Saying it in monochrome..

7 black & white days and more...

I always felt the world look so much more beautiful, bearable in monochrome of .. black and white. And last 7 days bought me a bit nearer to this love. I ask myself what is it that makes it so endearing.. strangely, in the from of an answer a faint voice another old love of mine started singing in my head.. Keats.
“Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter;
therefore, ye soft pipes, play on..

This has been like a colour detox for me.. the last time I tired anything related to detoxification (10years ago) it lasted for 3 day. There is always one or the other game, quiz or challenge circulating on FB to keep the curious and idle both occupied. Now I am not the one to discuss here; either the importance or silliness of any of those posts and games. But occasional something crops up which ticks me too. The '7 days B&W challenge- no people no explanation' is one of them. Firstly because- the word B&W itself and second of course were the inspiration in form of the gorgeous images that filled Cynthia and Victoria’s wall everyday for those 7days. The rules- 'You don’t speak for your photo and no people in it' either to tilt your concept, made it all the more alluring.

It’s such a beautiful world, the world of Blacks and whites ..and the greys.
A world we lost to colours or shall I say- lost in translation.
I took up the game but, Bidyut is’t keeping well and with my 4 year old handful around, my field of exploration was limited to mostly the house (except for those 2 photos that I took the days we had gone to see the doctor) All the photos in this album were clicked by my 8megapixel phone camera and also edited in it. I would take 20 min or less off from whatever else was keeping me busy to source a image click and edit. And I relished every minute of it.

Initially I thought, I’ll go through my old images and work on turning those the B?W. But again, I personally feel with black and white it always works better if you have it in your mind right in the beginning as you are making a frame .. that you are going to see the final image in BW. Because here it's mainly about the form, variety in texture and light ..
And it so happened .. each day, at one point of time an image would literally jump at me saying 'I am Black and white.. take me'!

When ever we are consciously involved in doing something for a particular period of time or couple of days.. our subconscious starts working around the need for it and of course, the ‘whys’
Again, why.. this fascination for Black and white..
“…thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Now how many of us would actually like to see, meet or know their first crush.. to be disillusion by the burble of reality - life, family, work, the extra bit here and there .. or receding hairline! No, not being rude or judgmental but just saying..that is the colour of life. Take it away and you have the monochrome possibilities of colouring it as you want to or just leave it as a vision; a moment there.. where it belongs- in time. Suspended, yet- with the possibilities of waking it up to life with your emotions; when ever you glance at it.

The black, white and greys tugs.. just there- the ethos.
Doing away with all the unnecessary clutters of colour that jumbles our already saturated senses.
Images I can look at someday and bring back to life; as and when and how- I want to!
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!"

patience learnt :)

Every birthday- the days and the year we have lived, marks a step- in ways big and small; sometime in ways we don’t even notice.. till we look back at it someday.

This birthday too marks a little milestone..

 Môu our little girl,  she came in as I was about to put the cake in the oven-a chocolate cake, her favourite!
- now keeping her hands off that one is going to be tough. So, I told her, it is Deuta’s birthday and once this cake is baked we will put it in the fridge and cut it at midnight today. Now she is very diligent about the whole ritual of cake cutting. So she realised she can’t eat this one right then.. than she spies the batter bowl with the remain of the chocolate batter in it. Gingerly put's a finger in and took a quick lick.. and exclaims- Woow Ma! Smiles and looks at me for approval, for more. The moment she gets the go ahead nod, she was down at the job. Happily licking away the chocolate batter...
Yes, yesterday on Deuta’s birdthay, Mou discovered the joy of licking the ‘batter bowl’.
Even delightful was to see Môu’s happy patience through out the day. Waiting and counting the minutes and seconds till midnight; to cut the cake. The moment the cake was out of the oven, our girl appears - is it time?
I say no - some hours to go. At ’12’- night.. remember?
Okay. And off she would go back to her play..

15 min later the figure is back -it is time?
No.
Okay... can I look? (it’s in the fridge now).
Ok, quick peek.
Wow— beautiful Ma.
I smile… thanks dear.

