Big huge thought bubbles

It is strange how certain sights, sounds and smell bring along with it, this deep urge to experience the little nothings associated with it, again. I’ve been feeling very nostalgic about assorted things, events and people, and have this very strong urge to smell, see and hear all of them again.

 

I cannot explain the smell of an afternoon downpour on hot Shahabad stones. The smell is not like the ‘saundhi saundhi miti ki khushboo’, its something else. Along with the smell came a strange happiness which only a 10 year old knew then. Oh, I so crave to smell that again, be a 10 year old again, standing on the hot Shahabad stones, getting drenched.

 

I can see it all again with my eyes closed. How , as a school girl, in every summer, I leaned against the barricaded old railings of the second floor balcony of that almost dilapidated Girish park house in Kolkata. I liked watching the two girls get ready for school, watch Reba pishi apply lipstick looking into the tiny cracked mirror, getting ready to go on her sales girl job and watch the Kakus leave for their government jobs. I watched with much interest, kakimas drain steamy hot rice, and fry fish. And with big questioning eyes, the para-r Thakuma grumble, since the time she wakes up. Their lives were so open- all living out of one room houses, a total of 6 families lived below us, out of 6 rooms, all rooms in maximum of  1000 sq ft area. 1 common loo, 1 common bath for the womenfolk. 1 tap for the men who bathed openly with their laal gaamchaas on.

I was back in the evening kneeling against the railings to watch the kakimas perform ‘Shondhya’, blowing conch shell and light dhup kathi. Then  dadu and Thakuma, called for me and Dipu to sing ‘English’ prayers that were taught to us in our convent school.  I so want to see Kolkata again.

 

I can hear Basi Mye sweep and then splash buckets of water in the courtyard before sunrise, in Cuttack. I would be in a state of semi consciousness, listening to the familiar sounds, that I heard only in summers, a kid. The mooing of cows used to be almost a wake up call (back then, at my maternal grandparents home, they kept cows). Next would be Aie talking to some passer by, enquiring after their family’s well being. Aie knew everyone, and talked to everyone. Then a knock, with the chain against a wooden door (you know, a chain that is used to bolt doors?), and the clinking sound of a kettle and a steel cup next to my bed. ‘Chaha’. I some strange reason, I associate Cuttack with the tring tring of cycles and cycle rickshaw bells.

When will I see you again, Cuttack?

 

And my deepest thoughts are in Hyderabad, with Ma and Dad. Ma is probably kneading atta and making bhaja for dad’s breakfast. And pa must have just taken a bath, and is about to light an incense stick and ask for ‘peace and good health’, in front of the Gods. Before this they must have had bed tea. I love this part. Its my favorite-est part. I love having cha on the bed, with dad, mum, dada, sitting up, chatting on a lazy Sunday morning. Dada is married and so am I. Both, living in far away lands, leaving behind parents, all alone.

Ma and dad are probably talking about me. And my thoughts are with them today, like most other days.

FICTION: Ma’s Shorshe bata maach

She made shorshe Bata Maach, a surprise for him,

lest he said, I miss my Ma, again.

And it was not easy making that in a foreign land.

Mustard needed to be ground into a fine aromatic paste,

for which, she had no blender. So she resorted to the flat tasting mustard powder you got in Coles supermarket.

There was more misery- you got only fillets in that strange land,

how could one make shorshe bata with fish fillets?

But her talent and her ma’s training helped her make the most authentic mustard fish ever.

When he got back, he was in a fantastic mood. He gave her a glass of wine, for ‘company’s sake’ he told, (not because he knew she loved wine)

He spoke about his boss who wanted to promote him, his friend Anand, who was going back to India, of his parents, and his mum. His mum. He said he missed his mum’s food, and how hungry he was. And wished for the millionth time she was around to make him the awesome Shorshe Bata Maach.

He smelt the air and said, ‘I can almost smell it…ah the aroma…I am hungry…what’s for dinner? Chicken again, eh?’

She looked away.  (If he’d have even caught a glimpse of her right then, he’d have seen the finest shade of green)

She then said, ‘listen, there was nothing in the fridge, so no cooked food. Want me to open MTR’s Palak Paneer, it tastes great with all grain bread?

So you know me? Rilly?

