Does hunger know nation, religion or clothes?

I came across a really very eye opening article in readers digest a few days back. ( yes lady of leisure reads that and national geographic throughout the day).

 I or rather many of us thought a hungry person is that someone who is grubby, need and helplessness reflecting in his eyes, shabby clothes etc. but is hunger really that? Yes it is in my country. Whose poverty the developed countries have made famous in their documentaries and books. Yes At our place it is obvious. But perceptions can be misleading. Of what we think is needy and what is really needy.

 Apparently in this article a lady quoted her heartfelt opinions on hunger. In developed countries, hunger takes different guises. Car every one has. Wearable clothes every one has. But do they have food? But do they have really enough to feed them selves? The lady in article spoke of her embarrassment of visiting a food bank. Of her desperation of her children growing up so soon. It's a,amazing how introspective can children be.

Yes hunger is there, in some cases its naked and known in some places its "cache ". What pick we will take?  This story surely set my thinking wheels in action.

Some short films that became my all time favorite

As I type wildly away on my iPad with tutti fruity cake smell wafting from my oven,getting irritated at the keypad posing in middle..because of which I cannot see an ounce and need to do spell check later ( an eeks), I think of few all time favorite movies.

I love "shispens " or suspense to the uninitiated. And I love those movies that take care of this genre so well. Not karmchand style but more like layers and layers and slowly tying loose ends in the end making the movie a true treat to watch. Few recent movies like wazir and drishyam held my interest till the end, and now I watch them just to see awesome performances of Ajay Devgan and Tabu in Drishyam and big B in wazir.

Some other movies, of course the 12-20 minute intrigueor 20 minute rassi bomb as I would like to call them. These three movies simply held me spellbound and totally flummoxed in the end.

As you very well know my current  obsession with short films. Out of them two were of same actress and my all time favorite and a third one of known faces and unknown names.

The first one was called "kriti " directed by Shirish kunder (a flop director. Who remembers tees maar khan...me me me). But the actors were good or rather excellent. My favorites Radhika Apte and Manoj bajpai. The movie starts in usual pace. With Manoj bajpai playing the role of a person undergoing psychiatric treatment under Dr Mehek, a psychiatrist and also who is his childhood friend. Manoj's character makes imaginary girlfriends against which Dr Mehek warns him. They finally use extreme measures to get rid of his imaginary friend ( read murder) . The story proceeds ahead and with a sudden jerk we understand that...its Dr.Mehek who is imaginary..( sorry I can never keep "shispens ".

The second movie also has Radhika Apte in a sultry, sexy avtar in a silky white negligee and her husband is played by one of legendary actors of Bengali film industry called Soumitra chatterjee who is shown as sculptor and a suspect for disappearances of many people. We see that there are miniatures of those people on his showcase and one newly made falls down. As he is investigating the case, asking questions to the sculptor, he touches a stone which has some history. The next we see him in an embrace . Meanwhile we recover from it, we realize that all that was farce and he has also turned a minature like others.

The third movie has no suspense. A simple but sensitively made movie called "the afterglow".  The woman , a Parsi has lost her husband, and slowly comes in terms with it, how she does one act of defiance, on her husband's 10th day or "dusmoo" caring a damn for the guests who insist that she follow the orthodox Parsi traditions. It also shows a beautiful relationship between a middle aged Parsi couple, one of them ailing. Small scenes of past that flit in and out, seamlessly in the present. What I found the best was the last scene, where the widow sits wearily on the armchair, listening to her husband's favourite music, seeing the lighted diya, which is the embodiment of her husband's spirit, finally ready to let go. The diya slowly goes off.
Awesome performances by lead pair, Anahaita Uberoi and Sohrab ardeshir as Meher and Minocher respectively. Truly must see.

Coming up next ( ha ha in the filmy style) the library.

Truly awesome from me to you aka "kimi ni todoke "

My brain works hard or shall I say weird?? Not hard exactly.. I do go for hedonism 😜As in excesses. And being a lady of leisure gives me ample opportunity to do just that. It's like books... Books.... Books... Of any and every topic but mostly food. Then one day my brain says enough.. N then for some days books become absolutely nauseating.. Then I go for songs, movies ( mostly old hrishikesh mukherjee's) and then... patatipatata as in blah blah blah..

