The Making Of The Dosa!

Since the past few years, the masala dosa has been one of my most favourite dishes. When I married the GP, and became a part of a South Indian family, my dosa sensibilities were shocked. Dosa was no longer what arrived on a huge plate with sambhar, chutney and sometimes gun-powder, but something that was used to eat the curries with, something akin to my way of eating a roti. I did not take to that too well, I liked my dosa, with masala, the way I was used to it. And it was always so easy and cheap to find this delicious meal in India, and even in Sharjah. But things did not remain the same, once I got here. It is not that easy to find delicious dosa in this part of the world. And so finally, putting all my fears on hold, I actually decided to try making some on my own.

I ribbed the GP about his roots, and he tried his hand at a couple and did quite well, I must add. The masala, was the easy bit, it was the actual dosa that I really feared. But seems like, my fears were unfounded. I did pretty well, and the result was very very delicious. Here is the step by step representation of how it went.















My first attempt ever. I used to so so fear trying this dish, and I am so happy i finally did give it a try. One of my favourite foods, and now I can make it at home.

Some Reflections About WWII

I am reading this book, based during the World War 2, and it has led to a barrage of thoughts in my mind. I am not a person interested in History, Politics or wars, so all that I know about WW2 was what I learned in school. The reasons were obviously political, because there will never be a war, let alone, one that involves pretty much all of the world, unless and until there are strong political motivations. But that is not my point, it is something else that came to my mind, infact something that I think is a very positive aspect of the war.

Adolf Hitler(God knows how I hate that monstercreature), led the single largest atrocious genocide in human history. He tried, very strongly to pretty much eradicate the Jewish race from the face of the earth. Fortunately for humanity, he did not completely succeed. The horrors of tyranny in the concentration camps, are not hidden from the world today. The Diary Of Anne Frank, till date remains one of the most powerful books ever published, some have even said, that is the book they would want to take to the grave with them. However, my point is not that. It is the fact, that Hitler a Christian by religion, was waging a war against the Jews, and that could be all means be seen as one of the most religious wars of all times. What is extremely heartening though was to see, so so many other nations of the world, consisting of primarily Christian citizens, stand up in arms, against the misdeeds of Hitler, fight against him, and provide refuge to the Jews who managed to escape.

There were Christian people, across the world, who joined hands, to protect and fight for the Jews, against another Christian who was trying to kill them. There is no denying the war was not simply altruistic, but there were very many, selfish motives, power struggles, and more that resulted in the war. But we cannot turn our back on the fact that other Christian dominated countries, fought against a Christian(Hitler) oppressing the Jews, and they lent aid, and help to save and protect the Jewish victims. Isn't that what humanity is all about.

Been Long

Its been just so so long, that this space is seeming alien to me, as I type today. Just wanted to see, how it feels to type here. Sometimes, I cannot believe just how madly I loved this space, and would feel a day was wasted, if I did not look in here, and somehow, time, thoughts, willingness, nothing seem to bring me here of late. Not nice, I say. Why? Because I have made such such amazing friends from this space, that I would hate to let it go, and not nurture those wonderful relations.

So much that has happened in the past few weeks, and yet, I don't have the words to actually pen them down today. Just reeling from a sleepless night, last night, with the BB having high fever in the middle of the night, causing us to rush to the emergency room, spending the better part of the night there, and returning home, in the wee hours of the morning without a doctor having a look at the hot little boy of mine. Repeat drama from a few months back, if you ask me, just that the GP was around this time, to be part of it. The boy has not yet completely recovered, but the fever is under control, and that is about it.

Otherwise I feel terribly guilty about not brightening up my blog, working on it, with my heart and mind like I used too. I so so so, want to create a new header, a new look altogether maybe. But like so so so many things that I want to write about here, I don't know if and when the makeover actually will happen. Somehow I think my mind has become terribly dull, from the inactivity, or maybe its the gazillion fat cells I have piled on, over this long stretched out winters, packed indoors, the jaws always on overdrive. Its really disappointing being here now, after the immense hardwork I put in last year to get healthier, its downright depressing. Cold places are so so so not for me, I have just lost the ability to deal with low temperatures, and this being the BB's first one ever, he has been ill so so often, that I just huddle indoors with him all the more.

For a comeback, this is not really a cheerful post, but then this is what I have on my mind, and so I am just writing it out, instead of going on without posting. I hope I can get more regular again, because I do enjoy the mental stimulation of actually trying to string together my haphazard thoughts, and putting them down in the form of comprehensible sentences, though possibly semantically horrendous. So here, is a shout out to all my blog-world dosts, saying, 'I am still around!'.

