Will be right back.

Post as written on 02/02/2010

I am taking a break from this space for some time. It’s not like I don’t feel like writing. I do. I have things to write about. Like my best friend of twenty years who got married. Like R’s birthday plans which got terribly spoiled. Like how I have come to dread going back to the empty house every evening. Like how I don’t like leaving office these days. Like how my immunity system is completely screwed up and how I have become this pale looking girl with dark circles who falls sick every time she decides to have a spoonful of her favorite chicken fried rice.

Yes. You guessed it right. I am in a mood to crib. My mind can’t quite focus on one thing. My thoughts are not happy and exciting. They are not insightful either. I feel selfish and want to wallow in self pity for a while.

And when I realize none of that will ever help me, I’ll come back right here and vent it all out. To my blog. To you, my readers.

You all still would be here, no? Yes?

*Sniff*

For my grandmother.

Post as written on 28/01/2010

I can’t stop thinking about you. Every time I close my eyes I see your face. I hear your determined voice. I can almost feel the warmth of your touch. Sometimes I break into a smile when I think of the way I used to lie beside you and tell you of my adventures. The way you stroked my hair when I used to put my head on your lap, the way you stood up for me, the way you would wait for me to come home after a long day, the way you would wait  at the table while I ate. Yes. I think of all that and more.

With every passing day, I know I am losing you a little bit. You are going a little further away. I can see that your face has shrunk, your voice has lost the strength, the eyes have become blank. I know that you are tired. Tired of fighting, of being strong, of living on medication. Tired of taking care of everyone and making things alright. I know, you want to go. Somewhere far far away from here.

If it were in my hands, I would change a thousand things. I would make everything better for you. I would want you to feel no pain. I would let you go now. You have fought too long a battle. You have had too many hurdles to cross and too many people to take care of. You have won. It is your time to rest. To be at peace. And you will be, I promise. It will be over soon. You will be with the one you have loved so dearly, the one who left you too early but for whom you have gone on for so long.

I am crying now and I probably forever will when you go away. But then, I will always hope of seeing you someday and lie down with my head on your lap one more time.

As long as I have one hope, like you said, I will always do just fine with my life.

On Calcutta.

Mild winter breeze. Grey skies.

Overbearing crowds.

Traffic snarls. The eight minute wait at a traffic light.

The bells of cycle rickshaws. And the horns.

The CNG autos. The low floored buses.

The mouth watering rasogolla at the neighbourhood sweet shop.

The familiar smell of warm toast in the morning. The tinkle of a spoon against a tea cup. “You still prefer black?”

The endless fish curries. The waiting for biriyani.  The mutton rolls.

The plans changed. Times not kept.

The doorbell ringing in the morning. “Didi, aajkey oi baari tey ki hoyechhey jano? ” (“Do you know what happened in the other house this morning?”)

The news bulletins on Jyoti Basu. The heated discussions on politics, ideals and beliefs.

The new literature festival. The book fair missed.

Smiles, laughters.

The walks around a park. The life that seems a little troubled. A friend’s shoulder. A patient hearing.

Evenings spent with relatives. Neighbor’s lives. Gossip. Smirks. Laughters again.

Shawls and sarees. Kashmir emporium. New Market.

Sitting by the side of a mighty river. Staring out into the open.

Dreams had. Deams lost.

Peace. Home. Hope.

Heartache. Soulmate. Best friend.

Calcutta.

On mush.

So. I am going to pick up R from the airport now. Have not seen him this last week. And will not see him for the greater part of the coming two weeks. And yes, we have been together for some three years now. But, but. I have a funny feeling in my tummy and a slight flutter in my heart.

Found this and had to put it up here!!

*BLUSH!!!*

On a day like this.

You know those days at work when just CANNOT concentrate. When you stare at a document full of information in front of you and your mind keeps wandering elsewhere. When you keep jumping from Gmail to Facebook to Twitter and back to Gmail and think of a thousand and one things to write!

