Happy New Year

Happy New Year ye all! On a philosophically cheerful note, I pray that this New Year all my readers take one step closer towards achieving their hopes dreams, ambitions and aspirations.

In quite contrast to how it has been over the past 2 years, this year has begun with no travel in the month of January. That is quite a sharp contrast to how its been over the past 2 years where the year has begun with me sometimes in different cities. It is a change and guess change is always good in some way. February though seems to have a few trips and I am looking forward to that.

14th January was Makar Sankaranti and of course Pongal (duh!) and in all efforts to celebrate the occasion I decided to make Chakkarai Pongal(rice sweetened with jaggery). So I promptly called up my mom the previous evening, checked if I still remembered the process and it turned out that I did. So on morning of 14^th, I woke up early, boiled milk, cooked rice and then it was soon time for the last step i.e. for me to melt the jaggery in the 'kadai' – which I did which such nonchalance that any one witnessing my actions in the kitchen that morning would have thought that I have a parallel profession to rely on. Anyways once the jaggery was in the kadai, I picked up the morning paper and was happily ogling at Deepika and Asin. Suddenly there was smoke and before I could realise the entire kitchen was filled with smoke. I am sure that if there as a smoke detector the fire brigade would have been at my doorstep and the building would have been evacuated. I walked through the smoke like a hero in Hindi or tam movie where the hero makes an appearance after battling the villains in a burning house and coolly switched off the stove, opened all the windows and kept the kadai out by the window sill.

The jaggery had melted, blackened and had got caramelized. I complemented myself for being the cool customer in the presence of dense smoke, doing the right things of opening the window, switching off the gas and so on. Of course I overlooked the reason for existence of the smoke in the first place. But that is such a trivial issue.

Now that I had reaffirmed my ability to think calmly in potentially stressful situations, I took the kadai out and poured some cold water on it. More smoke billowed. And for a minute I was like – Why, What How? Then my physics 101 came back to me - cold water on hot surfaces would create steam. And steam with hot jaggery would be smoke. Hmmm.

But it did not end there. The hot black molten jaggery solidified instantly on contact with cold water and I could literally turn the kadai upside down and nothing would fall. Hmppf! I spent the next 20 minutes cleaning up the kadai with boiling hot water to get rid of the solidified remnants and was ready to restart the process. And this time, I stood right next to the stove with full attention sans distraction and completed the chakkarai pongal. And I must say that it was good - with sufficient quantities of ghee and cashew and elaichi. My roommate thinks it was a tad sweet but I rather take my own opinion when it comes to MY chakkarai pongal :)

I recounted my morning experiences to my mom and she was thrilled that I made chakarai pongal. But then she hastened to give me advice on how during cooking one should give full time attention and all. Before she could proceed, I added that, her place and role as the best family cook hasn't been snatched away just as yet; but she better beware now that she has competition. I told her that she was the Bhishmah pitamah of cooking in the family, but when that didn’t work, mainly because of the age connotation that epithet carries – I changed it to Sachin Tendulkar. And I think that allayed whatever little insecurities she had. I bet she doesn't agree to this theory but what the heck... it gives me an ego boost!

Change: the quintessential human reality

Kumble retired. Anil Kumble started playing in 1990, when Tendulkar had played just 9 tests. Today 18 years later, his retirement signals end of an era. But this post isn't about cricket. Or at least not entirely.

I grew up watching this bunch of cricketers Tendulkar, Kumble, Dravid, Ganguly, Azhar, Jadeja, Srinath. Their victories were mine and their losses were personal - they hurt, almost physically. My memories of myself are incomplete without cricket and I can only say that I have been extremely fortunate to have witnessed some of these greats who enriched the game by just being who they are.

I was watching the match till tea on Sunday Nov 2^nd. The match was headed for a draw. I took a short nap for 1 hour and switched the TV back on. I noticed that Kumble was taking a victory lap. I was stunned. Had India won? Then it dawned upon me that he had retired. I was in a state of shock and disbelief. He had surprised the nation with the announcement, just like he always surprised the batsmen with his deliveries. He wouldn't have it any other way.

