilli-coconut powder mix (the kind that's spread on a vada pav), some plain chilli powder,  and oil. Now, the weather's nice and crisp in Pune, so I use mustard oil. There really is nothing like it to give the sharp, hearty flavour to it. (Olive oil tastes nice too. But if you can, smoke it with some garlic for more flavour.  Corn oil, meh...it doesn't really taste like anything. Ghee is another awesome alternative. ) Mix up all this properly.

Then I pressure cook it a little longer than one pressure cooks rice - I do it for maybe 5 or 6 whistles. The vegetables are properly mashed and soft. The flavours have meshed with each other properly.

I usually have it with some Kashundi.

It's hot, very tasty, and really wholesome. I feel the right kind of full.