*Sigh*. I am having just that kind of a day. I have my planner open on my desk, a book on a very serious issue and relevant print outs. But I have not looked at them once. I have been on Gmail and Facebook and you know the works.

So. In the course of all that hopping I came across this. And then this. Found it very funny and thought I should post the link here. So that, you know. Its already Thursday. And we all get a little fidgety on Fridays…

Have a good weekend you guys.

On being angry and taking a stand.

The former Haryana DGP SPS Rathore has said that the smile that he sported after walking out of the court upon being convicted of molesting 14 year old Ruchika Girhotra was inspired by Jawaharlal Nehru.

Yes, that is what he has said.

I am shaking with anger. Or maybe its blind rage. I do not know. I am certainly not in a frame of mind to write how outrageous this is and how disgusting it is to have a public servant such as him in our country. No. I cannot write a discourse on all that. For God’s sake I can’t even type properly. I had to rush to the washroom in the office to hide the angry tears that had started to pour out.

But today with the familiar taste of bile in my mouth, I make a decision. I will fight. I am resolved to fight. For each and every person who has gone through what I have in my life. I don’t know if I will bring them justice or undo what has been done to them. But fight I will for sure. Till every ounce of strength is sucked out of me.

My wounds are still raw. It is open war for me now.

Hilarious…

This column from the New Yorker made my day today. I almost fell off my half broken chair at work laughing my a** off.

You can read it here in the New Yorker. Or right here where I am reproducing it. Wherever it is, do read it. And tell me if you can connect with it. I can. I can totally see myself with that wet dishcloth cooling my hot face. Read on ahead to see what I am talking about!

“The cursing Mommy cooks Italian- Ian Frazier

Chop chop chop chop chop chop chop chop chop chop chop chop chop chop chop chop chop chop chop clatter chop skitter crash bang—FUCK!

Stir stir stir stir stir stir stir stir stir stir stir stir stir stir stir stir stir stir stir stir skid bang skitter bang crash—SHIT!

Hello. For those of you who don’t know me, I would like to apologize for my brief outburst there at the beginning, but I am the Cursing Mommy, and occasionally I do blurt curses, break crockery, give people the finger, and hurl objects to the floor. Well, all I can say about that is, anyone who can make a Bolognese sauce and not get a bit flustered has my heartfelt admiration! I expect we’ve seen the last of that behavior today, however, as I turn to one of my favorite dishes, a delightful and relaxing seafood risotto in the Venetian style.

Whipping up a risotto is a marvellous way to give a sense of occasion to an intimate dinner party, because of the careful timing that is required, and the pinpoint attention to detail right up to the moment of serving. If done correctly, every risotto will be unique, its own irreproducible concoction. That’s the fun of a risotto, you see! In order to pull off this feat of cookery, the chef must be completely relaxed, and to that end I like to start with a robust Chianti such as I am pouring here, forestalling any necessity of immediate repouring by using an ample glass like this snifter-type thing in which my ten-year-old recently brought home two goldfish after some kind of a project at his school. (Don’t ask me where the goldfish are.) A little more than halfway full should be fine.

At some point in your past, all of you have no doubt been under pressure to prepare a dinner party in which everything is really special and “just so.” As it happens, that is the very situation I find myself in tonight, when the party will be for only six—two other couples besides Larry and myself. The men are both clients of Larry’s, and Larry, who is as a rule somewhat worried, anxious, and useless when it comes to almost anything, has been talking rather wildly about how he’s going to be fired and we’ll end up on the street. I know, and you know, that this is another of Larry’s whiny manipulations that his mother was always dumb enough to fall for and I’m not, but, in any case, this dinner party seems to be sort of mandatory, which means the risotto had better be up to par. Now, you may ask, will Larry himself be around during the preparations for this important dinner party?

