Perks of being alone

Solitude.

They call it.

Self discovery.

I call it.

My parents are on a trip to Thailand. Honestly, I thought I’d just sit at home and crib, cause they had gone to a beach. A BEACH! I love beaches. I love the water. I love diving. And I love Thai food.

But I didn’t crib. Instead, I’ve been enjoying myself tons.

And as I lie in my cozy yellow blanket while writing this, I reminisce one amazing experience I had a few evenings back.

I had a super hectic day at college. Running around all day for some documents, studying, finishing off some internship assignments, some applications. It was insane. I had decided to cook that evening and try my hand at making some stir fry. Though I was too tried at the end of it, I decided to still cook.

The vegetables were (thankfully) already chopped. Just put some light music on and cooked the stir fry. It turned out pretty good actually. First off, I was surprised that it was edible! :P

I love vegetables. They just have this charm that no meat can ever have. Their vibrancy, range of flavour, textures are so diverse and delicious! Looking at that brownish paneer, mushroom, green beans, dark caramelized onions and bright yellow bell-pepper just made me so happy! I placed my veggies in my dear Indigo bowl.

And then I just got my next passion- my camera, out of my cupboard. On my favourite Manual mode, I just clicked that tiny bowl from every single angle one could possibly think of.

Then I just poured myself some coke and sat comfortably on my favourite spot.

My favourite spot is the window in my Baba’s room. It has refreshing wind caressing your face, and tress swaying and almost smiling at you. I sat there, with all lights switched off, and my food in my hand. I played a list of my favourite songs, and here’s how few lines just touched me:

1)     Kho gaye hum kahan, rangon sa ye jahan.

(Baar Baar Dekho)

Well, I know that raat mein rang nahi hote. But thats what I saw that day. Raat ke rang. Those lights-yellow, red, white. The black sky, a little less black in some places and darker in some others. Raat bhi rangeeli hoti hai, shayad hum hi use nazarandaaz kar dete hai.

2)     Har saans mein ek alfaaz hai, phir kyu na kaafi ye ehsaas hai.

(Theher, Rahul Bhardwaj)

Every breath we take, every moment we live, says something for us/about us. And if we realize this, then we can speak to ourselves even without uttering words.

3)     Jo khayalon pe pehre daale vo aankhein hai kahan

(Aazadiyan, Udaan)

People may mock us for our decisions, behaviour or for literally anything. But they can’t mock our khwab or dreams. And thats the power of our dreams. Nobody can control them, they don’t have any surveillance. Its just our soul, our rooh which guides us to a better tomorrow.

4)     Jab lage, har ghadi ke ab iss raat ki na hai subah koi, kar yakeen dekh tu ke aaftaab vo haseen hai chupa yahin kahin

(Aaftaab, The Local Train)

When you feel low, when everything is dark, we just need to remember that after every night there is morning. And after dark moments are always the bright ones.

5)     Khwabon ko kyu baandhe naseeb?

(Believe, When Chai Met Toast)

Destiny, they say is what rules our lives. I don’t agree. Our dreams don’t deserve to be bound. Not by destiny, not by people. Not by anything.

And of course….(Niyatee I know u are smiling)

6)     Mai peeli sehar ka nasha hoon.

(Saansein, Karwaan)

This is just my all-time favourite line and just makes me feel good ALWAYS. The writer, Prateek Kuhad calls himself ‘peeli sehar ka nasha’ i.e. that nasha, that euphoria which we experience when we see a sunset. He is that euphoria. And I believe we all are.

A letter to Bharat

Dear Bharat,

                              Who are you? Where do you reside?

Are you the politician who screams ‘temple’ in every speech, but stays silent when the temple of humanity is demolished? Or are you the celebrity who rants about rape on Twitter but promotes rape culture in his movies? Are you the innocent soul who walks on the road of danger with a burning candle in her hand? Or are you the journalist who is so immersed in his duty towards a political party, that he has forgotten what news is?

The nation wants to know,

Are you the parent who covers up your daughter to protect her? Or are you the one who doesn’t teach your son what it means to respect someone’s integrity? Are you the village elder who screams that rape mein ladki ki bhi utni hi galti hoti hai?

Are you a macho man or a crying woman? Is your forehead painted saffron, rainbow or tricolor? Are you the invisible eyes seeing the length of skirts and sleeves? Or are you the punctured humanity which walks the streets at night?

Oh my dear bharat,

Wake up. Ignite the candle of your thoughts, not of your social media posts.

You are strength. You are power. You are diversity. You are unity.

You are one colour, that is humanity.