I came  across thi s movie just by an accident.. I dunno how but in my YouTube playlist of balam pichkari and batameez  dil.. A movie came called diary of an ugly.. A phillipean movie with subtitles and what next I started seeing it.. A typical teen love story.. It was good but not wow.. Though I liked the feisty actress...now you know on YouTube, once you see one ..all related comes up.. And so I met this movie.

From me to you with English subtitles... Sounds good, I thought as I started my stepper in the gym. I was still seeing the movie without starting songs as I normally do if I get tired of syrupy movie. A movie becomes my favorite or one of the favorites only if I watch it thrice, without using drag button and I still feel like watching the movie again and again.

Of course, the movie is typical high school romance with girl meets boy and romance blossoms. Buy some things were good. First and foremost, there was no chummachatti as is there in normal teen movies, especially those typically influenced by west.  The story flows between a not so popular loner (not by choice) girl and a very popular boy. How the girl finds love and friendship in course of the year. The girl Sawako aka sadako as she is called because of her real scary hairstyle  and manners. The boy meets her for the first time near a cherry blossom tree and how in due course, the cherry blossom tree plays a mute but important role in the film. Is the story.

Of course  this movie is for those who enjoy a good movie, subtitles or not. Leave aside the fact that the lead actor of the film Miura Haruma is a wow, in the Tim, with his sudden shy smiles, his intense expressions. His emoting, is too good. I liked this movie...and would thoroughly recommendations d.

Ps: I remembered, I was and still am in short film phase and a short film called " the library" led me finally to diary of an ugly and finally this movie. The short film is good too.. But that requires another blog.

Songs that are my all time favourites

Always a rotdu.. Not exactly but this is one the songs aka ghazal that actually touched my heart and turning it real inside out.

Pain, regrets,hurt in this song which actually make you hallucinate that it is sung by late Jagjit Singh.

I remember that I had seen these movie posters everywhere ( the route my school  office bus used to go) a group of oldies looking or rather pretending young, with a real funny raghuvir yadav avtar and farookh sheikh and sarika.. Thinking that this is one of the same old story theme I didn't think of them vie much until one day it came on television and me the lady of leisure saw it. Awesome movie and a theme that actually touched my heart. An aged couple coming in terms of their only son's premature death and the other oldies helping them to achieve it. 

The movie was called "club 60" and truly must watch. What also attracted me were songs. All of them are truly good but one of these songs stayed with me for a real long time. It was this one. A real ouch one, this song made me remember my one of the favorites, late Jagjit Singh and his ghazals. The song is sung by Raju Singh.The music hauntingly beautiful and song rises to the occasion in the movie ( no.. I am not narrating the movie story, please check wiki for it or better watch the movie). But for now, the lyrics:

Rooh mein faasale nari hote

Rooh mein faasale nari hote

kaash hum yum mile nahi hote

Kaash hum yum mile nahi hote

Ek saaya no saath jo deta

Ho ..Ek saaya na saath jo deta

Do kadam bhi chale nahi hote

Do kadam bhi chale nahi hote

Kaash hum yum mile nahi hote

Rooh mein faasale nahi hote...

Zoro Jabara se na haasil kar

Zoro Jabara se na haasil kar

Zoro Jabara se na haasil kar

Dil to shahi

Dil to shahi Kille nahi hote

Dil to shahi Kille nahi hote

Dil to shahi Kille nahi hote

Kaash hum tum mile nahi hote

Rooh mein faasale nahi hote.

Yuh achanak mile hum tum

Yuh achanak mile hum tum

Yuh achanak mile hum tum

Roz to jaljale nahi hote

Roz to jaljale nahi hote

Kaash hum tum mile nahi hote

Kaash hum tum mile nahi hote

Rooh mein faasale nahi hote.

Truly good, isn't it??

Tale of a tattoo

My vacation long gone. Now life is more on roller skates.. Weekends included.

