Posts

Cooking as an Art Form!

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A certain someone (who shall not be named) thinks that the elaborate mise-en-place that I do for every meal is a waste of time - she believes that since all of it will inevitably end up in our tummy, we should not waste time seeking culinary perfection like I do. "Eye roll, eye roll. The blasphemy." I know, right! My friends, who have a background in culinary arts, are already bleeding from their eyes and ears while reading this. You see, most people who join hotel management have a fascination for cooking. Whether they later pursue it as a career or not is irrelevant, because once you join culinary arts training and learn the basics, you can't help falling in love with the process. A lot of young adults who haven't had the same inclination might not get it but the art of cooking is sacred and people like me thrive in the glory of a well-cooked meal. I admit there were parts of cooking I wasn't a big fan of - like doing the dishes, cleaning up the kitchen platform...

Lunch Decisions - Egg & Chicken Hakka Noodles

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Every day, I struggle to bring variety to lunch. I have practiced and perfected certain recipes like moong dal khichdi, chicken masala, gizzards curry, etc. But repetition is never good. So every three days or so, I try to whip up something different - I don't mean a new recipe invention here, just some recipe which is not my regular go-to. Of course, I have to take a look at what ingredients I have on hand. Sometimes, you have a great idea but not enough of the ingredients needed. Lately, I have managed to stock up on most dry ingredients whereas, for vegetables and perishables, I prefer to buy them in small quantities so that they don't go bad by the time I circle around to them.  I have been a picky eater for as long as I can remember. So my usual selection of vegetables are carrots, beans, peas, bitter-gourd (something I developed a taste for, a little late in life), and the occasional cauliflower and cabbage. Most of the days, I mix it up with eggs or chicken. My staple gr...

Mango, Jackfruit, Guava & Pigeons!

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Every now and then, I have moments where thinking about the present gets overwhelming and I resort to thinking about the past. And since the last several years of my life haven't been particularly pleasant, my mind wanders off to my childhood. If you have followed my blogs, you must have read the bits I have written about certain incidents from my childhood - be it the memories of having sweets with my father, triggered by "balushahi", or the various fragrances of trees and shrubs which take me back to a certain time in my life. While most of the time, I think about certain incidents that highlight my childhood, if I try to remember my childhood in general, I keep landing on visions of the backyard gardens of the several houses I have lived in.  The earliest one I remember was behind this house in Sector 31, Chandigarh. I can barely remember the house itself - it was one of those generic air force quarters, maroon bricks and a grey door and a mix of wall and barbed wires ...

The Faces We Wear

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I have been writing a book. It will be published in a few weeks, hopefully. It is about a guy who pretends to be other people. Won’t give away more than that - spoilers can’t be good for business. You must read it when it comes out - I will share the details in this space. Anyway, as I was writing it, I had several crises of faith - Will it be a good read? Would anyone buy this? This is boring. Am I writing this character right? And in all this, I looked closely at myself, to draw inspiration for the imposter I was writing about. For as long as I can remember, I have had trouble understanding myself as a person. Often I have felt like an empty vessel, driven by the faces I wear.  Let me clarify - my life hasn’t been a very happy one so far. There were several deaths, abandonment, and separations that marred my journey, and not being the bravest person I know, I used denial to cope with these situations. If I didn’t believe these things were real, they wouldn’t affect me, right? I t...

A Cold Evening at Cyber Hub

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Any action an individual undertakes is usually the result of a series of decisions – a decision tree if you will. It has always fascinated me, this process. I have often analyzed how I come to any decision so as to write my characters better. But what’s really intriguing is how two individuals’ decision trees intersect for them to cross paths, the intricacy of it all – two people making decisions after decisions that bring them to the same place at the same time and interact. The butterfly effect suggests that the smallest of variance in any of these individual’s decisions would send them in two different directions, thus making the intertwining of their fates almost impossible. Let’s take the example of two absolute strangers who met at Cyber Hub one winter evening. They dined at Mamagotos two tables away from where I sat and discussed their association so far. Being alone, having stood up by a date, I had nothing interesting to do. So I decided to eavesdrop. As I listened to the two,...

Testing the Mettle of Love!

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For all the fans of romance out there, I am back with the fifth installment of the Angela & Eric saga. We go beyond the mushy and romantic in this one - into one of those testing moments that pave way for the time to come. For people who just landed on this page, here's the link to Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 & Part 4 . Go play catch up and come back to read this one. I know romance sells. I know that when you write romance, you write about the happy stuff, the relationship milestones, the first kiss, the first time they make love, the confession of undying love. Yet, in real life, the fights a couple has defines the mettle of their relationship. To reach the point in time that Eric and Angela are at, they had to navigate several serious fights which tested their intentions and eventually made them realize what they meant to each other. Angela and Eric loved to talk to each other. They could just sit there discussing this and that – their work lives, their life experiences, t...

Stories of Foxes Marrying Wolves...

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Towards the end of her life, my grandmother was barely the person I once knew. Years of suffering and pain, having lost her oldest son, followed by her husband and then her last son had left her a hollow shell of the person she was when I was five or six, when times were happier. So many things plagued her in the last of her days – she often asked herself why God had let her live for so long, while all her loved ones succumbed before her eyes. She not only had her own sorrow, but she had to live through the sorrows and pain of all her loved ones. Dementia started setting in towards the end and she barely recognized me the last time we met and maybe I was relieved. She deserved the much deserved detachment from her reality. You see when I look back at my folks and the people that they were, I often judge my grandmother  with the harshest set of ideals. She was deeply flawed, as compared to my grandfather or my father and uncle. She had a temper. The caste based biases were deeply in...