Posts (page 2)

What are your top 10 most-played songs currently?

1. James Blunt/ Goodbye My Lover
2. Bonnie Raitt/ Have a Heart
3. Steve Nicks/ Gold Dust Woman
4. Sheryl Crow/ Strong Enough
5. Kirsty MacColl/ England 2 Columbia 0
6. Kirsty MacColl/ Mambo de la Luna
7. Kirsty MacColl/ Treachery
8. The Beatles/ Eleanor Rigby
9. Heart/ Barracuda
10. Ani Difranco/ Angry Anymore

Time flies so fast. Its going to be our first wedding anniversary on Saturday. I can’t believe one year has passed! Its been a warm and fuzzy year, full of funny incidents, pranks, surprises, getting new jobs and relocating, setting up a cute house, and lots of conversations about lots of topics. Its been the happiest year of our lives for both of us.

Yesterday we sat down to do a little stocktaking exercise, and were amazed to find how much progress we have made on our marriage. We tried to think of improvement points and the only three we could think of are a) we both should lose weight, b) we should go out with friends more often, and c) we should make more investments. We are very happy and peaceful and look forward to many more years together.

For Saturday, S has planned a delightful surprise (not any more, he broke it yesterday)- we are going to Bangalore for the Aerosmith concert! This is very special, as he dislikes loud music of any kind and is taking me because I love Aerosmith. Yay! I am so excited! I’ve loved Steve Tyler for as long as I can remember! And I hope they sing Sunshine! We will also go on a cute walking tour to all the places where we had our first few dates- coffee shops and bookshops around the city, restaurants, etc.

Gee! I am so happy and excited!

The seagulls wound out of the sea and took possession of an emergent moon. They were laughing at their sleeplessness. I stood immobile smelling their dripping salt water wings. I wanted to be a seagull. I wanted to drink the sea and leave a wet edge round the moon and be lulled to sleep by other chatty seagulls. My phobic stillness scared me. Long ago they had scared the seagulls too. That's when I had opened their cage and released them into the sea.

I never feel uglier than when I go to beauty salons. I realized this many times during my brother’s wedding. I found out, to my dismay, that nothing I possess naturally is good enough to meet established standards in beauty. My hair is too thick. My skin is not the right quality. My finger nails are flattened like a duck’s. Shades of plum don’t look good on me. And so on and so forth.

Fortunately, the ladies who attended on me had many beauty aides that could help me overcome my shortcomings. For example, was I amenable to paying for a small pouch of imported hair serum? Then the ladies could tame down my hair, and curl them in ringlets like little girls’. A honey and oatmeal wrap, costing Rs 2000, could invigorate my complexion and bring out the color of the henna tattoos on my hands. A French manicure could hide my deformed nails, and for Rs 1200 they would mix me a shade of lipstick that was not plum, but a faint plummy tinge that would go with the color of my sari.

Frankly, I wanted to get all the aides. But after meticulously calculating my budget, I decided to have only the hair serum. After paying over Rs 200, the lady mixed for me a blob of serum, .5 cm in diameter, in a bowl of water 4 cm in diameter and .5 cm deep.

I asked, “Isn’t this too little for my hair, which, as you said, is very thick?”

“Its imported.” said the lady, “A little will go a long way, you’ll see.”

I gave in, and a half hour later I was standing outside the salon with a head full of tight curls, waiting for the rain to recede. Sadly, I didn’t get a taxi immediately, and had to walk in the rain to get one. I came home with a head full of clumped greasy hair and a zit on my forehead. The imported serum couldn’t take care of the acid rain of Calcutta.

When I chose to read Geography at college, there were more reasons than one for my decision. Of course, it was true that I loved geography. I loved reading about rocks and clouds and the soil and the people of the world. I thought it was the purest of all disciplines, and that understanding geography would make me understand nature better, and make me a better person by giving me wisdom and compassion. The second reason was the fact that I had excellent teachers at school, and the third reason therefore was that I always did very well at the subject.

But there was another subtle, unspoken reason why I chose Geography; I wanted to travel. I knew that as part of the curricula, geography students had to go on at least one long trek in each of their three years at college. I also knew that these treks were almost always to secluded places where tourists would not travel. After traveling on a vacation only once during the seventeen years of my life, I was impatient to travel, anywhere, and with however much roughing it took.

For we hardly ever traveled as a family. It was curious, because the Bengali is usually an inveterate traveler. Father believed in the philosophy of manas bhraman (literally, traveling in the mind; metaphorically similar to an armchair traveler), and had a fanatical aversion to disturbing his equilibrium at home; his reading glasses beside his pillow and his glass of milk and his weekend game of soccer. Also, he was obsessively hygienic, and reduced to jitters every time we traveled 50 kilometers to go to our uncle’s house.