Empower yourself. Educate both your sons and daughters.

And do it soon.

For your humanity is being raped, minute by minute, daughter by daughter.

Haanji, gulab jamun ki sabji banti hai.

Gulab jamun. Those fried dough balls dipped in the super sweet chashni are just to die for. Some enjoy this delicacy with ice cream, others with rabri, and some as it is. But have you ever wondered how gulab jamun would taste in a sabji? Difficult to imagine, isn’t it? But a dish in Rajasthan does this job for you! The Gulab Jamun ki sabji from Jodhpur is an absolutely delicious and unusual take on this sweet, and adds a new dimension of flavours to it.

A savoury gulab jamun, with a rich gravy, this dish is quite popular in the Jodhpur region. It is one of the most delicious vegetarian Rajasthani delicacies.

The Gulab jamun balls are made with khoya and maida. Sometimes, to add a more savoury flavor, paneer is used.  To add some richness and typical Rajasthani flavor, sometimes rose water is added too. Like the usual gulab jamun, these are then fried till golden brown. These are not dipped in the sugar syrup (chashni).

The gravy is actually a typical yogurt-based gravy. The special thing about this recipe is the use of desi ghee, which makes it extra yummy and adds a special desi touch to it. The main ingredients in the gravy include onions, ginger garlic paste and curd. The spices are the usual cumin, red chilli, dhaniya, haldi, garam masala, lemon juice and some fresh coriander leaves as a garnish. If you like the tangy tomato, then you can add some tomato puree too. The spices, along with some maida are typically whisked into dahi.

There are a lot of variations in this recipe. Some like the usual yogurt curry, others like the tomato-onion gravy, and some like cashew gravy, which is quite rich. So it depends on you which one you like, and you can accordingly use that one.

This dish is closest to kofta perhaps, but it has khoya and so it is richer. These balls are still slightly sweet. The Gulab Jamun ki sabji is a great way to experiment with gulab jamun. It will definitely add a new take on this dish. So enjoy this lovely dish soon!

Butter Chicken ki kahani

Butter chicken. Buttery, creamy, a bit tangy at times, with the right mix of spices, served with succulent and soft pieces of chicken. I absolutely love it. Don’t you? But have you ever wondered where it even came from?

Butter chicken was born in Old Delhi around the 1950s. Tandoori food and kebabs were highly popular in Delhi at this time. The succulent chicken and mutton kebabs, marinated in a unique blend of spices, and cooked to perfection, were savored by almost every single person from Delhi. The marinate of these kebabs was a mixture of spices like garam masala,jeera, coriander, chilli powder, tej patta, salt and pepper. This mixture of spices was rich in flavor and gave these kebabs their strong flavor.

One fine day, a restaurant owner decided to mix the leftover flavourful marinade with some tomato puree and loads of butter and cream. Hence our dearest, most favourite butter chicken was born. It was eaten either with naan or the paper-thin roomali roti. The owner didn’t know that he had invented what is arguably the most well-known Indian dish over the globe.

Now, the chicken is marinated in lemon juice, dahi, and spices which also include the ginger-garlic paste. The chicken was earlier cooked in a tandoor, like a kebab, but now it may be grilled, roasted or even pan fried. The gravy is a mixture of tomato puree which is spiced and cream and butter are also added. The gravy is simmered until smooth and until much of the water has evaporated. Sometimes, kaju paste is also used to thicken the gravy. The spices of the dish vary with the region.

Butter chicken may have been born in Old Delhi, but now it is a dish that India and the whole world loves. It is almost impossible to imagine a life without butter chicken. Butter chicken is everything we Indians love, butter, cream, chicken and fat. Kudos to this lovely dish!

Me-cut

As I came out of the salon, I was shocked. My stunning, silky shoulder brown length hair were all chopped off. And I was left with a ‘boy cut’ and some curly strands, which lingered over my forehead.

I had told the barber was just told to trim them, but he did this. And now when I look back, I realize how thankful I am to him.

From the next day, a new journey began. Many people, my close friends, some of my teachers and my parents loved the haircut. They said it made me look really smart.

But others had negative comments.

“Oh you look like a boy!”

“You looked so much better in your long hair!”

“They’ll grow back soon, right?”

“Poor girl, don’t worry, you’ll look pretty once they grow back!”

All these comments hit me harder than the positive ones. My confidence really went down initially. I couldn’t peacefully go for evening walks, or even to school. All those comments seemed cruel, and affected my confidence in myself.

But with time, it all changed.

I realized how important it is to believe in yourself.

