Nolite te Bastardes Carborundorum

A call. A miscalculation. 

They talk and talk and talk! 

Husband and wife, united by their venom. 

Rattle snakes that poison the soul. 

Tumne hamari poti ko humse door rakha.

Tum hamare bete ke saath shaadi ke pehle ghoom rahi thi. 

Uske saath so ke use fasaya hai. 

Tum cunning aur sly ho. 

Mera mooh mat khulvao. 

Tumne toh tumhare baap ko ghar se bahar phenka hai. 

Tum apni maa ke godi mein raho. 

Agar guts hai toh tumhare parents ko call karne ko kaho. 

Jo hamara beta kamata hai tumhe hi toh deta hai. 

Hame kuch milta hai? 

Hum tumhare paiso pe nahi reh rahe. 

Tum luxury enjoy kar rahi ho hamare bete ke paiso pe. 

Meri bimari mein aa ke tamasha kiya tumne. 

Apne bhai se phone pe baat ki us din? Kyon? 

Tumhara bhai uski biwi ke saath reh raha hai na? 

Tum nahi reh sakti? 

Tum hamara beta tumhare relatives ko show off karti ho, 

Hamari bahu kabhi yaha aati hai? 

Hamne hamare bete ko ek saal se nahi dekha. 

Hum taras rahe hai. 

Main mar gaya toh bhi dekhe mat aana. 

Hame tum aur tumhari beti, donho nahi chahiye. 

Tum hame kale Madrasi kehti ho. 

Unpadh kehti ho. 

Hamare bare mein likhti ho. 

Tum pregnant thi toh hum kya kare?

Pehla baccha nahi dekhne milta, doosra abort ho gaya toh kya? 

Biwi ki duty kabhi ki hai? 

Tum jhoot bol rahi ho. 

Hamara beta tumhare parents pe kabhi chilla nahi sakta. 

Tum aur tumhare parents mein tameez nahi hai. 

Unhone tumhe tameez nahi sihkhayi hai. 

Pyaar ka natak karke hamare bete ko fasaya hai. 

Tum kya ho batau main tumhe? 

TUM PAISE KI GIRLFRIEND HO! 

Love Story 2006 -____ 

Character assassination = 100% 

Justice/Jail Time = 0% 

Save the girl child. 

Let her never be born!

***

DISCLAIMER

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Tinkle (I do not mean Twinkle) Toes!

Ridiculous though it may sound, anklets make me very happy. Giddy even. In spite of its association with misogyny/slavery/sexism/etc., this is one metal chain that I find utterly liberating. Primarily, no one considers it significant, thereby not eliciting any/many comments. Since I generally put my feet up while reading/studying, the aesthetic pleasure I derive is generally all mine. Nay to voyeurism and the male gaze. Plus, silver is in the doghouse per se where jewellery is concerned. The Indian subcontinent is so enamoured by gold and now diamonds that silver still remains (that is changing too with gold becoming almost impossible to afford 😐) relatively the cheaper element. And, to boot, it is also anti-racist. How so? Well, gold (apologies for being politically incorrect) does not suit all skin tones, while silver is one metal that can enhance and embrace any skin colour. I've known so many dusky women preferring silver to gold not because they cannot afford it, but merely because the amalgamation of ebony and shiny 14 (tsk tsk)/18 (probably diamonds here)/22 carat flaming yellow aurum makes one look like the ubiquitous काली पीली that one hails with indecorous abandon in the Mumbai metropolitan region. Rose gold made its entry to serve just this purpose (my hypothesis) of appealing to those who did not want to look like cousins of the canary, but its price still remains steep; and besides, 'people' will think it is fake. Ditto white gold which my snooty relative refuses to purchase as her peer group might think she picked up her trinkets on Colaba causeway. So the anklet then...aaah...so liberating. So mine. And if you want to add ayurvedic wisdom to it; it apparently cools the 'system'. Not that I believe in that hokum (overall, let's go agnostic on this), but yes, I know I am tired/ill when even the पायल seem too heavy for my feet. So yay for argentum. All hail atomic number 47. May it always lack in lustre.  😏

P. S. - I know 2020 is the Covid-19 year. I'm just ignoring it with an appropriately fatuous and flippant post. 

Self Image

Why does a Hindu drape

The dupatta like an Islamic chador?

