4 Reasons Why I didn't Update My Blog: A Self-introspection

I know it has been quite awhile since my last post; five full months actually – not a very good thing either for the blog or me. In spite of a good friend, Manoj Sethi's umpteen coaxing, I didn't write!

If you ask me what kept me away from the writing for so long, then honestly, I do not have a correct answer. Yes, office work took up most of my weekdays and sometimes even my weekends.

I don’t want to go to School

June came and so started a new academic year. For Panshul however, everything was new – new class, new people, new schedule, new bag, new water bottle, new tiffin box, some new concepts (ID card) because PANSHUL WAS GOING TO A NEW SCHOOL. AGAIN!

Yes, this is the fourth school that Panshul is attending in two years. Why did that happen? Well, simply because he’d go to a school and either he would not get adjusted there and so I’ d stop sending him or we’d move house and so Panshul would have to change schools.

Well this year I decided it would be the end of constant school changes and moving. Having decided that, I chose Euro Kids pre-school for Panshul simply because this school was located just a few houses away from my house.   

After orientation session and welcome day class, the school finally opened formally about a fortnight ago. And with that started Panshul’s anxiety, fear and insecurity at having to leave me behind and be all alone (all the teachers, helpers, and other kids; however sweet and kind they may be, they were not his AMMA – so he detested them) in that big building called school.

This meant that every day I had to find new ways and means to get him to school. I had to tell and do convincing (and trust me, convincing a want-to know-it-all toddler is not easy) things in order to make going to school interesting.

Here’s a list of things that I tried over the days and failed:

Changed our walk-to-school route so that I could show him something interesting (a new flower, a Nano car, a broken auto rickshaw) and somehow get his mind off school.

Result – when I turned at the cross where his school was located, he was adamant that we go further and leave the school behind. He pulled and begged me to take him away. I picked him up, he slid down and ran away. I and the school’s watchman had to run after him to catch him! My heart broke seeing him in such agony!

Downloaded e-books and rhymes about going to school – Llama, Llama Missing Mama, The Kissing Hand, My First Day In School etc.

Result – Panna loved watching the rhymes, but the stories bored him. I am clueless now.

Played with him the entire morning till it was time for school at 11:30 am.

Result – he wouldn’t stop playing till the last minute and coaxing and forcing him to come take a bath became a herculean task. I am at my wits ends.

Spoke to him about why he needs to go to school (so that he can become a big boy and ride his dad’s bike!) and how much fun school is and ASSURED and REASSURED him repeatedly that I’ll be back to pick him up after school gets over.

Result – all the talking was effective only at home. Though he seemed fine and understood every word that I told him, it all went sliding down his cheeks as tears when the school gate approached and I had to leave him! Heartbreak again. Seriously, why do kids have to go to school!?

Made simple crafts (bracelet, clock etc) for him to take to school.

Result – this kind of worked. Since Panna loved ‘doing things’ he joined me in making the crafts. This kept him occupied and made his mornings interesting and fun. Yet, Panna cried when I left him at the school gate and the next day he was not interested in any craft making.  Ok, now what?

Acted Silly to the core. Every time he whines and makes a sad face and tells me, “Amma, I don’t want to go to school”, I jump up and down like a clown. That has Panna in splits and giggles.  This way he whole thought about going to school kind of becomes funny. In fact, I had read about getting the kids with anxiety about going to school to giggle and laugh out their anxiety. But I didn’t expect it to work for me. Well I guess it is working.

Result – this is my current strategy. It’s been working for the past two days, let’s see how it progresses. Yay! Panna didn’t cry when I left him at the school gate! But, the constant jumping and acting clownish is bringing back my lower back pain! Ouch, it hurts! 

Remembering Annual Class Photo Sessions. Ready Everyone? Smile Please...Click!

I had my first group photo (class photo) session, way back in 1989, at the age of four at kindergarten in Little Rock Indian School, Brahmavar. Now, 24 years later, my three years old son had his first group photo session at his preschool a few days ago.

On the Big Day I sent him to school dressed in his best (and my favourite) red and white checked shirt and white shorts. But in the hustle and bustle of everyday routine, I totally forgot to ask Panna how the event went and neither Panna nor his teachers say anything about it.

But yesterday (a week after the photo session) I was in for a surprise. When I went to his school, his teacher handed me two copies of the group photo. There was Panna, sitting extreme right in the front row, legs together, palms on his knees, and flashing a cheerful smile. Honestly speaking, given his daily episodes of constant crying at school, I didn’t expect Panna to put up such a happy face at the photos session! Nevertheless, I was happy to see a happily smiling Panna.

