so here i am again. inspired to blog. in one of those moods when a sudden spurt of imagination, powered by a long spell of inactivity urges me to get going full throttle. a quick, ambitious to-do list materialises. the level of conviction is incredible. of course i can accomplish so much. i must. there's no alternative. i feel a steely resolve and promise to not fail myself. since i must begin immediately, i type. i must use up the nervous energy. so the blog.
life's been eventful since i wrote last. the weighing scale fluctuated. i had a few exciting holidays. news broke. i shopped. learned driving. had a baby. and the world turned upside down. in a good way, mostly.
i'm playing a full time mom for now. apprehensive about returning to work. proud, happy, grateful and insecure. like all new moms, i guess. won't venture into the romantic aspects of motherhood. that i'll leave for some other time. she's woken up.
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
BOOKS 2009
My all time favorite story is that of my parents. How they met, fell in love and got married. As a child I pestered my mother, urging her to tell me the story over and over again. And then my aunts and uncles. Some frowned, most obliged.. I added the bits and pieces, skipped some parts and imagined a fairy-tale love story. I decided if I ever wrote a book it would be about them. I haven’t.
But my fascination with such stories still draws me to family histories, books that blend history, facts and fiction and go beyond listing names and places with a tree. Here are the best ones I read this year.
Leaving India by Minal Hajratwala
Its a must read if you like the genre. The author describes it as ‘My Family’s Journey From Five Villages to Five Continents’. It’s the story of the Indian Diaspora told through her family – how and why they migrated over a period of one hundred years from Navsari in Gujarat to Fiji, South Africa, Australia, the US, Hong Kong and the United Kingdom.
She starts from the very beginning – the elimination of kshatriyas or the warrior-kings from the earth, the rise of the demons, the appearance of Ardhanaarishwara – half god and half goddess- who created four great warriors including the Solanki king whose tribe ruled until the year 1242. Then God told them to become the Khatri weavers.
Centuries later, the industrial revolution pushed the weavers to migrate to Fiji. The author’s great-grandfather left India with the girmitiyas- the indenture labourers. He started as a small tailor in Suva. Decades later, his sons owned the biggest departmental store in South Pacific. Another relative, Ganda, traveled to South Africa and suffered the discriminatory laws in Durban to run his vegetarian restaurant. Post World War II, the govt subsidized bread and barred native Africans from eating in restaurants. Ganda started one of the first take-away services in the world. He scooped out bread loaves and served curry in them, creating the first version of what’s now popular as ‘bunny-chow’.
The author’s father was the first in the family to complete a master’s degree in the US. Back in Suva, his father claimed he had invented Penicillin!
It’s a story of successive challenges. The grand parents fought poverty and discrimination, the parents fought old barriers to study further and explore a new life and the children fought their own culture and identity to “fit-in” as Americans. You relate to events in many ways, you feel you’ve known someone like the character in the book and yet there’s a novelty that interests you throughout. The author researched for 7 years, traveled the world to interview more than 75 relatives and it shows. The book is meticulous and engaging.
The View From Castle Rock by Alice Munro
Its a heavily fictionalized family history and memoir. Munro’s forefathers came from a place with “no advantages”.
This parish possesses no advantages. Upon the hills the soil is in many places mossy and fit for nothing. The air in general is moist… The nearest market town in fifteen miles away and the roads so deep as to be almost impassable…Barley oats and potatoes are the only crops raised. Wheat rye turnips and cabbage are never attempted…
Contribution by the Ministry of Ettrick Parish, Scotland 1799
Will of Far Hope or Will O’Phaup was a boy hero in Ettrick who earned fame but little money, lost his wife early and died a bootlegger and a storyteller. His grandsons James Hogg and James Laidlaw too “escaped into lasting fame”. The former as the author of ‘Confessions of a Justified Sinner’ and the latter for migrating to Canada! Laidlaw took his son to Castle Rock in Edinburgh to show what he believed was America.