It has been two years since I got this haircut, but I learn something new from it every single day. I never thought that something as simple as a haircut would teach me so much. The comments, the mocking used to really trouble me earlier, but with time my resilience has fought back. For me, it has never been a haircut. It’s a symbol to represent myself. And it’s a symbol for everything I stand for. Keeping this haircut for such a long time has taught me to fight. It gives me willpower to stand up for myself. Now, when I get those glares, those comments, I just smile. For I don’t care anymore. Infact, all those comments and mocks make me stronger. They give me the boost to stay the person I am, and keep believing in myself. The society wants me to be how they please, but I have learnt over time that its about you. Its about being the you who pleases you, and standing up and fighting for that You.

I am not a rebel, I am just another girl who wants to be herself.

I am not a girl with a ‘boy-cut’, for haircuts don’t have genders. I am just a girl with a ‘me-cut’.  I realize now that those tiny strands that linger over my forehead aren’t strands of hair. They are strands of every little ideal I stand for. They are strands of me. And nobody can grow or cut them. Except me.

Mystory

The clinking sound of footsteps on the iron staircase echoed in my ears, but the sound of my excitement persisted. Those eager murmurs on the first day of third grade made it even louder. A new class, new teacher, new friends, and most importantly, new subjects! Third grade was the first year we got to study History & Civics and Geography.

Before third grade, history had been all about watching TV shows about Jhansi ki Rani or Chandragupta Maurya, with the extravagant sets, sharp swords, powerful dialogues and glorious fights. And the whole idea of studying more about these legends made me very enthusiastic. I knew I wouldn’t just read about them, but my imagination would take me to them, sometimes clad in the same saree as Lakshmibai, other times as Queen Victoria perhaps.

Miss Kelkar walked into the class. Her jet black, long hair was tied elegantly into a lot plait. Her simple blue and purple salwar-kameez complemented her deep brown eyes and little black bindi perfectly. She came in, introduced herself, and told us to remove our history textbooks. I opened my textbook to the first chapter, and it was called ‘What is history?’. We learned basic terms like historian, archaeologist, inscriptions, emperors, etc. And then began a journey back in time, a journey to the past, which I live in the present.

I travelled to so many lands in that one year. Colonial India, Ashoka’s peaceful empire, Shah Jahan’s , stunning Taj Mahal site, all were covered in one year itself. 

Further, I came a veteran traveller to the lands of the past. I bathed in the Great Bath, sat in Tutankhamun’s court, traded along the Silk Route, and even saw the Code of Hammurabi right before my eyes. I attended a session in the diwan-e-aam, walked in the Dandi March with Gandhi, heard Nehru’s Tryst with destiny and even saw the bloody partition of my nation.

I have come a long way from words like historian, archaeologist, inscriptions and emperors. Words such as power, perspective, revolution and society have become a more significant part of history for me.

History evolves. Just like we all do. History also has a future. A future of the past, a future of the rich customs, traditions and culture of the past. We need to revive that past. We need to learn from it. We need to put it into current perspective to understand contemporary issues. The true essence of history isn’t the extravagant palaces or fancy costumes of the past. It is the rather lessons. Lessons from past mistakes, from the rich societies of the past, from how we have become who we are today. History teaches us why some are rich, some poor, some unequally treated and some specially treated. Once we understand the ‘why’, we need to look for the ‘how’ and identify solutions to solve such loopholes in the society. Not just the Indian society, but each and every society in the world faces some or the other social, political or economic issue. I want to study history as a solution, as a source which explains the root cause of the issue.

I want to read the story of the dead and derive morals for the living.

Poison

Stranded in the vast,

Ocean of thoughts,

I am.

The boat of acceptance glares at me.

Attracts me to its comfortable,

Well-supported self.

The relaxation of not trying,

Just accepting,

Attracts me.

But fear overtakes desire,

And turns into a state of fascination,

As I see the thin white paper boat on my left.

Not strong enough to bear the ocean currents alone,

It strives to float somehow.

For its willpower is strong enough to stay there.

I swim to it,

Mesmerized by its simplicity yet strong demeanour.

As I lift it,

I see two golden words written there,

‘Be yourself’,

It says.

And it talks to me.

“Run away from the boat of acceptance,

For it will gulp your uniqueness.

Run behind who you strive to be,

Not who others want you to be.

Be the golden sunlight,

Or the dancing daffodils,

Be the fresh blue sky,

Or the grey clouds.

Be who you want to be.

Embrace your soul,

And don’t let the poison of acceptance contaminate your pure self.”

And since that day on,

I am me,

Uncontaminated by the comfortable acceptance.