But, this group photo of Panna made me nostalgic, bringing back warm memories of the annual group photo or class photo session (as we called it) that would happen in school at around the same time of the year. This was once-in-a-year event and I loved it. In fact I looked forward to it from the time it was announced and its class wise schedule put up.

There were reasons why I loved this annual event. Firstly, we didn’t have a home camera till I was about 11 or 12 and so taking photos and putting them into albums were not a common activity at home. So, having a photo taken, even if it means a group photo at school, was something to cheer about. Plus, the photo would be published in the annual year book and looking for my photo there was one of the many things to do with a school year book.

Secondly, a class photo session means we were supposed to be in our best uniform – properly ironed, matching shades of our coffee brown skirt and jacket, beige shirt, polished brown shoes and beige socks worn up to the knees (I am talking about the girls’ dress code here) – and I loved wearing a ‘complete uniform’ on special occasions like these. It made me feel very sophisticated!

And thirdly, a class photo session means we were surely going to be missing a part of the one of the eight periods and this was fun!!

At Little Rock Indian School, the photo session was the sheer hard work of one man – our art teacher cum school photographer, Mr. Jayaprakash Sir (JP Sir in short). Little Rock had classes from kindergarten to class 12 and with more than five sections in each class. Yet, Jayaprakash sir single handedly took photos of all these classes with his SLR camera. I still remember the exact rituals of the class photo session. It went something like this –

First our class teacher led us to the photo arena (usually the area below the school’s administration office, opposite the kindergarten building). 3-4 benches would be placed in rows parallel to the flowerbed skirting the office building. The front two benches were separated by two chairs (one for the class teacher and one for the head-teacher). While the shorter students were made to sit on the front row benches, the taller ones usually stood behind those seating forming a second row and the rest stood on the benches in the third row.

Once everyone had taken their places, Jayaprakash sir instructed those sitting to keep their legs together and place our palms on the knee (just like Panna did). I guess this is one of the golden rules of a class photo session that applies to all schools and all classes! Those standing had to stand erect or slightly turn left or right.

Once all of us were ready, sir gave us thumbs-up; said smile and clicked! First photo taken, sir would say one more; giving us a few seconds to correct our uneasy (if any) postures and then click another photo. If the photos didn’t come out as well as he would have wanted, then JP Sir asked us to retain our positions until he got the perfect shot. JP sir was very good at his work and it didn’t take him long to get the correct shot, though those of us who wanted to evade going back to class wished the photo session would prolong. If there was ever a delay, it was only when sir changed lenses or there was some issue with the light.

Once the class photo had been taken and we had enjoyed our few moments of basking in the glory of JP Sir’s camera, we waited for the photos to be printed, copies to made and handed to us. All of this would take a few days. But when the photos finally came, we were thrilled. I always kept the photo in my school diary (one of the safest places in my school bag) and took it home. After everyone at home saw and complimented the photo, it was safely tucked into the family album. Then began the long wait for the year book to come along which was only in the beginning of the next academic year in June.

Such is the story of my annual class photo sessions.

And Panna’s class photo? Well, we wanted a soft copy of it and the school didn't have it. So Pavan had the photo scanned and we uploaded it on our Facebook pages, MMSed it to my in-laws and parents and here it is inserted onto this write up too! Of course, the original hard copy photo has been neatly put into the family album.

 March, 2013

March, 1989

So, do you remember your class photo sessions? What memories does it conjure up for you? Feel free to share your story in the comments section.

This blog post first appeared in Daijiworld.com on 4th April, 2013. http://www.daijiworld.com/chan/exclusive_arch.asp?ex_id=2026

Nagappa Special Tea at 11:00 am

My office had a coffee vending machine. And I and my colleagues often made endless trips to the enticing machine to get varieties of tea and coffee.  

Well, the greatest advantage of this vending machine was that it was always there for us; whenever we felt the need for a beverage, be it at 9 am, as soon as we reach office, at 1 pm as we head into a meeting; postponing lunch, at 5 pm chai-time with friends or just before heading home at 7 pm. Also, the vending machine gave us the luxury of choice. We could have Latte, Espresso, Mocha, Ginger Tea, Lemon Tea, Masala Tea, Soup etc. And of course, for me, the mere presence of the vending machine and its constant buzz was a reminder to take a break from my otherwise break-free thinking and writing.

So, a coffee vending machine in the office is always a good company to have.

Then suddenly one day, the good old machine was gone. I haven’t bothered to find out why and how, but what I do know for sure is that no coffee machine meant no more unlimited coffee breaks and definitely no varieties of coffee and tea!

Nagappa Special Tea sitting pretty on my desk

However, luckily for us, in place of the vending machine, we now have Nagappa - the polite and extremely humble watchman cum care taker of the three-storied building where my office is located to serve us tea and coffee. Nagappa prepares tea and or coffee twice a day – at 11 am and at 3 pm. Of course, it’s just one type of tea or coffee that he serves – the Nagappa special. But no one is complaining.