Had been to an amazing friend yesterday. He recently got married and has a very soft spoken cute wife. When my friend, me the chatterbox and my better (???) half meet, it's like talking and laughing. Her silence was speaking, but yesterday she made a genuine effort to talk and I really liked her. My friend's parents were on visit and we had gone to meet them.
Somehow his mom's commanding personality kept her on mute after a while. And then I saw that tattoo, faded one on her neck. I was impressed. For those of who know me very well, know my love tattoo and my wish to have one in my life.
"Ohh.. You have tattoo.." I said. She smiled" did it pain a lot?" I asked, glad to find an awesome topic to talk on. But before she could talk, her mother in law pitched in. " ohh.. We don't like it and have told her to get it removed. Does it look good. Now see, even you saw it.. It's so noticeable.." " but I like". I said. it" then why didn't you get it done" " because why husband didn't agree yet" suddenly some other topic came up and the tattoo taboo topic was promptly forgotten. But I detected a sadness in her silence. Of letting go something you like since the new I laws don't like it. Why? I wondered. Why there is no total acceptance. Of wish to change the moment the person is legally yours to make changes.

Somehow our decision to visit them was annoying as well since we got half of sweets back since the parents have diabetes.. Any guesses who gave half of our gift as return gift???

10 years a rebirth and still kicking

i started this blog 10 years back. Unlike many bloggers or shall I say professionals, I never noted the date. Neither did I expect that I will last this long. I don't know anyone except me who reads the posts as well. I preferred this blog to be away from prying eyes, accessible to only those interested. Maybe that's the reason I kept it b/w. No adornment. This blog reflected me. Became a box of memories. Of things I liked, of things that affected me, of my favorites and pet peeves as well. It felt as if I had 10 year monologue with self. But I liked it. I drifted a lot in between but after a while I came back and that gap didn't widen, only posts of that year were less. I did feel a lot but somethings are beyond putting on paper. Paper puts them in perspective, in b/w, what I felt was something like abyss, a void, something waiting to get out... But one fine day, I managed to scramble back. Blog heard my technicolor mind without being judge mental. It just heard me.

I am happy to have you around. 

The carpenter's apprentice

After a low lying table my confidence developed. Nothing like nari Shakti zindabad. Nah..that sounds so melodramatic and filmy that I had to put it. Imagine the medusa like me wearing a khadi Saree and saying that.. Wow..my imagination surely runs wild. But honestly it was more to avoid the embarrassment of bringing a beautiful sturdy chair with worn out seat.

This was in my agenda for past one year but me and my plans.. They take ages to form and more ages to execute. My brain somehow goes in hibernation. And then one fine day, just like an electric jolt I wake up and start scrubbing,.. I mean cooking.. Ohhhh.. I mean working. And since I know mr pea aka my brain so well, I try to make the most of the temporary chota recharge that mr pea has and finish off as much as I can. This includes long pending tasks, creative stuff like coloring, painting, cleaning, reading, because it's like kal ho na ho for me... And look my digression went upto 8 lines of mindless yapping. 

Anyways. So I was charged. I took 1 day to search for the cloth. I had unhemmed ( not sure if such word exists but hemming.. Unhemming what say??) a pillow cover. Pillow covers in US are huge, just like many other things. We will feel at times that we stay in doll houses with micro foods. So I had taken one such spare cover( or so I thought) which was closer to the sofa shade (read black) , white background and nicely blue black chequered. I found this cloth ( no longer a cover I think) and measured the seat. It took exactly half of the cloth for the seat. I cut it and then kicked my self. Drat.. Wasted a good pillow cover and now it could not be used elsewhere. I could not tuck the cut cloth much in. The sturdy metal chair had screws in metal frame and I could not remove them without help of machine and past experience told me that I may not get any help now. The maintenance guys will run away the moment they see me approaching their office. So I wondered and wondered and I remembered. Ta-da.. Batti jali.. Idea wali. I had got a small (luckily) container of carpenter's glue ( wow.. We have only fevicol, the multipurpose adhesive) that I had got for...god knows what and was sitting in my kitchen idly. I upturned the chair and applied the glue along the border of the chair. As close as possible to boundary. Next I started sticking and folding the fabric along the border, tucking and keeping in place with few pins( that my better (?) half got complimtary with new shirt he had purchased few days back ) finally the whole fabric was tucked and stuck nicely to the chair. A few hours later, I could remove the pins without fabric coming off with it and voila........one .. No two sturdy threadbare chairs got a second life... 