Once they land on the other side, the book gets more layered. The author tries to narrate a long complicated tale in short stories. Her family travels from Illinois to Ontario. Her father runs a silver fox farm; her mother – the expert saleswoman – makes good money. Then disease takes over. And teenage. Love, fancies, the wild imagination of a headstrong girl, a fickle boyfriend, and then none for many years, the yearning for books - it’s a vivid portrait of a girl who liked lying under an apple tree in bloom and “looking up at it from underneath”.
Cane River by Lalita Tademy
Its the story of four generations of black women. The oldest, Tademy’s great grandmother Emily was a slave at a Creole plantation. The youngest, Lalita Tademy ended up as the VP and General Manager at a Fortune 500 company in Silicon Valley. She left her high paying job to explore her past in Louisiana. It’s a fabulous tale of slavery and emancipation, of love and loss and the tough choices women make even as slaves. Powerful, inspiring and heartbreaking.
But my fascination with such stories still draws me to family histories, books that blend history, facts and fiction and go beyond listing names and places with a tree. Here are the best ones I read this year.
Leaving India by Minal Hajratwala
Its a must read if you like the genre. The author describes it as ‘My Family’s Journey From Five Villages to Five Continents’. It’s the story of the Indian Diaspora told through her family – how and why they migrated over a period of one hundred years from Navsari in Gujarat to Fiji, South Africa, Australia, the US, Hong Kong and the United Kingdom.
She starts from the very beginning – the elimination of kshatriyas or the warrior-kings from the earth, the rise of the demons, the appearance of Ardhanaarishwara – half god and half goddess- who created four great warriors including the Solanki king whose tribe ruled until the year 1242. Then God told them to become the Khatri weavers.
Centuries later, the industrial revolution pushed the weavers to migrate to Fiji. The author’s great-grandfather left India with the girmitiyas- the indenture labourers. He started as a small tailor in Suva. Decades later, his sons owned the biggest departmental store in South Pacific. Another relative, Ganda, traveled to South Africa and suffered the discriminatory laws in Durban to run his vegetarian restaurant. Post World War II, the govt subsidized bread and barred native Africans from eating in restaurants. Ganda started one of the first take-away services in the world. He scooped out bread loaves and served curry in them, creating the first version of what’s now popular as ‘bunny-chow’.
The author’s father was the first in the family to complete a master’s degree in the US. Back in Suva, his father claimed he had invented Penicillin!
It’s a story of successive challenges. The grand parents fought poverty and discrimination, the parents fought old barriers to study further and explore a new life and the children fought their own culture and identity to “fit-in” as Americans. You relate to events in many ways, you feel you’ve known someone like the character in the book and yet there’s a novelty that interests you throughout. The author researched for 7 years, traveled the world to interview more than 75 relatives and it shows. The book is meticulous and engaging.
The View From Castle Rock by Alice Munro
Its a heavily fictionalized family history and memoir. Munro’s forefathers came from a place with “no advantages”.
This parish possesses no advantages. Upon the hills the soil is in many places mossy and fit for nothing. The air in general is moist… The nearest market town in fifteen miles away and the roads so deep as to be almost impassable…Barley oats and potatoes are the only crops raised. Wheat rye turnips and cabbage are never attempted…
Contribution by the Ministry of Ettrick Parish, Scotland 1799
Will of Far Hope or Will O’Phaup was a boy hero in Ettrick who earned fame but little money, lost his wife early and died a bootlegger and a storyteller. His grandsons James Hogg and James Laidlaw too “escaped into lasting fame”. The former as the author of ‘Confessions of a Justified Sinner’ and the latter for migrating to Canada! Laidlaw took his son to Castle Rock in Edinburgh to show what he believed was America.
Once they land on the other side, the book gets more layered. The author tries to narrate a long complicated tale in short stories. Her family travels from Illinois to Ontario. Her father runs a silver fox farm; her mother – the expert saleswoman – makes good money. Then disease takes over. And teenage. Love, fancies, the wild imagination of a headstrong girl, a fickle boyfriend, and then none for many years, the yearning for books - it’s a vivid portrait of a girl who liked lying under an apple tree in bloom and “looking up at it from underneath”.