We all simply love the tea that he prepares. I like it so that every day by 10:30 am, I start craving for Nagappa’s tea. Soon, I hear delightful sounds from the pantry – of glasses being washed, stove being lighted and cups being arranged on the tray, which reassure me that my favourite tea is on the way.

In no time, Nagappa is beside my chair, with a faint smile on his face and holding a cup of tea.

Tea thagolli madam (Take your tea, madam) he says and hands me that delicious cuppa. I thank him; he nods, appreciating my gratitude and then goes to my colleagues.

One sip of that wonderful mixture and its an absolutely bliss!

What makes Nagappa’s tea so special is that it has all the right ingredients in the right quantities – lots of tea leaves, a little milk and water, just the right quantity of sugar. It is brewed perfectly that served with utmost humility.

Nagappa’s 11 am tea makes my day. Every day.

Thank you Nagappa.

Prawns Sukka – My Style

I love prawns. Who doesn’t?

And I love prawns in all its form – curry, fried, cutlets, Manchurian, fried rice and most of all the Sukka (dry curry). I also love dried baby prawns chutney and dried baby prawns curry!

So, last Sunday when I went to the fish market I was delighted to see two large basketfuls of white prawns – fresh and succulent. I immediately decided the menu – Prawns and Spinach Curry with Mackerel Fry and bought half a kilo of prawns and 3 large Mackerels.

When I came home my gastronomic husband was delighted to see the fresh sea food and started having cravings for all things prawns. Yes, I am married to a lover of prawns! So, when I told him what the menu for lunch was, he changed it to suit his palette and satiate his cravings. His menu was this – Mackeral Curry and Prawns Sukka.

It was a good menu and I love Prawns Sukka, but there was a slight problem. I was terribly short on onions and tomatoes – two ingredients very essential for preparing a nice Sukka. Nevertheless, I decided to go ahead and prepare the Sukka without the two core ingredients. The tanginess of the tomatoes can always be created using lots and lots of tamarind paste. For the sweetness of the onions, I decided to use the natural sweetness of the fresh prawns by stir frying it for some time and get the delicious prawns to release its natural sweet flavors.

And there was a magic ingredient – the Sukka Powder. It was a spice mix that my aunt taught me. This spice mix has such a spicily earthy flavour that it can accentuate any dish. I use it a lot when I’m preparing chicken, prawns or clams Sukkas and also in Potato, Mushroom or Cauliflower sabjis.

So here goes the recipe to Prawns Sukka Sans Onion and Tomato.

Ingredients:

White Prawns (peeled and cleaned) – ½ kg

Turmeric Powder – 1 teaspoon

Jeera Powder – ½ tea spoon

Red Chilli powder – 1 tea spoon

Tamarind paste – 4 table spoon (I like a lot of tanginess, so use a lot of tamarind. You reduce or increase the quantity to suit your taste).

Ginger-garlic paste - 1 teaspoon

Grated Coconut – 1 medium bowl. (Sukka is a coastal Karnataka delicacy and like all our dishes, uses a lot of coconut. However, you can replace the coconut gratings with Kopra, thinly cut slices of coconut, 2 tablespoons of coconut milk or completely skip this ingredient. The Sukka will taste well even without the coconut).

Coriander leaves – about a fist full for garnishing

Image coutesy: sashirecipes.com

Salt – to taste

Sugar – 1/2 teaspoon

Oil – 2 tablespoon

Water – 100 ml

Sukka Powder – 4 teaspoons.

Ingredients for Sukka Powder:

Dried red chillies – 15-20

Black pepper corns – 10-20

Cumin seeds (jeera) – 2 tea spoon

Coriander seeds (dhania) – 1 1/2 tablespoon

Dalchini – 1 inch long

Cardamom pods – 2-3

Fenugreek seeds (Methi) – 1 teaspoon

Method

Dry roast all the above ingredients for about 5 mins and grind them into a fine powder in a mixer. Do not use any water. Store the powder in an air tight container. You can use this powder as a taste enhancer in sabjis, dry curries and even in rasams.

Prawns Sukka Method

1. Into a tablespoon of tamarind paste add 1/2 teaspoon of turmeric powder, 1/2 teaspoon of red chilli powder and 1 teaspoon of Sukka powder and mix it well. Marinate the prawns in this mixture for about 15 minutes.