Half and hour later she is back- is it time?
No.. some more hours still to go.
Can I look ?
Yes
wow it’s pretty Ma.. it’s growing..
Yes, I think so too :) :)

Time went a bit faster in the evening, when her friends Gungun & Miska, came down for a small 'deuta's birthday eve' tea party.

At around 10.30 pm Mou comes to me- is it time?
I took her to the wall clock and showed her- see- when both hands are together at ’12’ we will cut the cake- okay?
Okay... bit tired but still patient; she returns to watch some TV

'Môu it's midnight' I call out - Môu runs out to the terrace to get Deuta and Cyrus chachu uncle.. Deuta blows out the candles, Mou sings ‘Happy birthday to you’ and the cake is cut.. yippee, finally!!!
But wait, Môu still finds something amiss. Tradition is not over till we have smeared some cake on the birthday boy... and Bidyut, who otherwise would have thrown a tantrum like a 10 year old; had anyone else tried to smear his face with chocolate cream or icing; meekly let his daughter do so :D 

And the chocolate cake, is happily devoured by all.

Tell me a Tale..

We have a car which is perfect for our family to travel.. but it does tend to become a bit cramp when you have to share it with 3 penguins and sometime a dog or a kitten too! No, I am not the Zookeeper ’s wife, It’s just that our 3 and half old year daughter Môu, loves to take her friends along with us everywhere!

Now just last night around 1 am ; I was still at the studio winding up an edit when Mou came into my room with an urgent look … and took me to the door. She told me- There is a penguin knocking at the door. Well.. past midnight and in Bombay's heat you got to let it in, right? So I helped her open the door, and guess what- a whole family of Penguin was waiting outside our studio door! Well, quite a timely arrival too — considering the boiled egg that I was trying to feed Mou sometime back, seem to be a favourite with our penguins here :):)

I know, you all must be wondering... but 'Pretend' is a word I am not comfortable using here. Because that would make me seem a bit off track too.. wouldn’t it? Considering Bidyut and I too talk to them, pet them and serve food; open the car door and wait for them to get out and sometime also help Mou to carry the Penguin’s pink egg home.. that always somehow seem to materialise from 'Nowhere land'!
 Of course, penguin eggs can be pink- just the way you can sit on the edge of a bed and fish for shark or an octopus with a piece of lace. But mind you, if you happen to catch an octopus you immediately have to throw it back to the ocean, otherwise entangled you will be!!
Also the moon always has to run to keep pace with our car.. is that why it seems to shrink and disappear altogether some days? Then there are days -specially if you are stuck amidst a sea of honking vehicles, when it plays ‘koo, koo bhaa’ (peek a boo) with Môu from behind the looming structures of our 'concert everland'.

Yes, this is how I re-discovered the enchantment of 'nowhere land' -a land we all were on our way to once, but lost our route along the way.

Have you seen the shadows play on your wall lately..

Once the Tv is off, lights are shut..

and we still have not fallen asleep

we make that trip to the fridge..

Along the way- we wait a while at each wall and watch

the shadows play a little tale,

in our house from the lights of the passing cars!

“ Ma, ma.. here comes the shadow…
See- no light no shadow!

Yes, In Môu's world, with her I have discovered that 'Nowhere land' exists, and it exists right amidst us.

Yes, we need light for shadows to form, but it is only the the shadows that will tell you the tale.. rest is just light.

World's best Besan Ladoos

I believe the world’s best ‘Besan laddos’ are made by Sameer and Nidhi's mom. We would wait for Sameer to return from Bhopal.. because with him will arrive the tins of delicious ladoos prepared by his Mom. On reaching before any one of us can pounce on the loot, he would divide them into two parts; one to be shared with us and one carefully hidden away; so that he can have them all by himself without any one of us grabbing them, specially Bidyut. Yes such are our friends !
These ladoos were the perfect bites - perfectly shaped, firm on hand and melts in your mouth. Not to sugary or greasy on your palate. Just the perfect mixture of gram flour, castor sugar and pure ghee, with a hint of cardamon.