"Taken the boiled water?"

"Yes."

"Boiled eggs?"

"Yes."

"Peanuts?"

"Yes, yes."

"Don’t eat anything on the train but boiled eggs and peanuts."

Needless to say, we never ate the boiled eggs and peanuts. They traveled unharmed in their shells to our uncle’s house, where they were roundly made fun of by our cousins.

So I joined my new workplace. Rather, I rejoined my old workplace after a gap of two years, of course in a new role. I’ve been here a week now, and allocated my two projects. The work is interesting and the team is great to work with. It feels nice to be back, but sometimes it can get a little overwhelming too. There are too many people from the past, too many memories, too many old jokes and secrets. On the other hand, there are also many changes to get used to. First, everyone expects to see the old me. They are shocked to see that I have put on weight, grown my hair long, and generally tamed down. I, in return, am surprised to see the change in my old friends. The people who were single two years ago are now married. The people who were just married then, have children now. From worrying about which pub to visit in the evening after work, they now worry about which car their wives will prefer, and which school will be good for the baby. We are all a little overweight. Many of us need reading glasses. It is very lifelike. I think I will enjoy working here.

My four-month break from work was wonderful. It gave me the much-needed time to wind down, recuperate, read, and most importantly, think and reflect.

Today I tried to top up the beanbag and was so nauseated that I had to quickly zip it up and go lie

down. As the room swung around and the light dimmed and greyed and I drowned in the grey light, blacked out, and reentered the grey, I remembered the feeling from long gone, the feeling of nausea and confusion that I experience whenever I see a writhing mass of wet circles packed tightly together.

 

As a child, I almost puked every time my mother cut open a ripe papaya. The black, slimy, spongy mass of seeds that stuck to each other and gently jumped up and down as if in response to some invisible polar force were the main reason why I would never eat a piece of ripe papaya until it was shoved down my throat. Similar was the case with fish roe, which made a regular appearance in the kitchen on weekends. An accidental peep at the raw lattice of fish roe nauseated me, and even the tempting smell while cooking and after could not make me take a look at it again.

 

My mother, who has a good knowledge of ailments and diagnosis and traditional herbal remedies, at once put my condition down to “a bad liver”. As a remedy she gave me the juice of the dandelion in an old iron spoon, with some sugar mashed in it. (Mother believes that sugar is the magic ingredient that makes everything palatable, indeed, edible, for children.) The taste of that alkaline gummy juice, with the faint blood like perfume from the iron, lingers in my mind.

 

Whether it is from the dandelion gum, or from the numerous other herbs, flowers, roots, and seeds we were forced to consume while growing up, my liver is in fantastic condition (certified by the doctor), and I haven’t had such a fit for years until today, when I saw the writing mass of styrofoam globules inside the beanbag.

I don't know what it is that turns me off. It could be the writhing motion or the slippery consistency. It could be the vulgar abundance of it all. And I can’t explain very well how I feel when I see a mass of wet circles. It is akin to, but much stronger than, the nauseating feeling you have when you hear a hard chalk scratching a blackboard, or when you taste dishwasher liquid in the mouth.

Show us the one thing that unfailingly makes you smile, no matter what.  (Submitted by Sourire)

One of the many things that make me smile, no matter what, has to be Indian English. The corruptions in the language are either the result of a literal translation from the native Indian language, or of mispronunciation/ mishearing. I recently read a book called The Calcutta Cookbook, which reproduced this priceless menu from the days of the East India Company, as recorded by a Bengali cook on the payroll of a memsahib. I quote:
 

• Salary Soup
• Fis
• Heels Fis Fry
• Madish
• Russel Pups.................................................................... (LOL!)
  
• Wormsil Mole
• Joint
• Rost Bastard.................................................................... (ROTFL!)
• Puddin
• Toast Anchovy
• Poshteg
• Billimunj
• Ispunj Roli

We have been able to decipher most of Domingo’s (the cook’s) esoteric menu except for Russel Pups- dogs were not eaten. Someone suggested Brussels sprouts. So be it.
 

For those who are still left guessing here is a translation- celery soup, fish, hilsa (shad) fish fry, main dish, vermicelli mould, joint, roast bustard,pudding, anchovy toast, poached egg, blancmange, sponge roll.

Book: Show us a book that made you laugh out loud. (Submitted by Red Pen.)

I have lost count of how many times I have read this book. I can narrate entire passages from it from memory. I sometimes think it has affected the way I think. It has definitely affected the way I write.

Here is an excerpt from the first chapter of the book...