I felt empty within. Something had changed and changed forever. The old guard had changed. And the old guard was with whom I grew up. My grandparents when they talk about cricket, talk about Farookh Engineer and Nari Contractor. My parents, uncles and aunts discuss Gavaskar, Pataudi, Bedi and Amarnath. My cousins discuss Kapil, Srikanth, Shastri and the 83 world cup. And I am going to talk about Tendulkar, Kumble, Dravid, Ganguly, Azhar, Jadeja and Srinath.

But Nov 2^nd is symbolic in many other ways.

Post my graduation, I moved to Bombay in 2006. The city that never sleeps and yet it is the city of dreams. There was a big group which moved to Bombay from my campus which included around 6-7 of my close friends. And it is because of this group that I have had a great time over the past 2.5 years. Over the last year or so, these folks have slowly, one by one, moved on with their lives. Some have progressed to the next life stage and some have moved ahead in their respective careers. But the common story is that they have moved out of Bombay and are now spread across the world. Sunday November 2^nd, was the day when a few of us got together to give farewell dinner to my friend G who is moving out of the country. And with this, every person in the group but one, has moved out of Bombay. Suddenly it feels like you are all alone.

Just when you thought I was done.

My flatmate for 2.5 years S, is getting married this weekend in Madras. S is my colleague and we joined together in P&G. We've been flatmates since moving to Bombay. S has been an equal partner on some of our escapades. It is just not possible to not get influenced by him. His enthusiasm for cooking both mundane and gourmet dishes is unparalleled. While I have pained him by being too much of a stickler for neatness and he definitely has had his moments by being not too bothered about it; in the larger scheme of things, his genuine niceness and simple thoughts are qualities not easily found.

He chooses Nov 2^nd to shift out and move into a new house in the city. My house this week wears an empty look. The physical emptiness of the house actually accentuates this feeling of being alone.

So much change and all of a sudden. Sigh! However, change is, as we all know, the quintessential human reality.

So here is raising a toast to Kumble. 'Sir, you have proven that we don't need verbal duels and sledging and elbowing to prove our mettle. Cricket can still be a gentleman's game played with the aggression of the silent assassin. And as your greatest contemporary Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar quips - Champions turn stones into milestones. You have done just that.'

To my friends who have moved onto the next stages in life and career, ' Here is wishing you good luck and godspeed and google talk is always there. :)' And to my flatmate who begins a new phase in his life, here is wishing you truckloads of good fortune.

And of course to myself 'Accept the fact that you are old but stop behaving like a grandpa, sitting on easy chair reminiscing old times. Wake up, smell the coffee and hit the road'

Being 'cool'

So this is how it feels to be independent. Having a house to yourself. No one to tell you how to keep it. No one tell you that you need to fold the newspaper back once you have read it or that you can't walk all around the house in your shoes. No one tell you that all things need to have a place to keep. No one to tell you, why you bought that extra pair of shoes or why you are gorging away on those potato wafers lying on the sofa. Shreya wondered why her mother couldn't be cool.

She had called home after buying a new leather clutch purse for herself with her first salary. It was a touch expensive and was worried how her mother would react. But her mother did not pass any comment on the price. Nothing at all. Shreya hung up the call, but was surprised. Her mom seemed excited that she had bought something for herself with her own money. That was it. It was her own money now. Shreya suddenly felt liberated.

--*--

Shreya had settled into her new job, new city and new environs comfortably over the past 6 months. But one thing that she had not settled into was sharing her apartment with her current flatmate. She could not understand why, the newspaper could not be folded back after it was read or why one could not remove their shoes before walking all over the house. The fans and lights would always be left on and the sofa would contain food pieces once her flatmate had finished snacking. Shreya wondered, why her flatmate couldn't be cool.