Sameer was the kind of foodie you respect. Not that he just loved food or cooked some amazingly delicious items; but he also had a keen interest in the culinary art. I learnt many things things from him (beside being introduced to Hindi literature, which remained incomplete.. ) I picked up quiet a few cooking tricks from him. For instance, Sameer taught me how to knead dough right and roll chapatis. He always had some tidbits to share about how to cook this or that gravy. Once he made a Sabzi just with onions, for dinner and when I made a face at the idea; he said with a very straight face— This dish was Mudhabala’s favourite dish (..and I dare refuse it!)
I still wonder how that bit of information or recipe came down to him! But than of course, he also had a healthy appetite for a good laugh:)

Once when he came back from Bhopal and opened the much awaited bag of Ladoos; we found to our horror - half of the precious loot in crumble! After a momentary look at the spoil he said in his typical way- ‘Koi nay…’ - don’t worry we will re-make them. He gathered and heated the crumble in a pan and soon we were sitting on the floor rolling the the ladoos again.

Today was my very first attempt at making 'besan ladoos' unassisted. As I was rolling the ladoos in my kitchen.. I could sense Sameer pottering around- opening lids of this and that container, peeping inside the fridge, tasting something from there and all the while chattering about random things.
I could see both of us sitting there on the floor; the afternoon sun streaming in from the window- us rolling ladoos and laughing and chatting away.. as I said- Sameer loved to share little bits of wisdom- he told me, rolling 'besan ladoos' not only required skill but you have to be brave too- to put your hand right into that hot mixture that has just been removed from the burner; you’ll have blisters in your hand but sweet will be the result of your pain!
Who says.. we are physical beings? it is but a phase that we will all grow out of.. what will remains is the essence.. scattered all around.. in the smiles shared, hearts touched, fights fought, likes, dislikes.. my idiosyncrasies, my dreams, my beliefs, my angst.. they will be here, nestled - in memories, places, people, in things we touched, in stories we told. In that chair where I loved to curl up with a book, that little half chipped figurine which I refuse to throw away, my faintly fragrant handkerchief lying in the drawer..
What will fade is the image.
But will forever linger is the sense… the essence.
We will be the sugar in the ladoos- you can’t see it but you can taste it, sense it filling your essence with its sweetness..
As I say- Only thing real is forever.. Atom or Aatma.. we are, will be here.. all around.

ankiew, Peej and Sowiee.. words never spoken more sincerely:)

ankiew, Peej and Sowiee ~ three words never sounded more beautiful to me.. or were more truly spoken… perhaps.

The moment a child is born.. a chain of expectation starts that never really stops through our entire life. Everyone else seems to know better about the child's upbringing than the parents themselves. Barely out of the hospital.. and the quizzing starts - perhaps the most common take off query is- how much does the baby weigh.. and what would you do; knowing about it please? Oh he sleeps all days .. or doesn't sleep at all .. has he/ she stared crawling? - 10 months and not stood by himself yet… what about talking? O’ my daughter .. grandson, friend’s son.., etc, etc, started talking by 9 and was running by 10 month and singing songs by his 14th month!!! Yes, in no time - if you don't hold your ground or know what you are doing exactly- You will be pushed into a cycle of depression and guilt … your baby is either too thin or obese; you are either feeding too much or too little .. how can you leave the TV to babysit and go and take a bath or try to finish some household chores that is lying piled up for last so many weeks and month. Isn't walking yet? - give the child a walker or better still hold up the child and make them walk. still not talking .. keep forcing the words down their throat till they are fed up and starts parroting you! Sit back and take a deep breathe- Nature has intended that a baby will turn, crawl, stand and walk (considering there is no physical or health shortcoming) when the child is ready. The child will start talking when he/she has processed the language and learnt, and decided what they need to speak or want to communicate first. For it is true- that there is no point in learning to speak or say things we don't feel the need to communicate. Also at times a child growing up in multilingual atmosphere takes longer to speak. Communication has two aspects ‘receptive language’ and ‘expressive language’. So, though your child may not be expressing in spoken words but observe her / him - he or she will rarely fail to communicate what she likes or dislikes; wants or don’t want. Also we may not realise but their receptive language is much more developed by this point, notice how well they can manipulate your feelings:) it is just that we have to be patient enough to learn their mode of communication -because their little grey cells are busy processing all the sound and words the child is hearing around them and quietly making a choice of what they needs to utter and communicate first. So, no hurry… But no, some people around you truly believes that if you don't TEACH a child to speak it will not..!