Because she realises that

There is nothing to hide.

Why are you always so covered?

She smirks. To unveil prejudices.

She rises, her head held high

Beyond the storms and tempests

Of this paltry world while

Her feet dance the tandav

In synchronicity. 

Back to the Future

     A sense of deja vu envelopes me several times a day. Motor memory seems to ensure that I make all the right turns. Navigate even the new hexagon with ease. It feels like home. It is home.

     Familiar faces smile at me. Some might be cringing, but it's diplomatic to steer clear of meaningless confrontation. JNS has become JNIS. It is being led by a dynamic team of leaders. I am learning. I am engaging. I will be teaching the subject that I love the most.

     Applesauce has seen little of me. I seemed to have been working too hard and forgetting to think about myself. Who am I anyway? I ask people to think while simultaneously ensuring that I don't bother to look at my reflection; either literally or figuratively. I've turned myself into a product that delivers. A capitalist creation who thinks she can buy health and considers happiness overrated.

    Isn't it though? Isn't happiness a commodity which we are constantly selling people. From talc to towers, from pizza to pies in the sky - we are packaging happiness. And I'm just not buying it. Those who enter my sphere of contact come up with their own estimation of my happiness. I hear advice from everyone telling me that doing what I love isn't the way to live. And yes, doing what I do do does have its ups and downs. But not doing is worse.

     So this ramble shall raise a toast to doing. Do whatever you want to do. Just keep doing. Perhaps that is the key to happiness. Isn't even meditation intentional? Work is my meditation. I hope this...chapter/journey/voyage/ride/experience/tale/trial/tribulation/triumph/time shall help me understand the way of the world better.

     Over and out!

Pat-a-Cake

Semolina or Rawa Cake

Ingredients:

Semolina/Rawa - 1 cup

Yoghurt/Curd - 1 cup

Castor Sugar/Powdered sugar - 1 or 3/4 cup (to taste)

Clarified butter/Ghee or Oil - 4 tbsp

Saffron - 1 gram or two pinches (optional)

Cardamom/Elaichi powder - 2 pinches (optional)

Nutmeg/Jaiphal powder - 2 pinches (optional)

Vanilla extract (NOT essence) - 1 tsp

Baking powder - 1 tsp

Cooking soda - 1/2 tsp

Method: 

1. Grease a six inch bundt tin with clarified butter and keep it aside.

2. Mix the semolina, yoghurt, clarified butter, sugar, saffron and nutmeg and cardamom powder. Ensure that there are no lumps. Keep it covered for half an hour to forty five minutes.

3. Preheat the oven to 180 degrees centigrade. 

4. After forty five minutes add the vanilla extract, and the baking and cooking soda and mix well. 

5. Bake immediately for thirty minutes or till done. The edges should brown slightly.

6. Cool on a wire rack and unmould in fifteen minutes.

The cake tastes great both warm and cold. You may add chopped dry fruits if you so wish.

Happy New Year !!!

Yes, yes. Belated happy new year. I'm late. Very late.

***

That seems to be the constant refrain these days. Late to bed. Late in the morning. Late getting home. But it is  a good sort of 'late-ness'. I have some purpose. Some work. I have felt the urge to quit. But the memory of the have-nothing-to-do stage of my life makes me think nothing could be worse. 

And I do enjoy my job. It's not just some politically correct rhetoric. I have no wish to turn academia into a noble profession. It isn't. It's just fun. 

Dirty and full of duds (yes, yes, I am an intellectual snob); but gloriously fulfilling. Especially, being a student. You can't be a teacher unless you are a student...perpetually. I do want to keep learning. Is there another purpose to life? 

***

In other news, Indian politics seems to resemble the theater of the absurd. Yawn. Cringe. Outrage. Cringe. Yawn. 

*** 

And it rained today. The sky was as glum as my mood. Global warming? Ironically, there was a "nukkad natak" in school on the theme. Good motives. Very good. But is it going to change the weather? 