And so two poor chairs got new clothes or shall I say new lease of life..Even if that would be for sometime, before pilla does their vastraharan.

To cut the long story short, I am seriously thinking of being a carpenter's apprentice or maybe not so ambitious but a hobby course in reupholstering

Some movies do leave a mark

My better (?) half with a through intent to finish his one week of leaves before April 2016 managed to stay last whole week at home. He had a lot of backlog.. Of movies I mean... I manage to see most on ff mode as soon as they are on einthusan. The main reason for that being, when movie is finally put on by my better (?) half, I can see it without much concentration or not see it at all and concentrate on more basic issues like cooking, cleaning.. Giving food to the lazy "halvai" warming the sofa and going through never ending chains of movies. But sometimes time passes so much that I forget what the movie was all about. One such movie was dum laga ke haisha.
A fat bride. A thin groom. Educated wife, not that educated groom. In laws, and not sweet sweet life. The reasons for marrying different. But in the end acceptance. Not when the girl is thin and has deepika style makeover or groom who went on to study in Oxford. But of life in general. Of each other. And just a background of a race in which the boy needs to carry his wife on his back and run to finishing line. Needless to say. Fat girl, thin boy win. Not stellar performances but nice. Just real. And thankfully not usual of fat girl losing weight.
I liked it for varied reasons. I don't know anywhere else but in India at least, there is a discrimination( ouch that sounds heavy and serious) or rather a style of wearing designer glasses of various colors. And we tend to see things that way. Even if we say beauty is temporary, still there is fair and lovely n handsome as well. Why is skin color that important. Why aren't we impressed by intelligence and knowledge that the person has. Or fat vs thin. Is being aesthetically beautiful that important... Somewhere this movie tugged all those strings .. And main listening to kumar sanu after such a long time.

Next day "Aligarh". I didn't know such movie existed. But a movie based on real life events. On homosexuality. A taboo issue maybe. But wonderfully made. No melodrama. No typecasting gay people. Court scenes shown but not the usual 15 minute fame performance by a lawyer giving his speech. They could have exploited ashish vidyarthi''s acting prowess that way. But thankfully no. Manoj bajpai is seen snoozing in the court. A real scenario. This was the movie which I almost didn't watch. And I am happy that I did.

My current wish: more time. My 3 national geographic, 1 readers digest and 5 books, 2 coloring books are waiting for me. I guess with India vacation fast approaching... Maybe... Cross fingers...

My new obsession or new found love 'fattoush'

On an impulse I took small packet of "stacy's". For those who don't kno, stacy's is a brand that specializes in simply naked oven baked pita chips . Nicely oven baked, just a kiss of sea salt.

Recently I am reading a lot of David lebovitz. I like the way he writes. There is just the right mix of humor and simplicity. I can just visualize in his itsy bitsy Paris kitchen ( which is I believe barely well equipped for a chef like him) writing and recounting his adventures. On one of his posts, he wrote about caponata. I tried one without sardines( a die hard vegetarian at work) and its dressing up my sandwiches. And then I came across fattoush. I still don't have sumac :( but I managed.

I like my vegetables finely chopped. So in went finely chopping onion, tomatoes, olives, bunch radishes ( delicate taste than our usual mooli and definitely much less air polluting... Definitely those have  experience will understand), mix greens. A nice dusting of fat free feta (maybe not authentic but it's me who is eating so who cares), salt and pepper , a squeeze of lemon and a good topping of crushed Lebanese papdi I mean pita chips. ( basil and thyme not found easily in my Indian kitchen, maybe next time). The result maybe not authentic but tasty. Hey can't I try this with khakra next time and whole lot of Indian masalas. Now I have Lebanese version of bhel under my sleeve, that is if I have spared pita chips from aimless munching.

A late morning, a plank, some leg screws, an electric drill, a determination and voila.. A low table ready

I guess now a days I am going Karan Johar's style in naming my posts.. But I don't know if my title is melodramatic (sheeeesh..Utpal Dutt style) or one with intrigue. Well I don't want to be either. Since this experiment was more of fulfilling and more euphoric for me.