Our little girl took her time (by some people’s chart) in picking up certain things.. we also weren’t exactly in a hurry to see her through things. Perhaps we are amongst those who likes to take things easy in life:) At 2yrs of age her vocabulary is some 25 odd words .. and I don't know by family or social norm how ahead or behind is that, nor do I care. But of those 25 words and amongst the first 10- 15 words that she learnt - Mama, bo'h(sit) aa'h (come), de(give) No, Bow'bow, Bit-tut (Bidyut) meow, Bye bye and Hi were the 3 most beautiful words- ‘Aankiew’, ‘Peej’ and ‘Sowiee’ ..for us that would be- Thank you, Please and Sorry and never were they more sincerely used ..

And as of now I am savouring these moments of Aankiew, peej and sowiee.. that dots like little musical jewels through my day. I know soon a day will come when mothers around me will be comparing their kids grade outside the school gate.. and asking me how my daughter faired... why is she learning to paint and not to dance or why to dance and not to skate.. what is she going to do after boards. why Arts and not science.. 25 and still not married... um’ well.. I know.. I am getting a bit worked up here! But yes.. my girl take your time, no hurry... Choose your words carefully and weigh them.. so when you speak, you know what you mean... No hurry. Choose carefully... :)

..a Memory bottled!

What do you get back from your ‪#‎travel‬..

For most of us an important ritual of traveling includes shopping. The haul includes for some- more shoes and dresses and bags, to perhaps couple of artifacts to carry back home as souvenir. With us, considering the amount we are on the road; we have to go easy on the shopping bit. But of course we rarely fail to bring back one or the other souvenir from the places we have been to. Mostly we tend to pick up little curio or artifacts that are unique to that place . This time from each place we visited, we decide to pick up something on behalf of Môu as she herself was too young to select and perhaps.. also too young to remember much of the trip itself! We thought it should be something unique to that place; something that she can connect later to her subconscious memories! 

We were in Europe towards the end of 'fall 'and our little girl was enthralled by the vibrant colours of ‪#‎autumn‬ all around. Where-ever we stopped, she would get busy collecting the leaves.. I carried a few leaves back with me; thinking would put them up on her scrapbook for her to look back at, someday.
But than the other day this idea came to me.. partly by a line I read - 'what is your favourite travel memory' ? I knew what was mine but how to keep it alive and vibrant..
Thus started my first attempt at ‪#‎decoupage‬

~ And here it is- adorning an empty ‪#‎bottle‬ of honey from ‪#‎Cherapunjee‬, corked with a charming hand painted marble top- picked up from a little roadside shop in ‪#‎IsolaPescatori‬ (Italy), with few pebbles lying at it's bottom- 'the Autumn leaf' from our last day in Strasbourg, picked up by Môu as we were walking toward the station.Yes, the pebbles at the bottom of the bottle are also the 'first ever picked' by our little girl from the seashore...

A memory Bottle :)

It is not something we bought from a place but it is a bit of that place and a bit of us in there- 'together' -a memory bottled! Every time I pass that bottle; the scene of Môu collecting leaves, playing on beach.. flashes through my mind's eye.


-24th december 2015

Warm your heart, balm your Soul, bake a Cake..