Poignantly, a line in the play pointed out that Global warming has become a business. The play exhorted us to love our environment too. The slow-hand-spread typical to Shahrukh Khan romance movies meant to represent love for nature was droll. Does the environment want love? The environment seems to be Edvard Munch like screaming - LEAVE ME ALONE. Love is smothering. 

***

Why am I blogging random stream of consciousness style? A student's turn it in report is yet to generate. Please turn it in Gods, hear my plea. I have a deadline to meet. Umm...why does one meet a deadline? Meet is too positive for a 'dead'line. 

Ok then, I have a deadline to beat !!!! 

Are you there God? It's me, an IB teacher !!!

***

The End

***

Yawn, yawn, yawn....

On Theory of Knowledge...snippets from a larger thread of conversation.

I agree with my colleagues who argue that it is important to not over-generalise the results of this survey. However, discounting student opinion entirely is not the solution either. The survey as a whole does seem to reflect my experience with students/student essays & presentations over the years both as a TOK teacher, Coordinator and Examiner.

I find it important to refer to school ethos vis-a-vis the treatment of TOK. The more sensible and sensitive students seem to have picked up on this aspect and have duly reflected on the school's/teacher's approach and erudition. I have taught TOK in two schools in the same city in India, and the difference in terms of perception about TOK was/is palpable. It is not surprising then to find that students tend to find their TOK lessons "confusing" to say the least.

Before and After

A random what's app message from an ex colleague asking for an opinion about a poem (nothing was divulged about its origin) resulted in my editing/reworking/fooling around with the initial text at her behest.

The before and after follow :-

Before:

Wave by wave, the water hits my skin
Crashing into me, taking me down
My thoughts are scattered with every blow
Peace fills me up even as I drown.

Happiness is a distant goal
Life is a winding labyrinth
Day by day, I'm picked apart whole
My conscience the only constant

Questions go unanswered, dreams have me on the hook
The rat race makes me question my ability
Will this tide ever guide me?
Will it ever save me from onlooker's pity?

I realise there's no need to fight, a burning fire consumes me.
Change comes from within, evolution the only way to survive
I embrace my problems, become one with them.
I've never been so clueless yet never been so alive.

After:

Self Help

Wave upon wave.
Salt water on skin.
Forming a skein,
all enveloping.

Thoughts scatter.
Scramble. Surge. Storm.
Are still.
Divine drowning.

Happiness?
Self actualisation?
Enlightenment?
Nirvana?

Seven habits.
The eighth habit.
The law of attraction.
Life; a pecsniffian Janus.

The conscience.
A tenuous tether.
An anchor.
At sea.

The high seas.
Tempestuous.
Questions.
More questions.

Dreams; a mirage.
The quest.
What quest?
Clueless. Calm. Convenient.

Lachrymal.
Salt water on my skin.

***

Definitely not a poet.

And almost bon voyage again...

Applesauce seems to be getting rather redundant considering that there is limited leisure. There is no time to stop and think. No time to mould meaning from banalities, and post a string of verbose words posing as profound erudite thought.

***

The weekend is like the new year. That time of hope when you make more resolutions you are unlikely to keep. The Wunderlist on the smart phone is full of to dos that shall make one feel productive come Monday morn. The accomplishment IS the list. There is little wonder at not having done a thing. 

The week has been hectic. Work has been exacting. Students have been/are demanding. The weekend is spent on Skype-ing with students. Books then are merely meant to be patted like good dogs who are always around. Books/dogs are not necessarily hugged or paid attention to. Weekend binges (encouraged by the Binge Baba on television) are the only thing one has energy for. Lethargy is relaxation. Malaise is rejuvenation.

***

SOS?

Bon Voyage 2014...

It's almost the close of another year. Is it time to count the goals achieved, the goals not met, or agonise over the complete and utter lack of any visionary mission for self-amelioration? Or better/worse still, time to "set" new unreachable goals?

The 2015 "Executive" diary has already arrived. It's strictly for work engagements. Personal goals seem to be rather obscure; other than the mundane '"let's be happy and healthy" chorus.

