Serendipity, Saunter and Faux paz

Linguistic negotiations  I found the words from the chapter ‘Exile’ from  'In Other Words' by Jhumpa Lahiri, lingering in my thoughts. Even as I read it my mind was running ahead of me in a parallel universe that houses my own experiences. I feel total empathy  for her estrangement with her mother tongue, Bengali and her comment that her mother tongue feels like a foreign tongue. Having spent several years in non- Marathi speaking regions, I am reminded of the struggle to keep my mother tongue alive. Trying to keep it flowing for my daughter CC; she may not have yearned for it as she had the resilience and the innocent adaptability of the very young to adopt another language and make it her own with remarkable speed. But for me my mother tongue was the bridge between being a young, bumbling parent and my own happy childhood. Language of course formed a large part of it. So with enthusiasm I got her CDs of Marathi plays and story books and sang her songs from the language ...

Discovering Chicory and Fava Virtual travelling during the pandemic, I kept making lists of what to see and what to do and what to taste on the next real trip. Researching Puglia, looking at various top 10 suggestions, what caught my attention was  ‘chicory and fava.’ A puree of fava beans soaked overnight and chicory leaves. It sounded wholesome and comforting but I had never heard of chicory leaves being eaten before. Chicory! My association with chicory is it's presence in coffee and endless debates about whether coffee is better with it or without it. My grandmother, dressed in her voile saree, sipping from a steaming cup of coffee, standing under the arched doorway that separated the dining room from the kitchen and strongly advocating chicory in coffee in her warm, cultured Maharashtrian manner. Grandmother refused to have coffee that did not contain chicory as according to her it was the chicory that brought out the flavours  of coffee.  The way she said it chi- ko...

Forever roses In addition to beautiful memories some other things travelled back with us from Kashmir.  Among them were the famous papier-mâché pen holder in black with an intricate floral design, a massive carpet that came in a few months later, a kangri (the wicker basket enclosing an earthen pot with coals to keep warm) and a branch of a rose bush. The beautiful cane basket, kangri, soon had a money plant cascading down the side of one of the display shelves, right next to the inner living room door. The pretty leaves, pale green and white contrasted beautifully with the dark polished wood of the cabinet and caught everyone’s attention. But this story is about the rose. As soon as we were back it was planted in the garden right next to the large window with a window box of China roses. It was hoped and indeed talked about that the velya gulab (vine rose) would grow tall and strong and cover the sun-shade of the window and fall over to the other side. This would be reminiscent o...

To read and to re-read! I came across some posts about re-reading on social media and I think re-reading books is such a pleasurable activity. When one re-reads a book after some years, the slightly blunt edges of  some of the some of ths things one has read suddenly sharpens, like sitting up in a chair in which you were almost slumbering when your flight is announced. It also reminds you a little bit of the time you first read it which can be pleasant or unpleasant or just different from the now.  And then you are a different person from then when reading the same book again. Whether the change is remarkable or slight there is no denying the change in turn making the book a little bit different to the earlier read. Some books feel like you are reading them again, some feel like they are a lot different to what you remember. And one notices different things - words, ideas, characters, traits of characters, associations.  So all in all most interesting, re-reading.

 The evening lights                                                        (Image created with picsart using a simple text prompt )   Some of our favourite stories that we asked Aji to repeat over and over again were of little Aji and her exploits with her siblings. And one of the stories I remember vividly is the one I narrate here.   To give you some context, there was a lone streetlamp at the end of our lane, by our gate. That was supposed to be enough for the six houses in our lane and unfortunately left dark stretches that one had to navigate. Often, this light would stop working and the electricity department would take a week or so to repair it and then the cycle repeated itself.   Residents from our lane kept the lights in their verandah on at least till around 8 pm making it easier for everyo...

Thinking of how seeds and peels were revered and always formed a part of our diets. The philosophy of food at our place would be encompassed by the lines of grace we said before the meal: Anna hey poorna Brahma – That food is the manifestation of the Absolute  It had to be respected, worshipped, honoured by enjoying it and never wasted! Our Aji would explain that food is supreme because it manages to please all the senses at the same time. Even as it is cooking, the aroma of the food wafts on the air, how it looks on the plate, the feel of the different textures while preparing the meal and when eating, appeasing titillated taste buds, the mild sounds of a slurp of curry or buttermilk, the softest crunch of the papads , and often the crackling of mustard surely heard while cooking but also the sizzle of hot oil poured on a bhakri or khichadi . And she said the sixth sense too because you are what you eat! This philosophy governed what was used for cooking and also how food was se...

  With all travel plans suddenly cancelled and ‘stay indoors’ being the mantra, virtual walks were a saving grace in 2020, especially as we were still trying to figure out ways to deal with our wanderlust. When Roobaroo walks started their virtual tours, I jumped at the opportunity for some virtual travel in the North of the country and started with Varanasi. Virtual Varanasi One of the most interesting tours I have attended – one interspersed with the sounds of Varanasi – prayers, boatmen’s songs, the local dialect of Hindi, the natter at an adda, About the weavers of the city and the delight of kachoris and tea. The intrigue of the oldest living city of the world enveloping the viewer in this audio-visual treat. All the talks were informative but having spent a few days in Varanasi earlier made this walk both nostalgic and entertaining.     Virtual Doon Valley From the Doon valley walk, I remember the hypnotic stories of ghosts that all good hill towns hav...