And thereby ends the tale

And thus ended my 2 months of exploring the creative genius in me. I enrolled in this writing course with the hope of finding which genre is my writing style best suited for. Thankfully, the professors unanimously agreed that Travel Writing suits me best. I was also pleased to find out that I'm not bad at writing fictional short stories. Unfortunately, I also discovered that I am terrible at comedy and my 'dry' humor is not so easy for the average person to understand.

I also learnt interesting techniques in writing and what a fascinating world the written word hides. My mathematically inclined best friend would love concepts like N+7 and lipograms (entire pieces of writing or books which avoid words containing a particular letter).

I met some wonderful people from varied walks of life. I shared perspectives with brilliant professors and allowed myself to be subject to their criticism. I loved learning again and got reminded of how I love giving exams.

Another chapter that comes to a close. Here's hoping for many such more.

Amen

posted from Bloggeroid

Superstitions

Superstition, the irrational hope against hope. It is either the seed of doubt that someone sows in your head or the ray of hope that you hope to see even though its cloudy outside. Forget judging everyone else, let me tell you a little story about myself. I pride myself to be a person wary of superstition and blind faith. I don't ridicule them but I don't believe in most of them either. But a few years ago, I tagged along with some friends to a renowned astrologer in South Delhi out of curiosity. I don't know whether it was her 3 storey bungalow in GK1 or the stilettos on her feet but to my rational mind, she did not fit the image of a typical astrologer so I gave in to the temptation of getting my future told. Lets just say that wasn't such a smart move. She did what astrologers do best, put the seed of doubt of impending disaster in my mind and then also told me how to circumvent the same. To cut a long story short, 18 months and countless boxes of sweets donated to Gurudwaras later, my life remained just as it was before, nothing better and no worse.

When I was in school, I always made a wish on a mail van. I would cross my fingers and not say a word till I saw a black car. It took many years of futile wishing to realise that the Barbie house wasn't going to be wished into my life, I would have to take more concrete steps. Then came the age of wishing as I crossed a subway while a train passed above. And more recently, my final hope and futile wish at Chishti Dargah in Fatehpur Sikri.

Taking the 3 decades of my life as an indicative sample (if Freud can do it, so can I), I think I can safely say that superstitions are just that - superstitions. Blind faith. Wishes don't come true by wishing them. You have to make them happen. If problems were solved by wearing stones, Obama wouldn't have any bare fingers left now, would he?!      

Work trip? Anytime!!

Amongst the few things I miss about my corporate days (yes there are a few), travel is high on the list. Always a nomad, I loved to travel on work. Even if it were to commercial Mumbai or sweltering Chennai. I miss it all. I miss the taxi cards at the airport with my name on them, the hotels, the long languishing tub baths with a book in one hand and a glass of cold coffee in another. I miss being the master of my own itinerary. Working in new offices with interesting people and sneaking away sooner than I would dare to in Delhi!

I miss the ego kick that somebody thought me valuable enough to invest so much in my comfort and convenience. I miss watching TV alone in the hotel room with room service to boot. I miss meeting old friends. Discovering places. Or bunking a conference to watch a movie with colleagues (ya ya, don't look so shocked..you've done it too).

I miss the independence. The sense of being carefree. Sometimes. I do.

posted from Bloggeroid

The City of Joy - Restaurant Review

My never-ending quest for interesting food took us to a small restaurant in the area within south Delhi where I have spent a majority of my childhood - Alaknanda. Nestled in the colony's Aravali market is a small Bengali restaurant called 'City of Joy'.

Diamond Fish Fry

 My exposure to Bengali food is limited to Oh Calcutta. However, fine dining and eclectic as it is, it can not possibly represent this state where people take their food (and most else) very seriously. Thus, I am happy to announce another winner in this category.

Being novices in this department, we asked the server for his recommendations. How Punjabi do I possibly look that he rattled off the likes of Chicken Curry, kaali daal etc. Only with some help from him did we finally manage to order. The menu has various options, for most of which you can even order half plate.

We started off with the Diamond Fish Fry, which the name really explains. Half plate has two fabulously crusted and fried fillets of boneless Betki. Very moist, extremely well favoured and fresh fish! We followed that up with Chingri Kalia (two tiger prawns in a rich tomato based gravy) and Betki bhapa maach (also known as patter maach) which is fish steamed in a banana leaf with a mustard paste. The latter was a unique taste to our pallete yet it was something so perfectly balanced that we could have asked for doubles. The mutton curry was nothing special but did have a different take to it from the version familiar to North Indians.