A summary of 2014 would read something like this :

1. January and February were dedicated to work.
2. March, April, and May were a paper correction and work haze.
3. June whizzed by, and I seem to have absolutely no memory of it.
4. July, August, and September were work again. Very HARD work.
5. October and November were a commingling of memory, desire and examination anxiety.
6. December brought an examination adrenaline rush, and now there's more to be done on the academic and work front before the curtain falls.

Hmm...what else am I supposed to be/have done? Wife, mother, daughter, sister, daughter-in-law, friend/etc.? 

I seem adrift like most of J.M. Coetzee's protagonists. A symbol whose sign is a disastrous amalgamation of undecipherable and completely arbitrary signifiers and signifieds. 

I'm an insider/outsider. I'm the margin as well as the centre. A desiring machine which is chaotically grasping at conservative, and simultaneously emancipatory lines of flight. 

Basically, I'm Antionio Gramsci's traditional intellectual flummoxed by rather organic predicaments. 

Viola...history always repeats itself. I'm me. The end.

****

2015 though is highly anticipated....as it should be. To misquote Coetzee, when one year sails, philosophise; the next seems rosier. 

New shoes...

Even the best may bite initially, or on occasional overuse; but the inevitable comfort of a proper fit brings indescribable relief.

The shoe analogy could be infinitely extrapolated. If the feet aren't right, we just plain stumble. No humungous epiphany here.

Not surprisingly we begin our fairy tales with Cinderella and her dainty glass slippers. We win when we fit the delicate shoe.

Fit the shoe? Really? 

I'll let the shoe fit. We're spoilt for choice with the advent of globalisation. 

***

Was I talking footwear? Maybe. Maybe not. 

***

Moral of the story : Wear socks. Shoes can't be trusted !!!

The Articulate & Aching Noggin....

I've realised I'm definitely NOT a "Sun 'n' Sand" person !!!!!!!!!

My lungs feel like tar soaked sponge. My nasal passages are blocked. My head is throbbing. It's been an ouch ouch day. And also an ouch day in terms of realising that blogging is becoming a habit of the past.

Jane Austen chides pretentious wives who give up their "hobbies" post marriage. I always considered this post marital/maternity syndrome a myth. When a colleague pointed out that I have been an inactive blogger for almost a year, I realised I'd over stewed my apples. Baby time led to no blog time; and voila, my applesauce turned rancid.

***

In other news, do I have new insight to share on motherhood/maternity/blah blah? No. Non. Nein.

Do I feel different? Maybe. Who doesn't? The stretch marks and floppy belly are probably going to be lasting reminders.

Do I want to talk about the maternal instinct ad nauseam? I don't think so. I love my daughter, but I'd much rather shirk the mother mantle as such. I don't wish to shrug it off, but I have little intention of eulogising it.

***

Else, my life and its hardly-have-time times go on.....c'est la vie !!!

Ambrosial !!!

 Coconut and Lemon Syrup Cake

     A Donna Hay Recipe

Another stunning cake by the Goddess of all baked goods. I dislike coconut, but this cake makes one fall in love with this humble ingredient.

Moist, spongy and zesty; it is akin to eating a lemon soaked cloud !!!

And the best part, I tweaked the recipe to make it egg less. The Australian company Orgran's "No Egg Natural Egg Replacer" worked wonders. Yay !!!

The Cheesecake Factory

Classic Baked Cheesecake 

      A Donna Hay Recipe

Donna Hay is THE definitive baker. Her recipes are flawless. She helped me create my favourite dessert, the baked cheesecake.

Ricotta, cream cheese and lemon zest baked to creamy perfection...yum !!!!!!!



And yes, cheesecakes do improve after 24 hours of refrigeration. The taste test proved that. 

Shrikhand....food of the Gods !!!

श्रीखंड 

Once again made under Aai's supervision. This traditional Maharashtrian dessert is very easy to make. 