We are not the way we actually are, you know. I mean we are not the way we seem. I think we are all made up of a sum total of all our idiosyncrasies. And the more you think of it, the more you’ll know how nutty you’ve always been. I was trying to think of things that people don’t know about me. Some bare boring facts and some funny things that are buried in our past. But these are things that actually make us……

 

Did you know that

1. I was a district level sprinter
2. I hate bongs  – ah, well, almost. Its ironical that my closest friends are either bongs or non bongs who speak bong. And the the biggest reality of my life- I married a bong. Sigh.
3. I love papaya
4. I sold computer courses for kids after college to earn money for my masters(yuck, that was the worst job ever, a reader of this blog was a colleague :-) )
5. I topped intermediate first year (damn dman damn, how the hell did I manage that??)
6. I flunked a computer course in degree first year – DOS  & Lotus 123 (wuhuhuhahahahahahahaha)
7. I worked for a loony guy who taught self Hypnosis after college hours sometimes. I used to man the registration desk and act like a pretty hostess. Sick Sick Sick. That gave me 200 bucks at the end of 3 hours. I saved it and used it to buy a Borosil tea pot for mum.
8. I stole in a bottle of Blue Riband gin in college final year, brought home a gang of girls (one is reading this), shut my room, and got pissed drunk. Ma saw the bottle in a few days time and told my brother that I have become an alcoholic. Wahahahahahahahahhahahahaha!
9. I started singing –'our father in heaven, Holy be your name’ instead of reading it , in front of an assembly of 2000 school children, in class 7. I still cannot believe I did that.
10. In one of the fancy dress competitions, I dressed as a ‘newspaper’. Basically I made a hole in the newspaper and stuck my head in it, walked into the stage and started reading out current affairs. I was in class 5. It was my grand idea. The only problem was that people didn’t get it.
11. I carried my tape recorder to my room and wept at Kishore Kumar love songs, thinking I had a lover, who ditched me. This was in class 6.
12. I insisted my brother and I had a picnic lunch under our mango tree, even if the tree was inside our compound.
13. I made my brother steal roses from other’s gardens, which I would give my class teacher. I bullied him to an insane limit.
14. I prayed religiously- well, only during my exams. And the floral offering would be directly proportional to the kind of exam. One Hibuscus for a unit test, lots of loose flowers for Mid terms and a nice garland for finals.

The deeper darker gorier stories, will be saved for my autobiography :D

Cha

Maya’s post on tea pots got me thinking on tea. Cha.   

That’s what we called tea back home. Having cha was a ritual. And an elaborate one at that. This is one bong trait I am rather thankful to have- the ‘cha’ drinking trait. And like most bongs, I love my everyday cup of freshly infused Darjeeling cha. The entire cha drinking experience, right from preparing it, has a very calming effect on me. I remember, for the longest time my parents got the Darjeeling leaf tea from Kolkata – we generally got Orange Pekoe. It was a luxury in those days, when leaf tea cost four times the price of regular dust tea. But ma, Pa always

about maintained their Cha standards. We stocked enough to last us for months. And if we did run out of it, we always had the Lipton- Green Label. Now of course, we have more options- Fab India stocks the finest Makaibari Darjeeling tea, in beautiful wooden boxes. A perfect gift for a tea drinker. Makaibari tea estate is said to be the best tea garden in the world. And if you ask me, their tea leaves are the best of all the Darjeeling/Himalayan/Assam varieties. Besides, Fab India, most departmental stores in India stock a variety of leaf tea from Nilgiris, Assam and Darjeeling blends.

 

China, from where tea originated has some very invigorating varieties. Though I have absolutely no knowledge about the names of the tea gardens there, we all know that both the Chinese and Japanese are known to love Green tea. Not all like the taste of Green tea. Though these days its being promoted for health reasons, to absolutely love Green tea one must acquire the taste. Be it Green tea, Jasmine, Chamomile, or the flavored teas available around Europe, and the very popular English breakfast tea, I love them all. I remember buying packs of flavoured tea from Istanbul– Apple, Rose, mixed herbs.  Oh and there’s more - have u heard of the chocolate tea- Lhamsa Chocolate tea? I am not so fond of the fruit infusions, but totally totally toallly love the herb teas. Fab India stocks some real good Tulsi tea. Just dump a Tulsi tea bag in a big mug of hot water and infuse it for a while. Lo! its all ready to take you to serene land! I remember Sue and I loved sharing a mug o Tulsi tea, in her balcony.