I am not FCP ( female chauvinistic pig..I don't know what female pig is called but this is me figurative...and I am trimmer than average female pig...god I am digressing again). But something ticked in my brain and I decided to take matter in my own hands.

It happened so that ( direct translation of his ye ki...) we had a big plank, nicely fade black painted. It was supported by a rickety meal on wheels I mean table on wheels which had obviously seen better days. So one fine day, I decided to throw the crap but definitely retain the plank. Since our house is entirely carpeted, a strategically placed plank helps to become a road for my pilla's cars or to check our body weights discretely on the automatic weighing machine which gives faulty readings ( few grams) if used on carpet.
 One fine day my better(?) half had enough of creaky second hand sofa, which for some months, God knows why he had kept in bedroom. We were trying to manoveur the bulky sofa through the narrow aisle ( I don't know or want to know how he got it in in the first place) . The legs were acting as nice hindrance to our push and pull attempts. Then I tried and it worked. The legs were ones I have could be unscrewed and screwed back. Promptly I removed them and our push pull attempts were generously rewarded with sofa eventually finding its way to the trash. " throw these away as well... How are we going to us them". I asked my better (?) half. " dunno but keep them away from S as of now" he said pointing to our over curious pilla, who was slowly moving in their direction, hiding from us.

The plank was slowly becoming an eyesore for me since I couldn't vaccum the place. My pilla was also wanting some place to play with his cars. He played on glass tv stand ( ekes...cozy it made a bad screeching sound) or dining table ( removing the only hurdle, table cloth.. Revealing pick I mean burn marks from Ganesh chaturthi dhoopam ) and even if we lived in dire states I didn't want whole world to know of it who decided to pop up suddenly befor I got to dressing dining table. I didn't feel like throwing plank ( blame it on my frugal genes) and then it struck to me...why not attach the sofa legs to it..."idea chi kalpana".i thought. But only one problem. The legs had screws and the minuscule holes that the plank had...remanants of earlier glorious days as table it served, couldn't fit the leg screws. I didn't want to buy 20$ worth legs for a plank who may not see few more months. So I decided to make do with what I had. Now I needed a drill.

"I don't want to buy drill only for this task and I dunno if we get rentals. I just need it for 5 minutes". I said to my gym buddies. Even they agreed to it.this niggling stayed with me as I came home, took a hot shower and started with sambhar preparation. It was Thursday and cabbage thoran and sambhar day. As I smelled frying onion, it struck to me. " why don't I take it from the office. They surely must be having one". But unfortunately they didn't help. " it's not our property and so we can't do anything." The beautiful belle with whom I share real good rapport told me. The other lady is just too obnoxious to bear. This belle had helped me in past when we had AC problems in gym by providing her own office table fan. Now my brain started ticking again. " let's try by unofficially asking the maintenance fellow." Somehow I didn't have guts and when I did, I wondered why I didn't ask the afroamerican before. " sure you can. But return it soon". I now waited for my better (?) half so that he could drill holes. Lazily he went but it was already 5.00 pm. Time to close workshop. " come tomorrow". The fellow said. "I am not going there again. Tomorrow at lunch time, you go and get it. I will drill holes. " I felt something doing a clink and crash. Just a minute be.. That was my dream and idea. But I thought. " try Marne mein kya harz hai.." This slogan has always helped me.