Well, actually, no. Larry will not—beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-

As you see, when I set out to make a delightful seafood risotto à la vénitienne, I always like to get off on the right foot at the very beginning by HAVING THE FUCKING GODDAM SMOKE DETECTOR GO OFF!!! Fucking goddam piece of useless stupid garbage—what could have set it off? The steam from the fucking dishwasher? beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-

Thankfully, this is nothing I can’t deal with, because I have learned in past encounters with this lousy piece-of-shit smoke detector that although I cannot turn the fucking thing off once it starts, because it is the ridiculous battery-less kind or something, all I have to do is stand on a chair, remove it from its ceiling-attachment thing, and take it down to the basement, as you observe me doing now. Then I simply place the smoke detector here in the corner, and bury it under an enormous heap of bedding near where my son has his TV. beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-

Ah, that’s better. . . . No, it’s not. Because, as I stand here once again in the kitchen, I notice that the stupid fucking smoke detector can still be heard. The sound is faint, but definitely still quite annoying, and enough to distract me, or any skilled cook, from the concentration necessary to pull off a high-maintenance dish like risotto. Luckily, though, I have just the solution for that: my Three Tenors CD, which I was planning to play anyway! I’ll put on the Three Tenors, let them take me to sunny Sicily or wherever the hell, and drown the fucking smoke detector the hell out. Larry’s new CD player, which I have already plugged into the kitchen outlet here—is there a CD already in it? why won’t it open?—if I push this—no—fucking goddam stupid Larry can’t even get a CD player that works—beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-

All right—you know what I am going to do? I’m going to drain off the last little bit that’s left in my snifter, pour myself a nice big refill, imagine a lovely and relaxing tropical vacation scene, and scream “FUCK!” at the top of my lungs. Then I am going to go back down to the basement, get one of Larry’s hammers, and “disable,” as they say, the smoke detector. Meanwhile, I will leave some onions browning in a skillet here on the left front burner so as to have a head start on my risotto when I return.

[Pause.]

beep beep beep beep beep CRASH SMASH CRUNCH POP SMASH beep

With that little detour behind us, we can now proceed to the preparation of the lovely bits of fresh seafood—the shrimp, squid, and snow crab—which we are going to add to the risotto when the time is right. I begin by giving the seafood a thorough cold-water rinse, like so, and then—beep be…e…e…p, bip—

What was that? bee bee beep beep, bip, b’b’b’b’, beeeeeeee. . . .

Those of you who have followed this column for any length of time know that once in a while, at moments of extreme frustration, the Cursing Mommy gets so totally fucking fed up that she starts to scream curses, say what a stupid fuckhead that fuck Dick Cheney was, and generally let off a good cursing out all around. But now the Cursing Mommy is older and wiser, and she’s not going to do that today . . . unless . . . what’s that smell? Was that stupid smoke detector trying to tell me something? JESUS CHRIST, THE FUCKING BURNER UNDER THE ONIONS HAS SET THE PAPER TOWELS ON FIRE! OH, GOOD GOD! THE WHOLE FUCKING ROLL IS GOING UP! NOW THE CURTAINS ARE ALSO ON FIRE!! Oh, where’s that fire extinguisher? Behind the basement door? Yes! Thank God! But what is this pathetic drizzle it’s spraying? AHH! I’LL HAVE TO SMASH THE FIRE OUT WITH THE EXTINGUISHER ITSELF! smash smash smash shatter smash crash crush shatter smash

[Pause.]

After a vigorous session in the kitchen, I often like to relax and recharge by taking what I call a “mini vacation,” as I’m doing now. I simply recline on my back on the kitchen floor with my feet in the bottom tier of my cookbook shelves, my head propped against the useless spent fire extinguisher, and a clean dish towel, moistened with cool water, across my forehead and eyes.

Then I drift away in my mind to some far-off place and take some deep breaths to expel the remaining acrid and possibly toxic smoke from my lungs. Let Larry deal with this shit when he gets home. He can call Gianelli’s for takeout and put it on whichever one of our credit cards still works. I’m not even going to think about it. I would look forward to a future when we will be living in our car if I thought it meant that then I wouldn’t have to cook, but you know what? I will still have to cook. . . . O.K., I know people are coming. In just a minute I’m going to get up. beep…beep…beep…beep…beep

Oh, what a fucking terrible day this has been.