Presenting... The Friends Of Kolkata!

As a child, growing up in Delhi, there were Diwali melas and fetes galore, each year. And though I rarely got to attend any, what I really missed about them, was being a part of it from the organising group, because I envied all the kids my age, who ran around selling the tickets to the event, or the raffle draw. In groups of two or three, running along from door to door, selling tickets, it just seemed like so so much fun. My want to do something like that is finally being fulfilled, and how! I have raffle tickets to sell, flyers to mail out, put up, invites to send, and am enjoying every bit of it. The best bit is, the entire event is a fund raiser for a charity called Friends of Kolkata.

I have been wanting to write and tell so much about this organisation, and more importantly the incredible group of people who have formed it. But let me first go on and tell you about the event that is being organised.

Its called the 'Bollywood Extravaganza', and its happening on the 12th of September. The place will be alive with electrifying performances of salsa and belly dancing. There will be mehendi/henna painting, food, raffle prizes(like crumpler bags, dance class vouchers from The Salsa Foundation, large prints of professional photographs, drink vouchers and lots more) and more. The best bit being, every penny, anyone puts in, goes to charity,

To support ten children in Kolkata, India, with
education,social work, housing and health care.

And anyone in Melbourne/Victoria, reading this, you just need to hop over to the website, and get yourself entry tickets, and then just drop in for an evening of fun and dancing. All details available on friendsofkolkata.org .

I have been associated with this group, very recently, and have been amazed by the people I have met. A small group of Australians, running a charity for kids in a far away land. These are not high-profile, rich people, or the ones, who just write out fat cheques to charities, and their bit is done. But just average people, working hard to earn a living, maybe studying on the side too, and devoting their time, and energies for a cause. The group, as a whole or a few individuals at a time, visit the children they support in Kolkata, spend time with them, not as the people, who pay for their living, but as their friends. I was so touched by the genuine love these people have for the kids. Most of the members are twenty somethings or in their early thirties, most live in shared accommodation with friends, buy their stuff from second hand stores, travel using public transport or on their bicycles, and yet I have not met a happier group of people under a roof. These are people who are actually being the difference they want to see in the world. And no, they are not a group of amateurs here, I was amazed to see how well, each one had prepared their bit for the upcoming event, well set, and working just as well as any well paid event management group would. Just shows how far a little want to help and good will can take us. All I can say, is I feel so so lucky to be a part of them now, just to be in the company of such altruistic, loving and inspiring people, most of whom are much younger than me and thank God, for putting me onto this organisation.

And here is presenting the wonderful video shot by one of the brand new members of the group, just like yours truly, as promo for the Bollywood extravaganza.



Love it! Don't you. If you are in Melbourne, in or around, just drop in, don't miss the event.

Don't XOXO Me

Its been a while now, since I have been receiving e-mails, and text messages, signed off with an 'XX' or an 'XO'. Being the dud that I am, I did not initially get it, and let it be thinking it is something cool, I am just not in touch with. Then I got to watching Gossip Girl, and finally got what it meant. It is a 'cool' way of saying hugs and kisses, the XOXO. OK! and so people were actually sending love across to me, all this while, but I did not get it. How good is that, it makes me wonder.

It was recently, that I realised, that some values, are eternal. They cannot be trespassed in the name of modernity, or being cool. Its a world today, where people find it acceptable to not respond to messages, even wishes for that matter, where the scandalous has become not just acceptable, but even the norm, and the worst of it being, that actually saying that, we find something unethical or immoral unacceptable, makes the person 'un'cool. And I decided, that I will no longer accept what feels wrong to me instinctively, just to be accepted in a group of people. Well, hopefully I will write a more detailed post on this some other time.

Love, I believe is the most powerful emotion in the world. Not just the kind that transcends into a physical, sexual thing, but every form of it. Between friends, parents and children, siblings, and just two human beings who feel it for each other. Hugs and kisses are an expression of that emotion. These actions and emotions are conveyed by certain words. And the association gives those words the positive power. So why then would I take away from it, in anyway at all. I don't get it. What is the thought process behind this?