Cane River by Lalita Tademy
Its the story of four generations of black women. The oldest, Tademy’s great grandmother Emily was a slave at a Creole plantation. The youngest, Lalita Tademy ended up as the VP and General Manager at a Fortune 500 company in Silicon Valley. She left her high paying job to explore her past in Louisiana. It’s a fabulous tale of slavery and emancipation, of love and loss and the tough choices women make even as slaves. Powerful, inspiring and heartbreaking.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
EAT MY GLOBE
Go everywhere, eat everything. 30 countries. 12 months. Loads and loads of food. Everyone I told about the book went – WOW! Wish I could do it. Since most of us possibly won’t do it, the next best thing is to read the book. Eat my Globe by Simon Majumdar – the son of a Bengali father and Welsh mother who’s grown up on thin lentil soup (he calls it LSD- Life Saving Dahl) and black pudding (blood, barley, spices and back fat in beef intestine) and everything in between. And he’s grown up to love it to the extent most don’t, or perhaps don’t realize, or aren’t good enough to articulate. Its incredible the way he leaves his well-paying desk job with a publisher in London and crisscrosses the globe with Big Red- his backpack that’s big and red. Talk about original.
He blogs about his project and ppl the world over open their homes to him, to show their local cuisine and culture. In this day and age, an immensely generous gesture. Places where he doesn’t find a family or friend, he sits alone in restaurants and eavesdrops! By his own admission – “I love eavesdropping. It’s a family tradition.”
And he obviously loves food. The Great Majumdar, for whom many animals have died, samples everything from braised dog and stir fried rat in Yangshou to fermented mare’s milk in Mongolia and roasted crickets in Malaysia. If you aren’t hardcore, you might get bored with the detailed description of how these meals were prepared. But the guy is funny and the idea so grand, you want it lap it all up. Even the crazy bits that make you go arrghhh!
China: ‘I expected squat toilets. I even expected a smell like hell’s anus. What I did not expect was half a dozen holes in the ground straddled by Chinese men grimacing and groaning as they worked hard to extrude their daily bread in open view. It got worse, a lot worse. Some of the men thought that this was the perfect opportunity to have supper at the same time and were eating bowls full of noodles’
Aaaarrrrrrrghhhhh!
Its a good book. Must also check Majumdar’s blog Dos Hermanos that he writes with his brother TGS – The Great Salami aka Robin. Will talk about him some other time. Happy reading!
He blogs about his project and ppl the world over open their homes to him, to show their local cuisine and culture. In this day and age, an immensely generous gesture. Places where he doesn’t find a family or friend, he sits alone in restaurants and eavesdrops! By his own admission – “I love eavesdropping. It’s a family tradition.”
And he obviously loves food. The Great Majumdar, for whom many animals have died, samples everything from braised dog and stir fried rat in Yangshou to fermented mare’s milk in Mongolia and roasted crickets in Malaysia. If you aren’t hardcore, you might get bored with the detailed description of how these meals were prepared. But the guy is funny and the idea so grand, you want it lap it all up. Even the crazy bits that make you go arrghhh!
China: ‘I expected squat toilets. I even expected a smell like hell’s anus. What I did not expect was half a dozen holes in the ground straddled by Chinese men grimacing and groaning as they worked hard to extrude their daily bread in open view. It got worse, a lot worse. Some of the men thought that this was the perfect opportunity to have supper at the same time and were eating bowls full of noodles’
Aaaarrrrrrrghhhhh!
Its a good book. Must also check Majumdar’s blog Dos Hermanos that he writes with his brother TGS – The Great Salami aka Robin. Will talk about him some other time. Happy reading!
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
THE NEWS FROM PARAGUAY
The last time I looked up a map of Paraguay I was in 7th grade, perhaps 6th. The country is hardly in news. It doesn’t matter to us much. This is what bothered Francisco Solano Lopez or Franco way back in 1854, so much so, that he dragged his country into war and devastation. The News From Paraguay by Lily Tuck is the story of Franco and Ella Lynch- an Irish courtesan living in France, until she meets Franco and moves to Paraguay to be his mistress, the mother of his children and a powerful voice in Paraguay’s governance.