2. Heat oil in a deep pan or kadai, add the ginger-garlic paste and sauté for a minute.

3. Add the remaining Sukka powder, turmeric powder, red chilli powder and stir well for a minute or two.

4. Add the remaining tamarind paste. Stir well.

5. Add the marinated prawns. Mix well.

6. Add the sugar, salt and water and cook on low flame.

7. When the prawns are half cooked, add the coconut gratings and mix well.

8. When the prawns have cooked well and all the water has evaporated, garnish with chopped coriander leaves.

That’s it. Prawns Sukka is ready. It tasted well with Dal-Rice or Appams or Neer Dosas.

Do try this recipe and tell me how well you liked it.

Learning a Lesson in Contentment from Two Villages

Last weekend, on the eve of Makara Sankranthi, we went on a day trip to Innovative Film City, Bidadi in the outskirts of Bangalore. After pondering over whether to take the NICE road or the Shanumangala road, we decided to take the latter because my husband Pavan wanted try a different route and wanted the drive to be a little suspense filled and somewhat adventurous.

Well, the new (for us) route took us thorough some quaint little villages – two of them being Karenahalli and Shanumangala.

Karenahalli was kms from Bangalore and Shanumangala a little further off. The two little villages were actually pretty close to Bangalore, their metropolis neighbor, but they were completely unaffected by the rapid urbanization that Bangalore is witness to. Instead they actually have retained every bit of their true rustic charm.

I did not find any traces of anything city-like in these villages. Of course, we just passed by these villages – merely rode through its few lanes, never really explored it; but I’m sure even if we went on a search for city- influences, we wouldn’t find one. In fact, both Karenahalli and Shanumangala were beautiful – beautiful for their low roofed mud houses, vast green fields, narrow roads, bullock carts, healthy, well fed goats, sheeps, buffaloes and hybrid milch cows, innumerous water bodies and of course the villagers themselves – happy, innocent and busy at work.

That day being the eve of Makara Sankranthi, everyone in the village was involved in making arrangements for celebrating the harvest festival. Men were carrying home bundles of freshly cut sugar canes; the women were either vigorously cleaning and scrubbing the utensils or bathing the cows, bullocks and buffaloes. Some of them were also applying a plaster of cow dung paste to their front yards. The children were simply running about and seeing or hearing our bike approach, would stop their play and watch us pass by. Young girls were making rangoli designs and stringing flowers.

So, why am I saying all this? I mean, isn’t this how villages all over India are?

Yes, but what there is something that struck me when I saw the villagers and their simple way of life – contentment.

The people of Karenahalli and Shanumangala had no luxuries – no duplex houses, no fancy schools, no plush malls, no attaractive restaurants, no weekend getaway destinations. They did not even have proper basic amenities like a hospital or sanitation facilities. But they were happy. Happy with whatever they had – a tiny home, some agricultural land, some cattle and probably a large family. They were happy doing what they knew to do best – plough their fields, harvest crops and rear cattle for milk and wool. That was their life. That was their economy. And they were extremely content with whatever money they earned from this life. I couldn’t but help feel the complete contrast to life in Bangalore or any other urban centers of living.

We, urban inhabitants are never content, are we? We forever complain about the lack of everything –money, better job opportunities, space, water, infrastructure, facilities, essential services and the list goes on.

The problem with us is that we are spoilt for choices. There is so much of everything in the metropolitan cities that we do not know what to pick and what to let go. There are so many residential apartments and plots for sale, so many job offers piling up in your inbox, so many malls, pubs, restaurants and clubs beckoning you, so many buses plying, so many roads, underpasses and flyover, so many super specialty hospitals, so many educational institutions and so much technology at our disposal that we are unable to identify clearly what our wants are.

We are blinded by an insatiable urge to have everything or at least a little more than what currently exist, even if it is beyond our reach.

So, if we have a two BHK house, we still look for a bigger house in a better locality. If we have an Alto, we strive hard to upgrade to a Honda City. If our CTC is 5 lk per annum, we feel we are not getting our worth. We have enough options for entertainment – we have a nice family, we have friends, we have play stations, smart phones, 3D movies; yet we go in search of some “fake cities” (like we did) to have more fun!

Of course, there is nothing wrong in having higher aspirations and ambitions. Dreams and hopes for things better and brighter are always good. They help us set goals and strive hard to achieve it. But why is that our aspirations, our wants are always limitless? Why can’t we exercise restraint over our wishes?

We didn't stop to click photos, but this is how a typical house in  the two villages look like.
Photo Coutesy: panoramio.com

I think we have a lesson to learn from the villagers of Karenahalli and Shanumangala – a lesson in contentment, a lesson in being happy with what we have.

Remembering the Good Old Hande

A Hande is a bathing container and one of the largest utensils you would find in a traditional south-Indian home. It is a huge cauldron that is placed on an earthen stove in the bathroom and used to heat large quantities of water (up to 100 liters or more) for bath.