I am one of those to whom things always came or happened a bit late in life... and never easy!
But the one thing that comes easy to me is Baking a Cake:)

 Yes, there is something special about baking. One of my most cherished memories of childhood would be of returning home from school and pausing at the doorway to catch that waft of aroma escaping from a cake being baked in the oven. There is something unexplainably beautiful and happy about baking. The very idea can immediately lift up a sombre mood and turn the day into a small festival! Let me push in a little titbit here- one of the first items that most urban Assamese girls learn to make  i.e. of course after the most obvious humble omelette- is to bake a cake or a bread pudding. Though neither of them is origin to our traditional cuisine. Strange I know, but anyways how does it matter? 

My earliest memory of baking is of following Ma's heel as she goes around making  preparation for the cake- all along telling me the how to~  first we whisk 3 eggs, than we measure a cup of sugar, a cup of melted butter, sieve in a table spoon of baking soda to the flour and  etc. etc… So there it was imprinted in my mind. Was never ever consciously listening to her because I was more eager for the batter to be transferred into the baking dish, so that I can get my hands on to the bowl, where she was mixing up all that delicious ingredients and lick it up clean. A job me and my big brother used to do quite throughly, and which was duly and very responsibly taken up by our younger brother once we left home. (By the way, he also has the capacity to wipe off  half a kg. of a regular pound cake at one sitting itself)!  Oh yes,  we were baking that cake; mixing up our very own personal festival! As I became old enough to lend Ma a hand, mixing the cake became more of a family affair. The job of beating the eggs used to be handled by my Uncle- whom all the kids in family grew up fondly calling 'Don'. Yes Don is an 'excellent beater' he can whisk them up to fantastic froth in just couple of minutes.  Once everything has gone in Ma would again push the bowl towards Don for that final touch. Then Deuta (father)would do the all important job of setting the oven to the right time and temperature. No, no job is small when you are baking a cake! 

After that, the wait .. wait for that happy aroma to float in and quietly fill all our faces with happy smiles:) 

 There was also this special cake- we used to call it the 'Pithagurir cake'- it's eggless, made with rice flour and baked in a 'showka' ( a wood log earthen stove).

 It's a bit moist and chewy, with the lovely fragrance of wood fire flavoring it… been quite some years since I lasted tasted it. We would wait eagerly for it  to be sent by our Khuri(aunt);  just as my nephew Luit would today wait for his favourite 'homemade cake and cookies' to arrive from his Aaita(granny). By the way, I also taught Luit the fine art of - 'How to lick and wipe clean a batter bowl to look like it has never been used.' 

  Yesterday I was again baking a cake.. that brings me back to that little detail of being 'a bit late'. Well yes, I baked my cake  post Christmas day and not on the eve as I should have .. but I take that as- better late than never;)  Besides I am sure that everyone was too busy celebrating and enjoying all the thousand of other delicious gorgeous cakes made around the world, to miss my humble cake. 

So, as I was mixing my cake alone.. quietly my mind flew a few hundred miles away...  to some many years ago. In there.. in my mind, it was a happy warm montage of all the years Me and Ma had spent baking cakes or cookies. Sometime alone, sometime together as family. And I found myself laughing  at the visuals that floated by... of times when  disasters struck- when a  cake got burnt ; or the middle remained gooey, or we  put something in bit too much or too less.. or at the spontaneous celebration when some experiment of Ma came out of the  oven with flying colours! Yesterday I was mixing our cake with all those memories softly nudging me and helping me..  with each ingredient I was adding a prayer for all of those in my heart, in my mind.. and then put the baking dish inside the oven with a content smile.. that was my own little festival.

 Our lil' girl Môu is tad too young today to follow my heels but perhaps next year she will join me.. help me  bake our family cake. And than someday, many years later.. she will gently pour back all this memories into her own little cake and seal it with a Happy smile; thinking of the days and time she spent with her Ma, of course not exactly learning to bake a cake... 

  Just as I do today- thinking of all the time I spent with Ma in the kitchen as she baked ..patiently waiting to clean the batter bowl clean!

-27th December 2014