The Spread

My vegetarian friend seemed quite happy with her Phool ghobi malai roast and Chanar kalia (paneer in a thick tomato gravy). The cauliflower dish was actually quite tasty and I surprised myself by taking more than just a bit!!

The total damage for 4 people was Rs.1600 and I do believe we had ordered lavishly. All in all, well worth the drive. If you like Bengali food, and even if (especially if) you've never tried it, head off to 'The City Of Joy', it won't leave you disappointed.

Rating: 3.5 on 5

Meal for 2: Rs.800

Alcohol: Not served

Home Delivery: Available within Alaknanda

Perspectives

My creative writing classes at British Council have taught me more than just creative writing. I never thought that the day would come when I would say this, but I actually look forward to meeting people twice a week. I am perhaps the person least likely to enjoy meeting new people. I love my own company and hold on to old friends like a comfort blanket. But put any person for 12 months in a house with only a 2 footer for company who demands that every waking moment be dedicated to her (and most of the sleeping ones too); and watch that person be a social butterfly when the opportunity arises! 

(My professor insists that we limit our use of the exclamation mark!! That’s a tough one!)

My classmates are a varied bunch, as different from each other as possible. The age groups range from 18 to 42, career aspirations, marital status, purpose of attending the course – each variable has all sorts of representation. But meeting new friends also gives you a glimpse of what people perceive your life to be (and are too polite to spell it out). So while we’re walking to my car the other day, my new friend T  comments on how relaxed my life must be now that I don’t work (I have VERY strong opinions on what constitutes ‘work’ and how it’s not limited to an office but let’s not go there). I smiled benignly and told her that I had a 1 year old baby, a house to run, freelance writing assignments, a travel company to keep afloat and atleast enough responsibilities to fill 20 A4 sheets. “But” she replied, having quit her corporate job a while back too “don’t you just love the freedom of not waking up to go to office, answering to your boss for everything?”

I let the conversation go, after giving her some advise on sticking to her current status (unmarried, living with joint family, taking up freelance assignments relating to her previous career for pocket money) for as long as possible if she wanted to relax. How could I explain to her that I had woken that morning at 6:30am to supervise the cook (woken up is to be taken with a pinch of salt as I slept for a total of 1 hour that night my daughter having caught a cold). While my baby was blissfully asleep (finally), I spent the next 2 hours setting the house in order and serving my husband breakfast. The moment I bid him adieu and sat down on the chair, my baby woke up and thereafter started the process of cleaning her, bathing her, dressing her, feeding her (after cooking her breakfast), cleaning her again. By now, I had all of 10 minutes left to get dressed and rush for my class. Which can be a challenge when your baby wails if she can’t see you even for a micro second.

So finally I rushed out, dropped her to my mother’s place, drove for an hour in terrible traffic to reach British Council and managed to make it in the nick of time.

I wanted to tell T that the 2 hours twice a week that I have class is the only time in my week that I can ‘relax’. That I would perhaps love the opportunity to have an office to run to and forget all of the above for 10 hours everyday. No, I don’t regret my decision even for a moment. I can never do the corporate thing again, it’s just not me. Neither do I assume that my life is tougher than that of my husband who toils tirelessly at work. But a cakewalk it is not. I do not have a minute to spare and despair. I do not sit around the house and have a ball. Superwoman I am not... but I’m pretty sure I’m doing the darn best I can.  

   

Assigment 2 - The Senses

As my second assignment at the British Council class, I was asked to dedicate one experience for each sense to someone whom I loved (if I believed in love). One for vision, one for hearing.....you get the drift.

Here are my dedications...what are yours??

• The smell of mud wet from the first rains following a scorching summer. 
• The sound of waves rolling towards the shore and crashing into each other. 
• The look of pure joy on your dog’s face when she sees you after a few hours.
• The taste of a decadent gooey and warm chocolate cake.
• The clasp of a baby’s fingers around your little finger.

Raison D'Etre

My Advanced Creative Writing course at British Council is getting more interesting by the day. As are the homework assignments. So I figured what better place to post them and get feedback than my own blog.

In a class where we were discussing poetry, we were asked to close our eyes and imagine that there are no humans in this world and thus, no relationships. Given that situation, what is it that we would live for? What would we find meaning in? Below is my submission for the assignment. Please feel free to critique or comment.

Raison D'etre

Drops of rain caressing my face,

Fresh warm bread that I’d love to taste.

A little pup who keeps me warm,

A cup of tea helps me brave the storm.

Wet sand that slips from beneath my feet,

The rising sun I like to greet.

The sound of birds chirping by,

Hidden beauty in the colours of the sky.

True meaning of life if I ever do seek,

These little pleasures are my reason to be.