Made of copper this simple giant of a utensil was the pride of every hold in the good old days of joint families. Then, the women of the house filled the Hande with water at daybreak and lighted its stove using firewood and dried leaves. Soon a fiery fire would blaze, the water would heat up and a Hande-full of hot water would be ready for the entire household’s bath. In fact, the Hande-stove was always kept burning and the water level always kept to the brim until everyone in the house had finished their bath! The extent of heat was such that the water in the Hande remained warm till late afternoon, even after the fire had long died down!

The Hande fixed on a high platform.
Photo courtesy: Sharmila Vinayak

My association with the Hande goes a long way. Ours was a nuclear family, yet our home had a Hande; albeit an aluminum one and smaller in size. And yes, every morning dad filled it with water drawn from the well and mom went about the process of lighting a fire and heating the water. My grandparents’ house had bigger and more than one Handes. But, my maternal grandma’s home had the biggest Hande.

To be honest, when I was little, I was scared of this Hande. Why? One, because it was so big that it towered over my small body and I couldn’t even reach its mouth! Two, bathrooms were poorly lit and the Hande in itself was jet black with soot which created an eerie darkness around the Hande. Three, my older cousins got me to believe that there are creepy creatures like frogs, scorpions and snakes lurking inside the Hande! So every time I had to put my hands into the Hande, I did it very cautiously, taking care not to dip my hands too deep into the water, lest some horrible creature grab my hand and gobble me up!

In spite of all these irrational fears, bathing from the Hande was always an experience in itself. It was a leisurely activity, always soothing on the nerves and relaxing on the muscles. And this experience only became better during festivals, especially Deepavali.

The day before the festival, the Hande was scrubbed and cleaned with a mixture of ash, rock salt and tamarind paste to get rid of the thick soot and make it look like new. In the evening, it was decorated with marigold garlands and earthen lamp designs were painted on its surface. Then, after a short pooja to the well, would begin the ritual of filling the Hande with water amidst the sounds of the crackers, pooja bells, conch and cymbals. After the pooja to it, both the Hande and the water in it were now considered sacred and no one was allowed to use this water till the next morning.

The next morning, on the day of the Deepavali, mom would add Tulsi, Neem and Saaguvani (Teak tree) leaves to the water in the Hande before heating it. These leaves would release its medicinal properties into the water and soon the entire Hande would be filled with a special aroma. Taking large mug-fulls of this special water and indulging in a leisurely oil bath was the best part of Deepavali.

But alas, times have changed. Today Handes are a rarity and found in only very few houses and most among them don’t even make use of it. There are no wells and no firewood available. In the present days of taps and geysers and scare water supply, the Hande has made way for plastic buckets and tubs. In the morning rush, bathing now is only a 5-7 minutes affair and limited to just a bucket-full of water.

I miss the Hande and the Hande Bath. Sob.

Sparrows in My Frontyard

Photo courtesy: Wikimedia Commons

I love sparrows. So does my 3 year old son and his grand dad. I love the Sparrows because they are small and adorable. I love their antics and their pleasing chirps. As a child, I always coaxed dad to read out this particular Russian tale about a Sparrow named Thyupa. Though I cannot recollect the story now, I loved to listen to this story again and again simply because there was a Sparrow in it. So much was the admiration for the Sparrows in our home that, according to a popular family tale, when I was born, dad wanted to name me Chikka-Kuruvi (Malayalam for small sparrow).

Not long ago, these Sparrows (also called House Sparrows) were found everywhere – footpaths bus stands, front yards, gardens, on the roofs of the houses, in front of the flour mills, granaries of grocery shops and any other place that offered them abundant food and shelter.

But sadly today, the Sparrows are a rare sight. Thanks to rapid urbanization and encroachment of large open spaces, individual houses with spacious front yards making way for cramped multistoried apartments, commercial complexes replacing every stretch of available greenery, the Sparrows are fast losing their natural habitat and thus left homeless.

It’s heartening, however, to know that there are many dedicated organizations and individuals working towards saving the Sparrow and restoring its natural habitats. Even more heartening is the fact that in spite of losing their homes, the Sparrows are still found, albeit sparsely, in many towns and even in certain areas within the cities.

My home in Udupi, the coastal town of Karnataka is one such place. A flock of Sparrows live somewhere near our home and they are our regular visitors; coming to our frontyard all throughout the day.

But, they come here for a definite reason – food.

No, we don’t scatter grains of rice or any other pulses/cereals in our frontyard. All that we do is give a plate full of food to our dog, Cookie. And Cookie’s kennel is also in our frontyard. And Cookie never finishes her food! There are always a few morsels of rice, pieces of bread or anything else always in her plate.