Once I went just before lunch. 1/2 hour before better (?) came. No one answered the shop door. But Luck was on my side. Next I saw the maintenance caddy car. Taking a deep breath I went again. The sofa leg with me. " but you will need extra screw for these kinds of studs. If you just drill and try to fix, the plank may break". He said, almost wishing that I would nod and go back. But he was disappointed when I said " it's ok..what's harm in trying.. Till when is your lunch time." His lunch time was getting over in 15 minutes. " I will give it before your time gets over" I said to him. I could understand his reluctance. There was still 20 minutes till better (?) would come.  Something twinkled. " what's the harm in trying" I said to my self as I plugged the heavy drill in the socket.breathing deep and carefully holding my sweaty hands on the plank with my left hand, I started the drill. "Eeeeeeeeeer" it sounded. Tentatively I drilled one hole. I stopped after. The black plank showing tell a tale signs of sweat. Of tensed cold hands. But after completing second drilling, a small smile formed on my lips. The two more holes were done in jiffy . I now tried screwing the legs now. It was done in less than a minute. And as promised, I returned the drill with a handful of Lindt. I was happy today that I had them. "  I hope that you like chocolates. " I asked the fellow. He gave a shy and sheepish nod. Almost jumping like a Joey I came back home.  " did you get the drill?" My better (?) asked. When he saw the table he was flabbergasted. " surely someone helped you" he said disbelievingly. I nodded negative. And then he said something that became my ultimate compliment." Now I can give you such jobs. But more important was getting that drill" he smiled as He left post lunch office.
I smiled. I had found me. I was not dependent any more. And somehow the feeling was good. I was liking it. My next target was reupholstering. The two beautiful but threadbare steel chairs. But what I didn't know was this project was going to really make me scratch my head and solution was much easier than drilling.

The trees are laughing

They are enjoying the time when it's still not hot and sultry but pleasant. They have their lush green clothes to hide their straggly selves, their brownish gray nakedness. They look full and just so green. Their cape mushroomy or full cauliflower like. The sunlight is playing hide and seek, the flirty breeze  is tickling them voraciously.once in a while they wait as if wondering. And then they start laughing one after the other as if on cue. These are the trees in my lane and seriously having a gala time. The trees are laughing.

one more nice movie: drishyam

"they are showing drishyam on movies ok". My better(?) half said. It was 9.00 pm Saturday, I was in middle of making pesaruttu for my pilla and masala dosa + peanut chutney for him. " ok put it up." I said listlessly. I had seen this movie a bit too long ago, and so did he. This was after a mentally exerting driving session. I just wanted to curl up with a book or my iPad. Reading bongmom or David lebovitz. But fate would not have it. Loads of vessels, kitchen cleaning and my better (?) half's over enthusiastic attempts to make gits gulab jamun 😤 made me cancel my plans and sit feeding my pilla who seems to want to be fed when at home (😡). And so I sat in my vajrasan and started feeding  him. I seemed to have forgotten a lot of stuff in movies and slowly revelled at how the movie unfolded. I liked the main character's typical goa house with a garden. ( lucky guy). And goa in general( missing you really). What had me bowled was the pure malice of inspector Gaitonde's character and IG (Tabu..my favorite actress till date)'s stubbornness. She knows the suspect is one actually committed crime but can't point out as she has only circumstantial evidence and uses brute force ..her personal gain is that the alleged victim is her son. The sensitivity of her husband and sense of just especially after they come to know that their son had made a nasty clip of the suspect's daughter. We know that the suspect has committed crime. But we want him to be saved. In the end, just when we think that evidence linking to suspect is found, there is a twist.

I had seen the original of Mohanlal and ajay devgn didn't perhaps match his acting prowess but the storyline, the unfolding of story, the pace, all was amazing.

Once the movie was over, I immediately switched it off.. Next movie was Talvar ;)

About driving

"I can't do it...I am scared...main nail kar paungi " were the first words I uttered when I started the car. We had just dropped my pilla at his activity and nearby my better (?) half decided to teach me driving. His tone raised ( as usual) and ever critical ( again as usual) he kept on instructing. "You are not at the right side of the road". " the moment you use accelerator or brake..you come on the middle of the road". " use brake now.." " use accelerator.." " you are on extreme right". Were the instructions that went on. My hands sweaty and scared each time a vehicle passed us by, I trudged on. One hour finally got over. This was just the start. But this time I will be patient. I have to master this one thing. It was not as easy as driving using a drill. But more like cooking. Gradually done. " I have not kept a target for you. You learn at your own speed." But not when my learners is getting over in July and we go for vacation in May mid. Let's see.. One thing at a time. I will try from my end... Let's see. Cross fingers🙈🙉🙊🤐

After all the pollen and blossoms, something called spring went and summer came.. With a bang

