THIS IS IT !

You know how you feel when you’ve just met or done a thing you’ve been looking for, all your life? Its an Unknown, yet a familiar kind of excitement. Like the ‘soul mate’ funda. Now, apply the same thing to what you you’ve been looking at wanting to do all your life.

You might be able to catch my pulse and get a sense of what I’m hinting at, if you are a regular here. You  know how confused or unfocussed I was with my ‘life plans’. Sometimes I was wistful about my short-lived ‘corporate’ career, and then there were days when all I wanted to do was cook, clean and be a stay at home mom. Well, the book was never really a ‘career’ option.

All these days i was juggling with multiple ideas, talents and desires. All I wanted to do was taper my focus areas to one main activity, that I could devote my time to. Something that  excited me, immensely. And like you might have already guessed, it turned out that there were several ‘immensely exciting’ things I could and wanted to do. So I started giving everything time. Photography, cooking, writing, firming up plans for my ‘silver’ venture. I was doing them all with a lot of panache. And the more energy I put into these activities the clearer everything got.

I went for my first class on ‘Silversmithing’ today at Sydney Art School. I learnt to make my own silver ring, out of a strip of silver. It took me 4 hours to make it. But this post is not about the how’s and what’s. All that you’ll find on my silver blog. What I want to share here, is the feeling . It felt so familiar- holding the metal, filing it, polishing it. As if I was meant to do it. As if the metal I so adore, was destined to be in my hands.  (I swear, for the very first time on this blog, I am not exaggerating :-)).

The feeling was akin to meeting Raj :D. A this is it feeling, or like I hurriedly updated my status message from the bus, I’ve found my calling.

Happy. Happy. So happy!

For those who I know won’t go to my silver blog, here is what I made :

Thoda Ketchup Try Karo, Ketchup Hota Kaddu Bhara..

So Manikarn sparked this off. A lot of people have asked me how ‘Ketchup’ came to be my blogging nick.

When nehavish, my favourite-est blogger, and then colleague/ friend introduced me to this addiction, I didn’t know I  could mask my name. Yes, I was rather duh (notice the past tense pl). So when I finally got down to creating this blog and was prompted for a name, I had this sudden urge to remain anonymous.  I wanted to be this mystery writer…basically I didn’t have the guts to go public. Its really a different matter that what I wrote in the initial years of this blog was pretty cringe-worthy.

But I digress. So I got thinking. I’m not exactly a patient person – so ideating about my blogging nick was getting me into a state of tizzy, and I had to settle on something quickly.

My eyes scanned my office interiors looking for clues. Pictures of beautiful Adivasis and little kids from government schools adorned the walls of the NGO where I worked.  I was next to an orange wall.  Nothing worked out somehow. ‘The Adivasi Girl’, or ‘Orangiee’ somehow didn’t quite cut it (: .

That evening I took a tea break to visit Bakers Inn (Hyderabad) to satisfy my Cheese Tart cravings. Little did I know that my blogging-nick was safely tucked between two sand-paper like tissues, inside the take-away box.  I opened the box in the pantry and out came the tarts, tissues and a sachet of TOMATO KETCHUP. Aha. Eureka!

Absolutely nothing cerebral about it. I know. But really, do you care? Also, I’ve begun to wonder what the consequences this nick will face when I turn 60 plus. I think I’ll stick to KG, notwithstanding what my grand kids might have to say :). (Oh of course I’ll be blogging at 60, doubtlessly, through my arthritis! Whatever the hell did you think, aye?)

Of course, KG is no more unknown.. No, by ‘not unknown’ I don’t mean ‘popular’.  By ‘no more unknown’, I mean, all those I was trying to hide from -friends, relatives, neighbours- they all know now,  the face behind the ‘Ketchup Girl’. But I  do take solace in people, who haven’t bothered to know more and go beyond Ketchup. You are happy with this Ketchup babe, and don’t want to know if Ketchup was Kylie or Kalyani in the real world, so long as the posts are published regularly. :-) Cheers to you all!

…is mein Kaddu nahin zara! Laal Rasile tamataron se hota hai tayyar , Volfarm! (All who remember this, please stand up!)

A list

Exactly at this point in time, I want to

- join Art school, get a degree in Visual arts and major in Jewellery  design.

- take a quick lesson in French Patisserie

- attend a workshop on creative writing

- book a stall in Bondi’s market place and sell silver jewellery

- take off to Bali

- pull out the water-colour tubes and re-create what I did eons ago

- give life to my Silver boutique

- pack my camera, tie my Nike shoe laces and set off to capture Sydney through my D60.

- make a cuppa and read  Rushdie on my rattan reading chair

- go for a all girls holiday to an exotic island

- take a Himalayan holiday in Ananda spa

- go in search of ‘true happiness’

There are some very complex things too that I wish for. Mentioning those  here will set off an alarm in the man’s head. So will let those points remain safe in the head.