So the Sparrows come – exactly at Cookie’s breakfast and lunch time in particular and then, as and when they please, throughout the day, to eat Cookie’s food. First they sit on the Hibiscus shrubs nearby and as they wait, get into a chirpy banter. That’s exactly what they are doing as I write this line. It’s a cacophony of chirps and more chirps in our garden at this moment.

When Cookie is served food, she is let out of the kennel. As she starts eating, the Sparrows slowly and very, very cautiously fly towards her plate, sit a little distance away and wait for Cookie to get engrossed in her food. Then the drama unfolds.

The Sparrows, one by one, will hop – one tiny Sparrow step at a time – to reach Cookie’s plate and then start pecking at her food. You will hear no chirping during this time. When the first Sparrow has picked enough for itself, it will fly to a safe distance (usually near the flower pots or under Dad’s bike) and start eating. Then the second Sparrow takes its turn. In this way, like disciplined soldiers, they wait for their turn to arrive, go to Cookie’s plate without disturbing her in the process, pick up as much food as possible ion their little beaks, fly away and eat to their heart’s content. For me, my 3 year old son and his granddad, it’s a delightful sight.

When the Sparrows first started this routine, it enraged Cookie. She would bark at the Sparrows and even chase them occasionally. But now she has given up. She doesn’t mind the Sparrows presence around her anymore and the brave birds are only too happy about it. Frankly speaking, they were never scared of her at any point of point. In fact, there were times when they would fly into Cookie’s kennel and grab left over tidbits from her plate, even as she looked on.

Finally dad decided to intervene. Now there are two plates near Cookie’s kennel – one for her and another for the Sparrows and food is served separately. Yet, the Sparrows still indulge in their playful antics and peck at Cookie’s food. By the way, they still drink water from a common bowl!

The Sparrows share an unusual bond with Cookie – one built over mutual tolerance for sharing food.

Just an after thought-

Do you know the reason why the Sparrow population is diminishing?

Research has found that the radiations emitted from mobile network towers are extremely harmful for the Sparrows’ health. So, the next time you are faced with poor network, don’t complain. Less mobile towers mean better chances that the Sparrows will survive.

Other reasons include noise pollution (that impairs the adult Sparrow’s hearing of their offspring’s calls for food) and the introduction of unleaded petrol (its combustion kills tiny insects and worms that are the staple diet of young Sparrows). Also, as I pointed out earlier, large present day buildings are not ideal places for the Sparrows to build their nests. They usually prefer narrow spaces and roof corners which unfortunately are never present in modern high rise buildings.

Learn more about Sparrows and the reasons for their declining numbers at:

http://indiacurrentaffairs.org/house-sparrow%E2%80%93-declining-population-kalpana-palkhiwala/

Join others at conserving Sparrows at:

http://www.citizensparrow.in/index.php?r=site/page&view=howto

A Big Compliment from My Little Toddler

I have already told you that I’m not a great cook. I always try to make my dishes taste and look as they are supposed to; but most often than not end up failing at this attempt.

Making Chapattis was no different. Sometimes the dough was too hard, sometimes too soft and on very few times, it was perfect. And on those rare occasions, the chapattis also raised up nicely when I put it on the flame. But the fact is I was never proud of my efforts with Chapattis; nor did I think I was worthy of any compliments.

Until Panshul gave me one!

Yes, kids are amazing you know – they observe and take in everything around them.

Chef Panshul helping me make Banana Milshake

This is what happened – we were watching Doraemon (again!) together. In the commercial break was the Aashirvaad Atta ad, where the mother puts the Chapatti on the flame and it raises immediately to suggest that the Chapatti is absolutely soft, perfectly round and beautifully cooked.

The instant Panna saw that fluffy Chapatti on TV, he remarked delightedly, “Amma-du Chappati haage ala” (That Chapatti is like Mamma’s Chapattis, isn’t it?). That was his way of saying that his Mamma also does soft, round and delicious Chapattis! For me that was enough of a compliment! That one little moment made my day!

I may sound like I’m making a big deal out of a simple statement that a 2 year old said while watching TV, but who doesn’t like compliments and a little pat on the back? And if it’s coming from your son, then it’s the best that can happen to mother, isn’t it?

Innocent Questions

This happened about a month ago when this blog was not yet functional. Now that it is, I’d like to share this anecdote.

It was a lazy evening on a Saturday, but I was working – busy writing content for a client. Panna had just woken up from his afternoon nap and was still in his drowsy, irritable mood. So I asked my husband  Pavan  to take him to the park. The moment I said park, Panna instantly asked me, Amma, Park alli nandu chaddi unta? (Mamma, is my chaddi (all bottom wears, whether a bloomer or a shorts, are all referred to simply as chaddi in my home) in the park?)

Chaddi in the park?