"It is a most extraordinary thing, but I never read a patent medicine advertisement without being impelled to the conclusion that I am suffering from the particular disease therein dealt with in its most virulent form.  The diagnosis seems in every case to correspond exactly with all the sensations that I have ever felt.

I remember going to the British Museum one day to read up the treatment for some slight ailment of which I had a touch - hay fever, I fancy it was.  I got down the book, and read all I came to read; and then, in an unthinking moment, I idly turned the leaves, and began to indolently study diseases, generally.  I forget which was the first distemper I plunged into - some fearful, devastating scourge, I know - and, before I had glanced half down the list of "premonitory symptoms," it was borne in upon me that I had fairly got it. I sat for awhile, frozen with horror; and then, in the listlessness of despair, I again turned over the pages.  I came to typhoid fever - read the symptoms - discovered that I had typhoid fever, must have had it for months without knowing it - wondered what else I had got; turned up St.Vitus's Dance - found, as I expected, that I had that too, - began to get interested in my case, and determined to sift it to the bottom, and so started alphabetically - read up ague, and learnt that I was sickening for it, and that the acute stage would commence in about another fortnight.  Bright's disease, I was relieved to find, I had only in a modified form, and, so far as that was concerned, I might live for years. Cholera I had, with severe  complications; and diphtheria I seemed to have been born with.  I plodded conscientiously through the twenty-six letters, and the only malady I could conclude I had not got was housemaid's knee.
 

I felt rather hurt about this at first; it seemed somehow to be a sort of slight.  Why hadn't I got housemaid's knee?  Why this invidious reservation? After a while, however, less grasping feelings prevailed.  I reflected that I had every other known malady in the pharmacology, and I grew less selfish, and determined to do without housemaid's knee.  Gout, in its most malignant stage, it would appear, had seized me without my being aware of it; and zymosis I had evidently been suffering with from boyhood.  There were no more diseases after zymosis, so I concluded there was nothing else the matter with me.
 

I sat and pondered.  I thought what an interesting case I must be from a medical point of view, what an acquisition I should be to a class! Students would have no need to "walk the hospitals," if they had me.  I was a hospital in myself.  All they need do would be to walk round me, and, after that, take their diploma."

The potato is the world’s most extensively grown tuber. It originated in southern Peru and was grown by the Incas. Its cultivation spread through the Americas and Europe between 1400- 1500. In India, sweet red potato is a native plant, but the Europeans introduced the potato (aloo) as we know it today.
 

Starch is the main constituent nutrient in the potato. Potatoes also contain potassium, magnesium, phosphorous, zinc and iron. Vitamin B is present as thiamin, riboflavin, niacin and folates. Vitamin A is present as carotinoids. The skin of the potato contains fiber. New/ baby potatoes, in addition, contain traces of selenium. Human beings need selenium- in extremely small quantities- for efficient functioning of the thyroid. Green spots on the potato show that it contains excessive selenium, and is best avoided.
 

The potato is the proverbial blank canvas. You can eat it steamed, broiled, roasted, fried, baked or stewed. You can make either sweet dishes out of it, or savory ones. You can eat it as a main dish, side dish, or even as a snack. Depending on the spices you use, you can make an American, European, African, Indian, or a Nordic or Latin American dish out of the potato.
 

Take five boiled potatoes. Skin them. Dice into one inch square pieces. Take a wok. Pour some vegetable oil in it. When the oil smokes, reduce heat, and put some mustard seeds, cumin seeds and dried red chilies in the oil. Let them splutter and release tangy aroma. Then tumble all the potato pieces into the wok. Toss and turn the potatoes to coat them well. Throw in some salt, red chilly powder, and a pinch of turmeric powder. Toss and turn and coat potatoes. Put a lid on and let cook for five to eight minutes. Open lid. Turn potatoes again. Taste for seasoning and adjust. Dilute half teaspoon (or more, if you like the smell) of asafetida in two teaspoons of water, and pour into the potatoes. Turn once more. Close lid and cook for a little while. Take off flame. Take off lid to cool. Just before you eat, squeeze a little lemon juice and sprinkle chopped cilantro leaves.
 

Apart from being a tasty side dish/ snack, this is an easy dish to teach your wife if she is 30, and doesn’t yet know how to cook.
 

If you have not thrown out the boiled potato peels, you can make another tasty snack with them. Make a thick paste of flour/ rice flour, poppy seeds, chilly powder, salt, and a little pinch of turmeric powder, just for the color. Heat a lot of oil in a deep frying pan. Dip and coat the potato peels in the paste, and deep fry them till crunchy. Drain on paper napkins. Use as snack with Indian tea.

The doctor has asked me to stop eating potatoes. He might as well have asked me to stop eating.