I love lists. :)

Want to share yours?

Dog talk

I don’t think it will be a lie to say that I grew up with dogs. We as a family never really brought home a dog, but we gave shelter to many. I was notorious for picking up puppies from all corners of the colony and bring them home, begging ma to give those ‘poor puppies’ a home. One such pup that our milkman- Krishnappa brought home,  remained with us. Ma miraculously agreed to keep him and I like every other person in those days did, named him ‘Tommy’.

Tommy was the son of a mongrel. No lineage so to speak of. But he had the cutest tail , brownest eyes and very loyal. He walked me to school, and arrived bang on time to walk me back home too. He sat by me in the evenings, brought back my lost pair of chappal, allowed us to ride him like a horse,  and destroyed ma’s vegetable garden with the vivacity of a  mad dog.

He loved dad and me the most. He did have to bear the brunt of ma’s wrath for all the  backyard destruction, but he never left us. When dad got back from work, he gave him a guided tour of our backyard, leading dad, mum and me from plant to plant, tree to tree checking if the fruits and vegetables were ready to be plucked.  The colony I grew up in was also a very dog-friendly place. A lot of people we knew, had dogs. I still remember the names of many – Bamby, Snowy, Suzie, sandy, Rex :-).  The idiom ‘Once bitten twice shy’ doesn’t mean much to me. When I was about 10 years old ‘Bruce’, my aunt’s Doberman, got a little irked with me, and gave me a little ‘identification mark’ for life on my cheek bone. That didn’t scare me a wee bit.

And when we went to Kolkata for summers, we had ‘Tipu’ (he was named after my brother and me :D) to play with at our grandparent’s place. He was a strange mango-loving dog. My brother and I adored him. Tipu’s ancestors- 3 generations before him, were brought up my my dad's family. Apparently Tipu’s mother Neeta loved listening to the Tabla that my youngest paternal uncle played and was quite a temperamental bitch. There was ‘Patchie’ too. But I know very little of her.

After I got married, my husband and I, both wished to bring home a pup someday. But that someday arrived a tad too soon and like God-sent wish that was express-delivered, a friend called us to ask if we’d be interested in adopting a lab pup, all of one month. We agreed  without thinking much and brought ‘Coffee’ home. But we were young, restless and inexperienced. We weren’t ready for him. I wasn’t ready to handle the hunger tantrums every few hours. Coffee was just like a baby. I freaked out. We didn’t have the support of family either. My in-laws are not fond of dogs and my dad was not willing to take over the responsibility of bringing a dog home. Ma, I knew wanted to keep Coffee, but didn’t have dad’s support. So finally we gave him back to the owner. After that what followed was a miserable one month. I haven’t forgiven myself for what I did. And I know my only redemption will be by bringing home a Lab again.

Watching Marley and Me (for the second time) brought back memories of all the canines that gave me company in my childhood. Apparently Coffee is a lot like Marley. A complete rogue. :-)

I think every childhood must have a dog in it. Why just childhood, every person must share his life with a dog. Never mind what the pedigree, he/she will be your friend for life . In Australia when you register your pet’s name you also give your family name to it :-). I think its the cutest gesture – it’s your family after all. 

I love the last few words of the film-

A dog has no use for fancy cars or big homes or designer clothes. A waterlogged stick will do just fine. A dog doesn't care if you're rich or poor, clever or dull, smart or dumb.
Give 'em your heart and he'll give you his. How many people can you say that about?
How many people can make you feel rare, pure and special?
How many people can make you feel extraordinary?

Pat, Arnab and Dalma.

Arnab:  You never made this before. How come no non-veg today?

Pat: Just felt like having Dalma. You’ve had this before . Ma makes it so often. It’s a true-blue Oriya dish.

Arnab: Oh ! this is that special dal that the ‘band-baaja walas’ have in a Oriya wedding?  ha ha ha.

Pat: Where on earth did you hear that?

Arnab: Your mother told me. Apparently they make it in gallons, because the Baaja walas eat tons. So you made this for me?

Pat: Ma must have meant it in a different way. You have the knack to look at the flip side of things. Especially if there is an Oriya side to it.

Arnab: Why are you offended? But, I must admit that the Bong band-baja walas have fish-fry and a ten course meal, just like the rest of the invitees.

So,  Pat, the band-party in our wedding had this ..…this Dalma?

Pat: May be they did.How does it matter?

Arnab: I bet in our reception, which my parents hosted, the musicians had the same food as the rest of the invitees. Bongs are large hearted, when it comes to food.

Pat: Don’t even get there . Why, yes! I remember you left my side in the wedding and served them yourself.  But you know what, the way your Bong relatives pigged,  I’d be surprised if there was anything left at all. I remember Poltu boasting about the 8 Pantuas and 6 fish fries he ate. Incidentally he wanted more but the guy  who was serving didn’t return to his side with the fish. And is it true that the entire Midnapur gang of relatives who came fell sick after eating the ‘bou-bhaat’ (Reception) food?