Bright sun light and cold outside. Perceptions can be misleading. This is what happens here every winter. And then summer came this year.. With a bang bang.. Or shall I say bang?? No spring.. Just sultry and sexy summer..two weeks back it was cold and suddenly you want to crank up AC.. Trees outside were bare.. Wondering if they should wear their green clothes or just bask in sun naked for a while and get tanned or maybe they were confused. But spring forgot to come and just sent her flowers and pollen and luscious new and delicate parrot green verdure...summer in here finally.. A month and 1/2 later we will be in a furnace called India.. The thought itself evokes chill.. I mean trickle of sweat down my spine;)

Welcome summer, the lady of leisure and her gym welcomes u😜

Another memoir: color dress

"Color dress tomorrow." the words itself would bring tickles, warm fuzzy feelings for me. Like all the schools in India, mine too had uniform. Being a convent school, we had fewer occasions to wear color dress and doll around maybe or is the situation in other schools as well , I don't know. But seeing the schools in US where children go all decked up in school. Where comparisons galore, brands , style and social alignment and conforming to group all depends on kind of clothes and shoes you wear. I will always prefer and run back to "color dress" or charter school for my pilla if we manage to stay here longer.

Somehow the sense of color dress fazed off eventually when we no longer had to wear uniform. But even now sometimes when I sit down and think, color dress evokes fond memories in me. Blame it on uniform system or the frugality and unavailability at that time, we had few dresses to go out in. The ones short or old were used at home. Maybe that is still ingrained and my pilla ( who does not understand much about fashion ) and me (old habits die hard) end up using the clothes till they are in no condition to hold us. Charity be damned. Coming to think of it, we wore color dress only 4 times a  day in school. Once for some feast ( remember I told you that I was in convent school) that came in month of June. Once of children's day, once for Christmas and on for the house feast. And of course birthday. Which a few privileged had during exams ( my sister and I) or during vacations, never wore.. Due to this and ever " bad hat baccha" phenomenon, we got shall I say, 2-3 dresses a year. Not that we minded it. Our tailor ( who was whining, perpetually late types) was our brand and fashion designer. Somehow less was more then. 

Maybe our generation has become more indulgent or maybe we have more means to an end.. We seem to be indulging our kids more and more. But aren't we making them shallow and fragile? Where they are measured and they measure a person solely on clothes?? My mind fails or maybe refuses to answer and my another self still revels in the memory of "color dress"

One more movie from all time watch: wazir

Saturday afternoon. 2 hour gap before my better(?) half turned virat kohli went for his afternoon kirkit ( read cricket)  match. Eating my head to watch some movie on einthusan. Wazir seemed like safe bet.

 Intrigue, shispens ( suspense) and quality acting as well as story. Zero glamour and songs which express situation emotion and not extras fluttering around.

 A dejected ATS officer. A desperate but determined handicapped father. A depressed and angry wife. A hard core and real villain who talks with his pure malicious smirk. Nice combination indeed.

A collage of love story , snapshots in a song ( wow...thanks for not wasting a lot of time) that ends tragically. A seemingly innocent entry of a disabled octogenarian chess player. A seemingly innocent friendship of two individuals, who have loved and lost everything precious. Entry of the villain and his role. Murder of one, vengeance of another. What seems so simple is definitely not that. An intricate web of deception , innocence is that which was camouflage to something more hidden, more calculated.

Each and every scene was linked to another, each dialogue used. Melodious songs and awesome performance by main characters .

For me, wazir can be watched, again and again... Just for sheer pleasure.

Of birthdays and birthday bashes

One of the things that I always wonder about are birthdays and when did the affair get just so complicated. Am I ancient or just forgot to keep track of the things? Same way as simple weddings gave way to extravaganza. A traditional wedding followed by lunch for near and dear ones in "pangat" followed by few times evening reception of vanilla ice cream or aerated drinks. When did life become complicated...

Maybe I am frugal, maybe I am environmentally conscious ( much to my better (?) half's chagrin) or maybe both. But I hate wasting money, energy and doing things only because other people do. But I am slowly learning to live with it... Excellent.. I digressed a bit too much.