_______

Look for the Cursing Mommy’s next column, “Get Out of My Fucking Lane, You Fuck: Defensive Driving Tips from the Cursing Mommy,” which could be along pretty soon, depending. ♦”

On an answer found

This last Sunday I made mutton curry at home. (Yes, that is an achievement in itself and achievement so significant that I had to use that as the opening line for my post!). Now, the mutton curry was good and we finished every last drop of the gravy with generous amounts of rice. R went to the bedroom shortly after that, slipped under a quilt, let out a big sigh and said “marital bliss”. With a smile that lit up his sleepy face.

Even though I kissed him and tucked him in nice and warm, it got me thinking. Thinking deep. Is this what marital bliss is about? A good meal and an afternoon siesta? What about the bigger things? Things that have more meaning? Shouldn’t they be a part of the marital bliss first? (It becomes imperative to mention here that at that point in time I still had not figured out what “bigger” things could constitute marital bliss but I was sure that there were “bigger” things).

Two days later. I came back from office freezing in the wind chill and promptly sprinted my frozen behind to the warm bedroom and slipped under the quilt after having changed into more comfortable clothing. I whined about how cold it is and how I do not want to get out of bed. Come dinner time R went and heated up the dinner, stacked everything on a tray, got it to the bedroom, waited patiently till I finished, took back everything again and came back to tuck me under the quilt. Oh! And kept a water bottle on the bed side table. As I lazily disappeared under the comforter, I smiled and said to myself “marital bliss”.

And right there, under my quilt on a cold Tuesday night, I found my answer!

This year…

…Is over. It has gone by without too much hue and cry. No earth shattering events have happened in my life. And although I am a year older now I don’t think I have become any wiser. but there are things that I have learnt. Some things that I believed in have been reaffirmed. I know now that there are times when you feel like an alien in your country and that does not make you a snobbish foreign return chick. It is only human. I know it is possible to resign strictly on ethical reasons. It is possible to walk out on a job that earns you a fat pay check when your boss tries to grasp your hands at every given chance and tries to call you “Paro” at every given opportunity. It is possible to control your anger through deep breaths when he threatens to use his contacts to make sure you do not get a job at any decent possible.

Yes, all that is possible.

It is also possible to take a pay cut, increase the commute time and fall in love with your job. It is possible to find people who work for a cause they believe in and stand up for the same.

Yes. That’s possible too.

I know my mother can take every single burden off my shoulders. Very easily. Just by her sheer presence. I also know now how important it is to have parents-in-law who accept you completely for what you are. Sans the sindoor, the bangles, the saree/ salwar kameez, the cooking and house management skills.

I know all that now.

I have realized that marriage is a very simple thing. If you marry the right person for the right reasons.

Yes. It is true.

I also realize that I am still in Delhi because of the friends I have here. It is because of the crazy times I have with them, because I can fall back on them, I can laugh with them, laugh along when they laugh at me, sing and dance with them. It is because they have called me a friend in return and have stood by me through thick and thin. It is because I would live another day just to get one more day with them.

Yes. Friendship can be very strong.

And no. I do not have any new year resolutions. I have never had any. Except the one time when I promised to study very hard and clear all my papers for my terminals in the XI. I failed miserably in my resolution. Needless to say, I failed miserably in all my term papers as well. So. I hope I do not have to take any more atrocious science exams ever in my life again. No maths, no chemistry lab to worry about and feeling lost in physics practicals. Well, I still cal deal with feeling lost. But not the physics practicals. And barring those I think I can pretty much take on what the year has to offer.

How does this last day of the year look for you? Any thoughts?

And Happy New Year to you all. You have been such a support for me.

On staying calm…

You know what they say about a duck being calm on the surface and paddling furiously underneath?

My God! Am I paddling or what???