Which brings me to the point, baby, why didn’t your parents have a buffet arrangement like my parents did?

Arnab: becau..

Pat: I’ll tell you. Because they were so sure of a mob at the buffet table. Half my relatives must have gone hungry because they didn’t want to stand behind the chairs of those sitting, waiting for them to finish. Was that Pujo bhog distribution or our wedding reception dinner?!!

Arnab: Oh please. I saw them all. Everyone ate. ok?

Pat: Anyway I couldn’t keep tab. I was too nervous batting questions from your kakimas and mashimas. Apparently the gold I wore was too little.

Arnab: (sensing ‘gold’ was a very dangerous territory to tread on)But you digress. We were talking about the humble Dalma. And here you have seamlessly digressed to my Kakima. Listen na, can you make me Kosha Mangsho tomorrow? I’m sorry, never again will I belittle the mighty state of Kalinga! Make that Kosha Mangsho with luchi, please?

Pat: It is Thursday tomorrow. It’s my veg food only day. I made a ‘gallon’ of this ‘Band-baaja special’, Dalma. Eat that. Good Night.

Arnab: Shit.

(other Pat and Arnab stories in the tab above, under the header called- KG’s short stories).

*Dalma is a special Oriya preparation of moong-dal and vegetables.

The Cha Lover

This blog has said little about its title.  Thought it can be best expressed with images. Completely inspired by Arch at Rang, I spent some very personal and precious moments with my only friend in solitude, Cha. I need to spend more time with my camera. It is indeed very relaxing.

Tea is drunk to forget the din of the world.  ~T'ien Yiheng

There is a great deal of poetry and fine sentiment in a chest of tea.  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Each cup of tea represents an imaginary voyage.  ~Catherine Douzel

Tea should be taken in solitude.  ~C.S. Lewis

Drink your tea slowly and reverently, as if it is the axis on which the world earth revolves - slowly, evenly, without rushing toward the future.  ~Thich Nat Hahn

You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me.  ~C.S. Lewis

Find yourself a cup of tea; the teapot is behind you.  Now tell me about hundreds of things.  ~Saki

Liked? 

Yesterday.

Wasn't it just yesterday
we stole a bottle of gin into my room,
drunk, we lay still on the terrace to watch the full moon?

Wasn't it just yesterday
 we pooled in coins to catch the first show,
entered a salon together, for the first time, to pluck our eye brow?

Wasn't it just yesterday
we went on our first double date,
and told a bunch of lies, when we got home awfully late?

Wasn't it just yesterday
he proposed to you,
then in a few years, yes, he did to me too?! (:D :D)

Wasn't it just yesterday
we planned our grand futures,
while painting a perfect picture, of a greener pastures?

It was yesterday, indeed it was,
when we knew not what it meant to be mothers
nor what it was, to change soiled diapers!

I never thought I'd think of us
in a tense, that's past perfect,
groping around for a bit of yesterday
is my current pet-project.

But in tomorrow, I have hope
to bring us again together.
Though, all my heart wishes for now
is a glimpse of you today, and not wait for a moment later.

Nostalgia is a horrid thing

Know what, nostalgia sucks. Its a nosy little prick and always wants room for a night, for free , always at your place. And he comes knocking without a warning. A lousy, useless, thing- this nostalgia. Yesterday I got a visit out of the blue, when I was talking to Phish-phish. Turned out madam was travelling to Dilli by train, and then the darned chai-wala had to do a chai-chai number on the platform. And I had to  hear him on the phone. That’s where the little prick boarded MY train.

It hasn’t left me yet. And it is not fun anymore reveling in old times. Why the hell is that when we talk of ‘good times’, its always yesterday, in the past?  Its a load of crap and I am not giving in anymore to nostalgia. No, sir. I feel old when I do that. And feel as miserable as the German Soccer team (they lost, they lost!). Though I can’t be happier that they lost- a paradox?! 

So then, as Mr.. George Wildman Ball apparently said,  yes ‘ Nostalgia is a seductive liar’. 

A few updates that you must have already noticed:

I now blog for Vogue.in. For their reader’s blog, on jewellery related posts. This happened via Silveratti – my silver blog, I so so love. I’m on cloud nine to be blogging there!

I won that Blog Adda contest. Pringoo sent a personalized mug to my dad. It has Mishmash’s pic on it and now rests as a prized trophy in my parent’s ‘show-case’ amongst assorted knick-knacks , wondering if they’ll ever use if for a cuppa!

And I have put on 3 kilos.

So long for now. And for all my pals who’ve tagged me, a little patience please. KG is down with the nostalgia bug.