So I was talking about birthdays. Where a birthday part meant calling few friends ( mostly from the building where we lived.. Rarely school friends) cake was got from monginis or at times from mervans (THE bakery in Andheri west where we stayed which sold many more goodies and cakes were just some of them.. But equally on higher price range.. Mainly because of quality of ingredients used) , potato wafers ( from transparent bag and definitely didn't know lays then), some home treat like a samosa, kachori or some such thing and a chocolate or two. Return gifts if any were maybe pencils or erasers or books. I remember only two return gifts I got in my attanedance in these parties and that were mr clean erasers ( does that brand even exist now?) I had 2 lemon design and yellow color transparent teeny weeny erasers and a book called "tales of hitopdesa". Concept of return gifts didn't exist then and more of calling whole family for dinner. Birthday party meant only kids, a snack plate, gift giving ( which had limited choices like books, coloring box, tiffin boxes, pencil cases etc) a game or two and back home before dinner.

School was simpler. My sister and I both hated our birthdays as the fell during unit tests. But rare occasion when they didn't, we like many others distributed sweets or hard boiled confectionary. Most common fare included parle chocolates (spherical, different colored and semi transperant wrapped) or ravalgaon  which had an additional covering of silver ( which made whistle type noise when held in front of mouth and air blown). A treat meant catburys eclairs or melody chocolates. One chocolate per person was unsaid rule. But if the giver and or family were generous enough that became two chocolates per person rule. Then the teachers were distributed chocolates. That was one of rare days when birthday person wore a color dress aka no uniform. The birthday person chose someone( generally her friend) to go around and give chocolates to the teachers.

Hmm... Look how far a simple birthday affair came. A mini event in itself. An attempt to fit in than to celebrate the event it self.

My morning memories

Today my better (?) half put on few bhajans. They evoked my childhood memories he said. This pulled me back in my childhood memories of vividhbharti. Like I say that some songs are vividhbharti songs, some programmes I heard were vividhbharti ones as well. 

My mother worked throughout my childhood and a bit to my adulthood. I turned 21 and she left her job. No, it was not because I became sensible or that I started earning and told her ab to aaram kar le. She got a fantastic VRS offer and even if she was sincere employee, the encyclopedia of banking and related work decided to quit. (Digressing never seems to leave me I think).

So my mother used to work. And for preparing lunches on time, a heavy breakfast and kid boxes, she had to get up at 5.15 am. A habit that still sticks to her. The radio used to start with her. Marathi bhajans started the day. Monday's was always shiva stuti. A bhajan I loved. But not found on YouTube. Other songs I don't recall but will remember if I hear them. Bhajans gave way to Sangeet sarita which started I guess by 7.00 am. It continued till dada (my dad) left for office. This programme contained several of old Hindi songs. Of aai-dada's time. By 7.35-40 am started sur Sargam where they told petit nuances of Indian classical music and a song which was based on it. By 7.45 am started triveni which had 3 songs sung by same singer or by same musician. My mother rested a bit at that time, solving crossword puzzle in lok satta. By 8.00 am started Marathi Bhajans. It was a cue for my mother to get up and get ready for office. She left by 8.15 am. After which upcoming movie song promos started. It was here that I heard "dil mein kuch hone laga" form movie "army" and " koi jaye to le aye" from "ghatak". Evenings started with Marathi and then Hindi songs. And when we had cable tv later in life. This programme slowly fizzled off. But morning routine continued till my mom left job. But tv slowly encroached on vividhbharti and now it's been ages since mom and I have heard it. But at times like today's morning, I remember it. Life was simpler then . No daily soaps to bash your head against.

New year after nearly a month ;)

life goes on. Just some days earlier my pilla came in this world and now he is already 4, bubbly precocious kid. Trials and tribulances. Adjusting to new a bit (?) dependent life in the US of A. Dejection , development and confidence in cooking skills. Throughly missing being useful and India, till it formed into dull ache which could be brought out when alone or late at night. Thinking, wondering, pondering.

Meeting old friend and enjoying with it (reading) and staring a yearly subscription of yet another old friend called readers digest.

Life goes on. I promise my self to be in this my space often. But not to be a cry baby but more discussing with my self of my life, my choices and my thoughts.

For now.. Happy new year bits from the heart and soul.. One more year and you are still there, alive and kicking.