What was he saying I wondered?

Then it dawned on me - the incident that happened the day before – I had put very nice white pajama shorts of Panna to dry on the balcony grill. My Panna, the playful naughty self that he is, in an impulsive instant, threw the said shorts down. It landed four floors below in the parking lot. 

Not having had his fill at throwing the shorts, Panna also wanted to take a look at the fallen shorts and see where it had landed. I picked him up and through the grills showed him the shorts and told him that it is lying in the PARKING LOT and that we’ll pick it up later. The word parking lot – with the park in it – registered in his mind.

And today when I said park, he put 2 and 2 together, associated park with his shorts and asked me that question, Are my shorts there in the park, Mamma?

Pavan and I had a nice laugh over it. Then I told Panna that the Parking Lot Park is different from playing Park. One has cars and bikes standing and the other has swings, see-saws and slides.

He seemed to get it.

“Naav eega Park hoguva“(Let’s go to park Pappa) he said and ran to the door.

Delicately Delicious Anjal (Seer Fish) Rava Fry

Last Saturday, I  prepared this authentic South-Canara specialty – Anjaal (Seer Fish) Rava Fry and Kaane (Lady Fish) Curry for dinner. It is a special favourite in our household and one of the most beautiful and delicious dishes of Coastal Karnataka. My mouth is watering even as I write this!

What makes the dish so tasty? Firstly, its core ingredient – the Seer Fish. It is a richly flakey, fleshy fish that tastes absolutely divine when cooked to perfection with the right amount of spices. Secondly, it’s the process of preparing this delicacy – marinating it with chilli powder, turmeric, salt and tamarind paste, coating it with rava (semolina) and frying it till the fish is tender and juicy.

Frying the fish (whichever it is) is an elaborate ritual in South Canara. Every household has a unique way of doing it – with their own special spices and in their own favored and loved methods – deep fried, tava (pan) fried with rava coating, without the coating etc.

In our home, whenever there was a fish fry to be prepared, it was always kept for the last, after the curry had been cooked, after the rice had been boiled and just before serving the lunch or dinner. Our kitchen was tiny and it had no exhaust fan. Mom heated the tava, rolled the marinated fish in semolina and put it on the tava accompanied by an instant sizzle from the semolina popping in the heat. Depending on the size of the fish, she put 3-4 of it on the tava at one time, did a generous sprinkling of the coconut oil over the fish and waited for it to cook well. When the fish turned golden brown, she’d turn it over, sprinkle some more coconut oil and let it cook well on the other side.

Soon, you could smell that distinctly smoky, spicy aroma of the roasting, dusted in semolina, fish skin many houses away. Mom being asthmatic would always get affected by the heat in the spices and would soon go into fits of coughing. To make matters worse, she would even close the kitchen door and windows, lest our Brahmin landlord get the smell and know that we were cooking fish! (Our landlord, the Ballals were a really kind family and had no issues with us cooking non-veg food; yet Mom for some reason thought they would be offended or we would be doomed if they smelt our fish curries and chicken sukkas!)

But as a die-hard fish lover, that smell – of fresh fish frying on the tava – is superbly beautiful for me. But there are people who detest it and some like my Mom try to prevent it from reaching the noses of those people. And they do it in various ways.

If Mom shut all the doors and windows in the house, hoping that the fishy smell would not leave the house, my husband’s cousin’s family, living in the strictly vegetarian Gujarati society would lock the house and leave as the fishy aroma started emanating from the dishes! How they managed to cook the fish to perfection still remains a mystery to me!

Similar is the tale of an uncle. Living in one of the highly conservative and totally vegetarian societies of Bangalore, they would not just shut all the doors and windows when they fried fish, but also lighted fragrant incense sticks on every window, hoping that the smell from the incense sticks would overpower the smell from the kitchen stove!

You see such is the love for fish fry among the people from Coastal Karnataka and they can go to any length to have it.

OK, now back to Anjaal Fry. Here is how to do it –

Anjaal Fry

Photo courtesy: vegnveg.com

         

Ingredients:

Anjaal (Seer Fish) Pieces – 4-5

Red Chilli Powder – 4 teaspoons

Turmeric powder – ½ teaspoon

Tamarind paste – 1 tablespoon

Salt – to taste

Oil – for frying (preferably coconut oil)

Rava (semolina) – 4-5 tablespoon, for coating the fish

      

Method:

Wash the Anjaal pieces, drain every bit of excess water from it and keep aside.

In a bowl, mix well the red chilli powder, turmeric powder, tamarind paste and salt to make a thick marinating mixture.

Apply this mixture over the fish pieces, coating it on both sides. Let the fish rest for about 15-20 minutes till the fish absorbs the spice-mixture very well.