I remember long back, having a discussion with a friend, regarding abusive parenting, and she had said that even the verbal abuse, name calling, was a form of the parents expressing love. I was surprised, and replied, 'For all the loving words that exist in the world, why would anyone use abusive ones, to express a so called affection. There is a reason affectionate words exist as such in the dictionary.' And I have the same reasoning here. 'Love','hugs','kisses' such beautiful words, conveying such amazing emotions, why would I replace it with symbols, which also reflect wrong(X) and nothingness(O)? Sometimes I really wonder if the world is hurtling down a black hole, just because we don't spend time to think about our actions, and just jump in, to join the bandwagon of other mindless people following someone else.

I would much rather write, and have written to me words full of emotion and affection, than symbolism, which does not make sense, and in many ways represent the exact opposite of what is intended. Send me love, hugs and kisses people, don't need cross-n-knots.

Any new trend that bothers you, makes you feel that its all wrong and senseless?

The Vanity, I thought I Did Not Possess!

I was procrastinating for really long about this post, to do it or not, do I really want the world to know? Wouldn't I rather just hide it and let it be, I thought for long. It gets a bit more difficult to be candid on the blog, with each new friend I make through this space. (I think the fact that the visitors to this space have almost ceased to exist, is making this post a lot easier, I must admit.) So what was it going to be. Honestly, I was shocked by my own reaction to the situation, felt like quite a phony infact.

I have always believed myself to be completely immune to mujhe aunty mat kaho na syndrome. I was quite alright with such addressing, since years now. I am not particularly partial to looking good, nor am I particularly distressed at the thought of physically aging. And well, so I thought I was quite immune to the typical feminine folly of vanity. How wrong was I? What a hypocrite I am!

Well why, you wonder? A few days back I spotted my strands of grey. Yes. I was totally shocked. I had decided ages ago, that I would embrace my greys gracefully and not go running to the box of hair colour. But what did I know they would attack me so early. I had expected them to begin showing maybe a decade later, and yet here they are, peeping here and there, being a mirror to my reality. I was shocked to see the strands, not one or two that had cropped up earlier, but a good 3 or 4. I am depressed, I don't want to be old, not so soon anyways! God! Am I vain. Its a scary truth to embrace, and I am more shocked at the intensity of my reaction to the occurrence.

Have not yet run to colour my mane, but maybe in the not too distant future, I would have to make it a part of my routine!

Whet It Izz......?

Insert word of choice, like papa, pepperoni, car, GPS, jacket, slippers... ad infinitum. That is what my day starts with, and it loops through on and on and on. The BBs new found passion to find out where things are.He wakes up in the morning and the first thing he asks me, is 'Whet it is papaaaaa?'(read as where is papa if you may.) The good thing though is, it has not reached the stage of driving me nuts yet, and I just enjoy it, and instigate him every now and then. Its fun, and tons infact. A word I love have him say is dirty. It started off with this filthy paintbrush he found somewhere, and I asked him to keep it away, stating its dirty dirty. And he repeated 'dorty dorty brush' and since then pretty much everything in the house has been announced as 'dorty dorty'.

His talking, is to our ears, what the first drops of rain are to the parched earth, of a drought ridden place. We have waited and waited and waited. Its has been long, and it has been hard. Not just because we wanted to hear him talk, but because of the moments that we doubted our strongest beliefs, and did not know what to think. I have always been a strong believer in the fact that each child has his own developmental curve, and I knew from day one that I did not want to be a competitive mother. And this possibly was the biggest test, of that belief. At three, when the BB was not already talking a dime a dozen, it became worrisome for us. He would utter a few words here, and some there, but there were no constant barrage of talking, or questions. And all around I saw and heard of these cute little things the kids his age were saying, and I waited for him to begin.

