Mom's Whistling Kettle and tea-time chats

Kucho nimki, narkol naru, malpua, mansher ghughni, keemar shingara, mishti r thalaa, dhok dhok pronaam aar kolakuli.... the childhood memories of Bijoya are too vivid, more so gastronomically. Days have changed, so my son, who is at least 98% clued on Bong was surprised to find, kucho nimkis are manufacturable in Mom's kitchen as well beside the Chittoranjan Park Sweet shops in Delhi. So this time, while I prepared to embrace and entertain a large group of family, Mr D prepared for his France visit for an unavoidable workshop. Little sonny R, upset with his Dad's funny tour plans was trying to find solace in visiting paternal Grandparents from Kolkata. Saptami was chaotic. My Mamashoshur( Husband's Mama) and family had planned a surprise for his sister.... they were visiting us. So even though I prepared a pick up for them from railway station, my in laws were completely in the dark. Even my ten year old son was party to the conspiracy. Chaos bloomed post lunch, I had to

India is finally the Champion of the 1st T20 World Cup. Those of us who grew up basking in the glory of 1983 Cricket World Cup win, it was a moment of reliving the past. Gone are the days of 120 overs a match, formats changed, its pace accelerated, and final structure is an accelerated entertainment crescendo, with an outcome quick and smart, win or loss. 20 overs is like picking up a fast food tray from Mc Donald driveway vis a vis a sit down meal, while appreciating the ambience and services and enjoying a well laid meal. It is therefore a matter of choice. I love Mc D meals as much as I cherish a quiet sit down dinner by poolside of a classy restaurant. Hence absolutely no contradiction and the two can co-exist in my list of favourites. All said and done, we Indians, who eat, sleep, drink, love, curse and swear cricket can rightfully celebrate the win and congratulate the fresh turks who beamed and jumped in glory last evening. So, CHEERS!! to all fellow Indians, who think Cricke

Hi! Happy Independence Day to u all...... Twenty years back, did I know that we had to wish each other on the Independence day? Or rather we believed it had to be celebrated with sombre respect and pride by hoisting the National flag and singing the patriotic songs. The serious event had its share of parades and guard of honour, a few lectures and finally the a familiar pack of dry food, with Poori bhaji, sweets of different size, texture, type that mix and embrace each other in the packet and in course of time, lend taste and flavour to each other, so that at the end. Time has passed by, so no more visiting school on independence day to take part in the prestigious celebration with some special guest of honour. Any way, coming back to reality.... On our trip to Neemrana, along the enjoyable NH8, we stopped over for a quick breakfast at Jungle Babbler, a Haryana Tourism Motel with a great property. Another 40 mins down, as we snail through the steep and narrow village roads to the Neem

Today, we woke up to a cool breezy cloudy April morning. Felt like being back in the autumn or spring mornings in Europe. While the chores happen in its own speed, I put on the TV. The usual ones, I suppose, Post Mortem of Cricket, Election results, and Nandigram. The last one made my mouth go sour in the morning. Zipping through channels I found on one Bengali channel, a popular cookery show happening. Cookery shows in India are just over a decade old, with Sanjeev Kapoor today, being a star TV Chef. In fact, if you all visit India or Dubai(no idea if he has a franchisee in US), you can drop in at any of his outlets. Coming back to our breakfast, after a long time, we decided to have just sweet and crispy Malpuas for breakfast. In Kolkata, at least a decade back the roadside shanties selling samosas(shingara) and kachoris (Kochuri), often fried some malpuas as well along with the usual jalebis. Unhealthy, unsanitised, yet yummy... close but un matched is the new avtar in my sanitised

Motherhood is a bliss, till you need to strategically juggle, a demanding work responsibility and schedule, a baby at the pallu's end, the uncertainties and anxieties of adjusting with the super-necessary human being with bagful of attitudes called the 'Child's maid', the'Ayah' or the 'Messiah' and the'others' in the family. Looking back, nine and a half year after my son was born, I have the luxury of delivering such intellectual, eclectic discussions/ blogs, which I am sure would inspire and reassure thousands of Moms like me, suffering and deferring a sabbatical, after a day is done and dreaming of a brighter morning the next day