Heat the tava and smear it with oil. Spread the rava on a plate.

Take one piece of fish at a time, put it on the rava, press gently till the rava sticks well to the fish, turn over the fish and repeat the process.

Now, put the rava coated fish piece on the tava. Place all the pieces of fish on the tava and sprinkle some more coconut oil.

Let the fish cook in medium heat. Once the skin crust turns golden brown, turn the fish over.

When both the sides turn sufficiently golden brown with a cispy crust, your Anjaal Rava Fry is ready.

Up and Down School

My son Panshul has been busy christening things!

We shifted house and I was visiting playschools in the new neighbourhood. Of course, Panna loved all of them and the slides, sand pit, swings, splash pools and the cars and trains in those schools.So he started naming each school that we visited after the best thing that he discovered there - so one school was "Small Car School".

One was “Watchman-Maama School” (because the watchman there played with him while i was taking the school tour).

Another school was "Big and Small Slide School" (named after the many different sized slides that were there)

And the other one was "Up and Down School" (because there was slight ramp-like slope in the premises on which Panna enjoyed running up and down).

And some others were Hippo School or Ladybird School or Lion School or Bee School (based on the bright, big pictures painted on the schools’ walls)

After all this, he gave me a new name too – Po (we have been watching Kung-Fu Panda and its sequels in a loop and Panna named me after the Dragon Warrior!)

I have been busy over the past week writing about brands and branding and here is my son, doing some rebranding!!

So, does anyone want a new name?? Consult Panna!! J

Ordeal With A Simple Sabzi

Just received a claim token from Technorati. Here it is - VR7PNSQ5W82P

I am not a great cook. Occasionally, on really rare days, the dish that I try to cook turns out good and I get compliments for it from my husband. But most days, the dishes that I prepare taste just ok. It is edible alright, but is completely devoid of even an ounce of any ‘wow’ factor. Instead, it is always found lacking or overdone with one or many flavors  It is only on extremely rare occasions that my dishes turn out perfect.

Why am I such a clumsy cook? Because, I do not like to cook. I love to eat good food and watch TV shows on food, but involving me in the act of cooking is something that I do not enjoy much. The everyday cooking that I do at home is done more out of necessity than out of any inclination or likeness to the activity. For me cooking is as boring as any other household chore like seeping and swabbing and washing. It needs to be done, so I do it.

My aunts and mom have constantly told me that I should cook from my heart, but I have failed miserably at it. I just go by the processes of cooking – washing, cutting, sautéing, mixing, steaming etc – very mundanely. Cooking involves exact measures, exact temperatures, exact time limits and many other exacts. However, no matter how hard I try, I almost always get these numbers wrong. Even simple dishes like the everyday sabzi bear the brunt of my poor cooking skills.

As I mentioned earlier, I love to watch cookery shows, including the hugely popular series, MasterChef Australia. One of the most important things that I have learnt from watching these shows is that you have to get all the processes involved in a food preparation just perfect if you want to your food to taste perfect. And this includes getting all the ingredients in the food to combine well and complement one another. They have to reach that physical and chemical state where their natural flavors are released into the dish in order to make it a delectable fare. And only when you smell that beautiful aroma wafting through the air, you know that your dish is perfectly executed.

This rule applies to all the dishes including the simple sabzi. Yet, for some unforeseen reason I get that all so important seasoning (tadka) ridiculously wrong on most days. Being a south Indian, I use udid dal, mustard seeds, green chilies, onions and curry leaves in the seasoning. When the oil heats up and you add the udid dal followed by the other ingredients just before adding the green chilies and onions, there emanates a wonderful woody aroma of the curry leaves and udid dal cooking. That for me is one of the best smells in a kitchen. And this aroma indicates that the seasoning has been just right and it is time to add the onions and green chilies followed by the vegetables. If either of the components of the seasoning does not cook properly, then you do not get that perfect aroma. For me, thanks to my poor cooking skills, I am, almost on all days, eluded from that wonderful olfactory experience. And this is one of my greatest cooking regrets. 

However, there are some rare occasions when the physics and chemistry involved in cooking does the trick for me and everything just falls in place, not by effort, by sheer luck and the food turns out good, even very good sometimes.

Today was one such day and I was cooking the simple cabbage sabzi. I placed the kadai on the stove, put some oil in it, and added the udid dal, mustard seeds and the curry leaves. Soon, the ever eluding wonderfully beautiful aroma wafted from the kadai and reached my nose. This time, I guess, everything had simply fallen in place for me. The oil had heated up just right, the lentils and leaves fried just correct to release their beautiful flavours and aroma.

For me, the chef imperfect that I am, this was a laudable achievement. I’m thrilled and the sabzi tastes good!! Need a spoonful, anyone?