Ella adapts, learns Spanish and Guarani and develops a taste for yerba mate. Franco tries to change his country as dictator by building opera houses and libraries. Ella survives war and disease. Franco dies before getting thousands of his men killed. Both are complex people, tender at times yet unscrupulous and greedy. Franco gets his brothers killed, puts his sisters in prison on charges of treason as he fights a losing battle against the allied forces of Brazil, Argentina and Banda Orientale (now Uruguay). The same Franco indulges his son, mourns the death of his daughter and plays a considerate lover to his mistress. Ella leaves her Russian patron to be with Franco because he can pay her bills. But she shields her servants and cares for her horse Mathilde even when the war makes survival difficult. The book faintly reminds me of Gone with the wind. The protagonists stay together, not necessarily for love.
The vivid imagery, the seamless interweaving of fact and fiction, the fearless exploration of human strengths and weaknesses makes it an interesting read. If you enjoy historic fiction, go for it.
Ella adapts, learns Spanish and Guarani and develops a taste for yerba mate. Franco tries to change his country as dictator by building opera houses and libraries. Ella survives war and disease. Franco dies before getting thousands of his men killed. Both are complex people, tender at times yet unscrupulous and greedy. Franco gets his brothers killed, puts his sisters in prison on charges of treason as he fights a losing battle against the allied forces of Brazil, Argentina and Banda Orientale (now Uruguay). The same Franco indulges his son, mourns the death of his daughter and plays a considerate lover to his mistress. Ella leaves her Russian patron to be with Franco because he can pay her bills. But she shields her servants and cares for her horse Mathilde even when the war makes survival difficult. The book faintly reminds me of Gone with the wind. The protagonists stay together, not necessarily for love.
The vivid imagery, the seamless interweaving of fact and fiction, the fearless exploration of human strengths and weaknesses makes it an interesting read. If you enjoy historic fiction, go for it.
Frank McCourt
"The master says its a glorious thing to die for the Faith and Dad says its a glorious thing to die for Ireland and I wonder if there is anyone in the world who'd like us to live."
Frank McCourt died this Sunday. He was 78. The son of a beggar living in Limerick slums, a telegram boy, a waiter in New York, a clerk, a student, a High School teacher, an author. His is the story of a "miserable Irish Catholic childhood". And its a story he tells without a hint of bitterness, which is what makes it so powerful.
Frank and his three brothers were brought up on a diet of tea and bread, sometimes just warm water. They went to a government school, lived on charity, picked coal for a fire on the road, plugged holes in their shoes with pieces of tyre and shared a huge old bed.
The father drank all the dole money. The family starved and begged - a pig head for Christmas dinner. "He chose the bottle over the babies." Beyond a point you don't blame him. He was just a weak man who abandoned his family. The mother took all that came her way as the will of God. The kids, they fought.
Angela's Ashes is a memoir that inspires you with the innocent faith and optimism of a boy.
"Then he placed on my tongue the wafer, the body and blood of Jesus. I drew it back. It stuck. I had God glued to the roof of my mouth.
The food churned in my stomach. I gagged. I ran to her backyard and threw it all up. Out she came.
Look at what he did. Thrun up his First Communion breakfast. Thrun up the body and blood of Jesus.
Bless me Father, for I have sinned.
I overslept. I nearly missed my First Communion. My grandmother said I have standing up, North of Ireland, Presbyterian hair. I threw up my First Communion breakfast. Now Grandma says she has God in her backyard and what should she do."
The second book 'Tis is set mostly in New York. Its Frank's journey from being a boy off the boat to a teacher. Its a bit of a drag towards the end. The other books I might not read. But I respect the man who turned his sorry tale of squalor into a story of courage and forgiveness. May he rest in peace.
Frank McCourt died this Sunday. He was 78. The son of a beggar living in Limerick slums, a telegram boy, a waiter in New York, a clerk, a student, a High School teacher, an author. His is the story of a "miserable Irish Catholic childhood". And its a story he tells without a hint of bitterness, which is what makes it so powerful.