Everyone, who knew him in India, would tell me, how he was a late-talker and would drive me nuts when he began, because that is what late talkers usually do, they said, they are like a dam that has burst. And all I could say was that I was eagerly waiting for the day. It was hard to have words like delayed speech mentioned, or being asked, if I had sought professional help, or even having to mention at places, like the day care centre, that he does not really talk yet. It was hard. And then there were times that I almost broke down, and did not know what to do, where I gave in to despair and gloom. Something within me told me, that he was absolutely fine, just taking his own sweet time, and yet sometimes, the fear would grip my heart and leave it cold. The GP and I fortunately alternated in that state, so there was always one to reassure the other, when we fell into a state of despair. But some days were definitely harder than others. Often I would reason things to reassure myself. I knew the reasons, he was not hearing a lot of conversations around him. It was just him and me all day long, and I am not a great conversationalist, when left on my own. We speak two languages at home, and often bilingual children take longer to pick up a language and most importantly the BB's need to talk was very little. He usually has things work out for him, before he needs to ask for it. An advantage of having the mother around all day long, and yet disadvantageous in its own way. I had spoken to his pediatrician in India, about it, and he had not been concerned at all. And he is an amazing doctor, and my biggest concern while leaving India, was not having him around. He was a boon to a paranoid first time mother like me. Besides not believing in bringing up children on supplements and medicines, just like me, he had very practical things to advice, even on the daily care of a baby. And so, he is the one person I could freely discuss my concerns with, without the fear of the existing paranoia of the medical fraternity scaring me. And I had been reassured by his words. I then found a friend, who told me he had not uttered a word till he was all of 5, and even then it took him a while to actually get talking. Today he stands as normal as anyone can be. And these things soothed my mind. And yet there would be occasions when I would read something, or someone would ask a question, regarding his language skills, often innocently, and would make me anxious all over again.

The BB is an amazing child, really. And I think he was tailor made for me, in many many ways. I know I am a biased mother here, but the fact is, that a lot of the problems I hear parents face with their young children, are things I never had to deal with. There were no teething troubles, no weaning hassles, no problem with him being around new people, nor of him getting cranky when someone went away. He is usually a fuss-free child, he has no favourite toys, nor anything that is a security blanket, and he can keep himself happy with very little. No he is not perfect, he does throw tantrums, and gets cranky when sleepy or hungry, and there is a lot, and I mean a real LOT of screaming, for fun happening late evenings. But truth be told, he is an easy child. The only trouble I had, was when there was a phase where he was pushing other kids, and that lasted about all of 2 months. He is smart, and I say that because I have seen the ease with which he uses the laptop, or the GPS, or the i-pod. There is no random punching like kids his age usually do, but more a purposeful using. He knows how to use the microwave, and enjoys being allowed to operate it. He knows his limits and does not try crazy things, that would make me keep him restrained at all times. We never really formally sat down and taught him things but he knows his alphabets, learnt on his own from a wonderful interactive website for kids, called starfall and is learning his numbers now(yes, the microwave.) I would open the starfall site, and cook and clean away to glory, while he stayed busy exploring the various alphabets. Truth be told, he taught the alphabets to himself. And I appreciate every bit of all these things, instead of cribbing about the usual kiddish bouts of stubbornness or slow eating and such things. But the fact that he was still not conversing, did prick me every once in a while. I discussed with a few friends, and I have to say that I was fortunate, that they were so supportive, understanding and reassuring. My worries would melt away after talking to them. And so I continued to wait. In the meanwhile, we shifted gears at home, speaking in only one language, so that its easier for the BB to understand and pick up. And its tough sometimes, when we are so used to speaking in Hinglish pretty much always.

I realised a while back, that being with kids his age at the day care place was really having its effect. Both good and bad. While he was learning to test his limits, with things like pushing other kids, he was also getting more communicative. He was going beyond using his one word expressions of things he needed. And it was just what we had been waiting for. Maybe it was interacting with children his own age, or maybe it was the need to use words to communicate his needs to the people there, or maybe it was time for him to start anyways, I don't know what exactly it was, but something did the trick, or maybe it was a combination of it all. While the GP and I both noticed it happening, neither said a word, for the fear of jinxing it, and so we waited, till one day he came home and began singing a song he had learnt, and though the words were jumbled up, there was the part where he asks, 'What it izz name?' (read - what is your name.) and then goes ' BBeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee'! There has been no looking back ever since fortunately. And in a way I felt it was a test of whether, I can actually stand up for my own beliefs in crunch time, and I am happy that inspite of the moments of terrible fear and anxiety, I maintained my position, and did not panic running from door to door, trying to 'fix' my child. It is true that no one knows a child like does the mother.

I am happy in a way that I was tested, and that it has just strengthened my belief in each child having their own developmental curve. As parents, the GP and I are sure, that we will never be competitive, pushy or expect the BB to live his life our way, all we hope for, is that the BB becomes a good, compassionate human being, everything else is secondary in life. We just want him to be happy and nothing more, and may God give us the strength to always live with that conviction, and never fall prey to the competitive ways of the world. I love my child, wholly and totally, no conditions, ever!

That's the BB on his first train ride ever. Just last month, on The Puffing Billy.

Surprisingly enough, he had never been on a train before. And I think he enjoyed his first time. Also did his first boat ride recently, and had great fun doing that too!