 

And what of our regular Masala Chai? Oh I love that too. On a chilly, wintry afternoon, there’s nothing like a steaming hot cup of Masala Chai. And I always stock a good amount of this chai, lest someone drops in and cringes at the mention of leaf tea. I believe Masala Chai is for those true connoisseurs of life- who live life king size, and like their chai with full fat milk, 3 teaspoons full of sugar, and tea brewed for atleast 15 minutes with Sanjeev Kapoor’s chai masala! This is fit for a royal guest, and is best enjoyed with Alu and Onion bhajjis. I remember, in Cuttack during our summer holidays, a huge aluminum Kettle would sit on the coal chulha, and cha would be brewed for a good half an hour. By 4pm, a steel cup and a tiny kettle with the brewed cha with a full packet of Parle G would be left by our bedside, along with a quick wake up call from your afternoon siesta - ‘utha, charta bajilani’ (Wake up its 4pm). Now who wouldn’t wake up to that aroma!!

 

  In Sydney, in the suburb I live in, I discovered The Tea Centre. Its a place you can spend hours, just looking at the pots, tea varieties and accessories. And here’s the crazy variety of teas they stock:

Chai (with cinnamon,cardamom, ginger and rose petals), Japanese Lime, Stockholm Blend, Cream, Sydney Special Blend, Earl Grey Special, Assam Dimakusi, Tea For Sunday, English Breakfast, Jasmine Monkey King, Organic Gunpowder, Pai Mu Tan, Japanese Sencha, Morningflower, Darjeeling, Ceylon Organic, Lapsang Souchong, Ginger Kiss, Rooibos Fireside, Sweet Dream & Anti Stress. Whoa!

 

The beautiful red Japanese tea pot you see here, is in good company these days. I picked her up at The Tea  Centre, and ever since we’ve had some real good time together.

 

But I like my every day cup of black tea in the mornings and with a dash of milk in the evenings. And yes, the tea must be infused in a pot. Call me smug if you should, but that’s how I like my cup of tea. Like I said, tea drinking for me,  is a ritual.

the caravan

 

I have always been fascinated with caravans.

But for some reason, caravans were always almost associated only with gypsies. At least I did. Guess it was the the old Naseer Hussain classic Caravan, which added to the perspective. The dictionary meaning also says – Group of merchants, pilgrims, or travelers journeying together, usually for mutual protection, in deserts or other hostile regions. So while I remained fascinated by this vehicle I always thought, this could be done by gypsies alone or maybe by that occassional bored single man, in lands far away from India. But then, seems like, times have changed, and today you can just hire a caravan, take your family/or just you alone, and travel the less travelled roads, or well, the more travelled ones too.

 

When Shahrukh drove that sexy caravan in Swades, I was so enamoured with the vehicle, that I immediately added it to my million and one ‘i wish I could’ list. Last weekend on our way to Wollongong beach, we stopped by a tiny beach called Coledale beach. The place was full of these campers with the caravans and barbeques. When I saw this (top left picture) family enjoying their beer with their wee baby in the crib,  I was so awestruck. In that one moment I must have made a thousand resolutions about travelling with my daughter. I remember, after she was born, each time we planned a holiday, it always seemed like she was the cause we shelved it. How in the wrong I have been all the while.

 

And then there is so much to tell about the people of this land. If there is one thing I want to come back with, it is the lesson to really ‘live life’. The people here, seem like they do it the right way. There is so much more to life than work, work, work, and that very very occasional weekend break to The Outlook Traveler prescribed 10 hour drive. Tracer Bullet , u seem to be the only one, who probably not just understands the funda of ‘living’ it up, but also, take it very very seriously. So thought I’ll dedicate this post to you. And honest to God, when I saw the caravans, I thought of you.

 

A quick search threw up  results of scores of caravans available on rent. Bookmarked a few and will save it for our soon to be planned trip to where ever. The armchair traveler in me has gotten up and wants to stretch and warm up.

 

So then, its time to wake up and smell the coffee fellas….or ummmm the beer perhaps?