Ingredients :

Curd - 1.5 kgs (Made from 1.5 litres of milk)

Sugar (powdered) - 3/4 cup or to taste (I prefer less sugar)

Cardamom (powdered) - 1 tbsp

Nutmeg (powdered) - 1 tbsp

Safforn - A few strands + for garnishing

Milk - 1 tbsp

Method :

Hang the curd in a muslin cloth for a few hours. Wring out the excess water. Dissolve the saffron in 1 tbsp of warm milk. Add the saffron, sugar, cardamom and nutmeg to the drained curd and mix well. 

Stretch a piece of muslin over a clean vessel to form a sieve. This should not sag. Pass the curd mixture through this muslin sieve a little at a time. Transfer to a bowl and garnish with a few saffron strands. One may garnish with chopped dry fruits as well. 

Note : To make fruit flavoured Shrikhand, add about 1/4 cup of mashed ripe fruit to the curd mixture before sieving it. Adjust the powdered sugar based on the sweetness of the fruit you are adding.

Batatyacha Kees - Shredded Potatoes with Peanuts

बटाट्याचा कीस

Made under Aai's supervision. Easy breakfast / fast recipe. This is my mother's version. Serves 3-4 depending on their appetite.

Ingredients :

Potatoes (peeled and grated) - 6 medium
Ground Peanuts (Roast, peel and coarsely grind peanuts in a food processor) - 1/2 cup
Green chillies (roughly chopped) - 4/5
Cumin Seeds/Jeera - 1/2 tsp
Ghee/Clarified butter - 4 tbsp
Curd - 4 tbsp
Rock Salt - To taste


Method :


Heat ghee in a pan, and add the cumin seeds. Add the chopped green chillies after the cumin seeds turn dark. After about a minute, add the grated potatoes and the peanut powder. Mix well. Cook on medium heat while constantly shifting the mixture in the pan so that it does not stick. Add the curd and salt and mix once again. Cover and let the potatoes cook on low heat till they are done. Serve hot.

If you are not fasting, you may add chopped coriander to the potatoes. You may serve this with some whisked curd if you want an accompaniment.

Some things make more sense now...

Metaphors

I'm a riddle in nine syllables,
An elephant, a ponderous house,
A melon strolling on two tendrils.
O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!
This loaf's big with its yeasty rising.
Money's new-minted in this fat purse.
I'm a means, a stage, a cow in calf.
I've eaten a bag of green apples,
Boarded the train there's no getting off.

Sylvia Plath

On "1984"....

It is indeed shameful that I should peruse this George Orwell classic at so advanced an age. It is particularly embarrassing to confess that I am a student/teacher of literature. After owning a copy of the book for almost half a decade I finally managed to trudge through it.

Trudge is a very apt word for a book which is resplendent in its stupidity. This dystopic dystopia strikes one as the ravings of a closet capitalist cowering behind his "Capitalist black top hat", presenting one with a monumental perversion of Marxist/Socialist/Communist ideology. The vapid and stereotypical delineation of girls/women further manages to make one cringe at the abysmal lack of insight exhibited by the text, and its blatant gender insensitivity.

So much for 1984...I am hoping that Running in the Family by Michael Ondatjee shall prove more fruitful reading.

Gratitude....

In the normal course of life, one generally takes many things for granted. It is only when circumstances are unusual that one realises who really cares. For my part, I've realised how invaluable a person my husband is, and I am ever so grateful that he is a part of my life.

Thank you God for that beautiful serendipity that introduced me to this affectionate and ever so caring human being. It could so easily have been a miss.

Thank you !!! Thank you !!! Thank you !!!

New innings....

It is that time of the year again...when you realise another "new" year has begun. This year shall bring an addition to the family, and resolutions or not, things are bound to change. There has been/is much anxiety, but I hope April shall bring things to a successful resolution. *Fingers crossed*

Otherwise, this post is my reminder that I need to write more. There is something about putting pen to paper (finger to keyboard) that sort of makes vague diaphanous ideas more cogent and comprehensible to oneself. A mirror to the mind so to speak. A rendering that reveals what is occupying the occipital. More reading, more listening and less speaking. Mantra for 2012.

Happy new year everyone !!!