Frank and his three brothers were brought up on a diet of tea and bread, sometimes just warm water. They went to a government school, lived on charity, picked coal for a fire on the road, plugged holes in their shoes with pieces of tyre and shared a huge old bed.
The father drank all the dole money. The family starved and begged - a pig head for Christmas dinner. "He chose the bottle over the babies." Beyond a point you don't blame him. He was just a weak man who abandoned his family. The mother took all that came her way as the will of God. The kids, they fought.
Angela's Ashes is a memoir that inspires you with the innocent faith and optimism of a boy.
"Then he placed on my tongue the wafer, the body and blood of Jesus. I drew it back. It stuck. I had God glued to the roof of my mouth.
The food churned in my stomach. I gagged. I ran to her backyard and threw it all up. Out she came.
Look at what he did. Thrun up his First Communion breakfast. Thrun up the body and blood of Jesus.
Bless me Father, for I have sinned.
I overslept. I nearly missed my First Communion. My grandmother said I have standing up, North of Ireland, Presbyterian hair. I threw up my First Communion breakfast. Now Grandma says she has God in her backyard and what should she do."
The second book 'Tis is set mostly in New York. Its Frank's journey from being a boy off the boat to a teacher. Its a bit of a drag towards the end. The other books I might not read. But I respect the man who turned his sorry tale of squalor into a story of courage and forgiveness. May he rest in peace.
Saturday, July 04, 2009
Marriage is a complicated process. Try getting married legally and you’ll discover a whole new level of 'complicated'. I did, when I decided to get myself a marriage certificate.
Here’s what you need—
1. affidavits of the bride, the groom, two witnesses and the pandit who got you married.
2. 3 postcard sized photographs of the bride and the groom together.
3. 2 individual passport sized photos of the bride and the groom.
4. photo ID cards of the witnesses
5. class ten mark-sheets of the bride and the groom (uh?!)
Then begins the exercise. Fill a whole lot of forms with your thumbprints (I did tell them I can sign!). Don’t complain. Keep getting shunted from one room to the other in the municipal corporation office. sarkari daftar ke chakkar kaat kaat ke joote ghis gaye--- now its my fav filmi line. Go to the babu and get your forms signed. Go to the computer room. Computer room! Go to room no.4 and get a new slip. Get it signed again from room no.12. Babu refuses to sign. Busy right now, working on a minister’s orders. Come tomorrow. No please. Here’s a little gift for you sir. Arrey! Smile. Ok wait. Get some commissioner-type to call the babu.
He signs, pronto!
Do you want a certificate in English?! Oh ho ho!! Fine then, check the spelling mistakes. Get another printout. Sorry! Computer ko hangover ho gaya!!!! BLAH! Ab kya. Wait karo. But the babu who’ll sign has disappeared. No worries, he’ll most probably return by evening. Evening!! We’ve been here since 11am. Can’t help madam.
So you wait. Sarkari sounds and images buzz in your head. Chai wala. Paan. Chatter. Hair oil. Spittle. Gazab garmi hai.
You keep sitting outside the babu’s office on a metal chair and experience the gradual flattening of your behind. The peons look at you expressionless. Lost in picking their nose and teeth. Examining their earwax stuck on the little finger.
Suddenly there’s a lot of movement. Saheb aa rahe hain. You wonder if they’ll sound the bugle. The man walks in purposefully, leaves the door ajar. You peep inside his cabin. He rejects your file. Yeh sab baad mein. The peon smiles and persists. Babu frowns, but starts scribbling.
Ah, finally.
Oh no! its not even my file!! Ok wait. There’s another one. By now you’re openly staring, standing at his door. Forget good manners, this is important.
A man comes out with your certificate. Badhai ho ji! Mil gaya. Aur kuch? Can I please set your office on fire? No, thank you.
Here’s what you need—
1. affidavits of the bride, the groom, two witnesses and the pandit who got you married.
2. 3 postcard sized photographs of the bride and the groom together.
3. 2 individual passport sized photos of the bride and the groom.
4. photo ID cards of the witnesses
5. class ten mark-sheets of the bride and the groom (uh?!)
Then begins the exercise. Fill a whole lot of forms with your thumbprints (I did tell them I can sign!). Don’t complain. Keep getting shunted from one room to the other in the municipal corporation office. sarkari daftar ke chakkar kaat kaat ke joote ghis gaye--- now its my fav filmi line. Go to the babu and get your forms signed. Go to the computer room. Computer room! Go to room no.4 and get a new slip. Get it signed again from room no.12. Babu refuses to sign. Busy right now, working on a minister’s orders. Come tomorrow. No please. Here’s a little gift for you sir. Arrey! Smile. Ok wait. Get some commissioner-type to call the babu.
He signs, pronto!
Do you want a certificate in English?! Oh ho ho!! Fine then, check the spelling mistakes. Get another printout. Sorry! Computer ko hangover ho gaya!!!! BLAH! Ab kya. Wait karo. But the babu who’ll sign has disappeared. No worries, he’ll most probably return by evening. Evening!! We’ve been here since 11am. Can’t help madam.
So you wait. Sarkari sounds and images buzz in your head. Chai wala. Paan. Chatter. Hair oil. Spittle. Gazab garmi hai.
You keep sitting outside the babu’s office on a metal chair and experience the gradual flattening of your behind. The peons look at you expressionless. Lost in picking their nose and teeth. Examining their earwax stuck on the little finger.
Suddenly there’s a lot of movement. Saheb aa rahe hain. You wonder if they’ll sound the bugle. The man walks in purposefully, leaves the door ajar. You peep inside his cabin. He rejects your file. Yeh sab baad mein. The peon smiles and persists. Babu frowns, but starts scribbling.
Ah, finally.
Oh no! its not even my file!! Ok wait. There’s another one. By now you’re openly staring, standing at his door. Forget good manners, this is important.
A man comes out with your certificate. Badhai ho ji! Mil gaya. Aur kuch? Can I please set your office on fire? No, thank you.
Friday, June 26, 2009
PU BLOOPER
“I’m a victim of racism in my own country” – Pu Lalthanhawla, the Chief Minister of Mizoram made headlines with this statement in
If anything, you’ve only made it worse. You’ve embarrassed your country and your people.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
BOARD-ING PASS FOR OUR KIDS
Homework homework homework—that’s what I’d be doing this time of the year 10 years back. What a miserable way to end a long holiday! Last minute project reports, assignments. I hated holiday homework. I got scolded every single time by my mother for not doing it over the month and rushing through it the last minute. But I’d do the same the next year, and the year after that. Stay up late, wake up early. Finish it. Or get scolded in school, even punished. Despite the madness, nobody at home entertained the idea of my being ‘stressed’. All this work, so much pressure on a child – nobody ever said that to me. Not like my folks were insensitive monsters. They just believed it was a deal—You’ve got to do your homework, study hard for your exam, deal with peer pressure, sort out your mess—like it or lump it. I never went weeping to the counselor. I didn’t know we had one in the school for the longest time. And I guess I turned out fine. All my friends did.
So what’s this talk of kids under pressure? Exams are too much now?!!. No issues, we have an education minister who understands all about stress in school. He wants to scrap the 10th board exam. Yippie!! Next he’ll abolish boards in twelfth (that’s any day more stressful). Then college. Never take an exam. Sarkar kaa haath aam vidyarthi ke saath. They’ll also come up with ways to make your love life smoother, offer help with pimples, make sure your parents give you enough pocket money, and include bunking classes in the list of constitutional rights. Go ahead, live your life stress free, challenge free. UNTILL. You get a job and find it hard to keep. You get a moron for a boss who’s always yelling. You struggle to plug the leak in your bank balance. Your bills are the only thing that grow faster than your waistline. YOU GET THE POINT. It may be the worst case scenario but we face challenges every day. And they cause stress. Any remedies mr sibal? No? then don’t mess with the system. Please.
If you insist on helping, start with primary education. You’ve spent crores of rupees and we’re not faring much better from where we started off. Abolish quota. It sucks. When I go to a doc, I want to know his caste. I don’t want a quota guy to tinker with my health. He may not know his stuff. Create opportunities instead of trying to curb competition. We’ll all appreciate it.
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