"HOLI" The festival of clours

Holi is the festival of colours which is celebrated mostly in the northern parts of India, and the other parts of the world. It's a festival of love and warmth and is addressed as the "festival of colours". It comes, just, after the month of Basant, in Phalguni month. Basant is the month of Spring as per the Hindu Calendar, when flowers blooms spreading its fragrance in the air making it a best anecdotes for love and romance; and the whole atmosphere becomes full of passion and fervor. Thus, as believed, this marks the passion of love for Lord Krishna by Radha Rani. In Barsana, ( a town in Uttarpradesh )which is also the birth place of Radha Rani, an entire month, is dedicated (spent) to Holi celebration and is celebrated, honouring Radha Rani and Lord Krishna's pure love for eachother. The atmosphere being coloured thus, becomes beautiful  like a rainbow.

All said, I would now, take you all down my memory lane where I was just a little girl of 13yrs.

I am talking about the era of 70s-80s.  

As I had mentioned many times in my earlier posts about my house and it's surroundings, and about the main Market place, I would be focusing on it, and telling you all about it.

Due to the Holi festival the Market was crowded with hustle bustle and noise all around. The shops were adorned with colourful packets of colours, and "PICHKARI" ( it is a pump to fill coloured water to spray on each other as an ordeal of playing Holi). The other method of spraying coloured water is by filling balloons either with plain water or coloured water. People with little children would flock  the market place to buy colours, pichkari and balloons. I loved to watch all this from my balcony. 

On the day of Holi the streets would be full of "Maston ki toli " means group of people singing and dancing and throwing colours on eachother they will be just roaming around  with dholak baja, and bhajiya. And to sooth themselves, as well as their throats, they will be having thandai( Thandai is a sweetened milk made with almond and melon seeds paste,,). But, during Holi to make the festival more funny and humourous they add an addictive called "Bhang" It's learnt that this Bhang is such an addictive that if you laugh while sipping it down you will keep on laughing and if you're crying then you will cry your heart out. So mostly people being in festive mood just to play pranks, would be adding this in drink and passing on  to each other, all would be dancing and swaying in addiction, unknown  of the actual situation and their surroundings.

Now coming to my story, as penned down in my earlier posts, it's was, those, time when my home was filled with many people mostly my cousins all pranksters. The building opposite to ours were families with children who were mostly boys and all hardcore pranksters waiting for an opportunity to play pranks. The building was taller than ours, and thus their aim in throwing colours on us was very much easier and their sole intentions was to hurt us. Our terrace too would be filled with boys ( my cousins, and the only exception we three sis) no one could be recognised with the coloured faces and they all looked like jokers or zombies. We used to laugh our heart out throwing colours, singing  laughing loudly and playing Holi in a joyful way. But the people on the opposite building was creating nuisance by aiming us, and throwing balloons, filled with water. It's was really hurting. They were just enjoying our embarassment.

The flaw of this festival is that people with coloured faces unable to be recognised takes undue advantage of everything, eve teasing, and  bullying,  girls, if ,they are out, on the roads or at market places. They, then becomes, a true victim, to these assaults. So girls often do not go out to avoid the mishappenings. There is a saying too which is most popular and is commonly used by these road Romeos.(The sadak Chaps) ,"BURA NA MANO HOLI HAI" which means "please do not mind it's HOLI" . Taking this shield they harass girls. The same was happening with us from the other parties, on the terrace of the opposite building. Now my cousin brothers were fury with anger and they were in a mood to fight it though. First they started flying the balloons filled with water with good aims. It was hitting them but they started ducking now. Since the building was in height, their hideouts couldn't be seen.

My brothers were planning what to do next how to aim them properly, wherein my Amma (mother) came to us with eatables. She had bought a plate full of ripened jackfruit. We washed our hands and started hogging. Just at that moment seeing our silence, heads from the opposite building started popping out and lo! My cousin brothers got a lot of jackfruit peels and aiming a good aim they started throwing the peels just like gun shots. They  threw the hard skin of jackfruit on to their faces and what a good aim. Their faces were smeared with jackfruit pulp. And here my brothers started shouting " BURA NA MANO HOLI HAI" we too joined in making funny faces, what a "Holi" it was, how well we all played till afternoon in the festival mood.

My cousin brothers now decided to go to their office colleagues place for celebrations and masti. And guess what happened....

Most of  them returned laughing and mostly crying ......

 "BHANG KA NASHA CHAD CHUKA THA"

The "BHANG" had played it's tricks. ......

😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

        "HOLI HAI "

Pic courtesy: Google Images 

Pic courtesy : Kasturi restaurant Kolkata 

" HELP "

Today on this International Women's Day, I dedicate my post to all those "HELP" around us who help us out to smoothen our day to day life.

The most important one being the House Maid or the Nanny.

Here I will  pen down about my daughter's Nanny BASANTI. I had written earlier, in my older post, "Chutki", about me, being a Govt. Servant and also, about an additional help, I will be referring her in this post.Since, I was hesitant to leave my child in a creche or daycare, I had taken an year long leave, along with my maternity leave, to look after my little baby, until I could find a good caretaker. As luck would have it, my distant relative arranged it for us. Basanti was a house help working for them. She used to work in many household to maintain her family of six children. Thus she insisted that she should be paid a good amount, as, from now on, she would have to leave all the rest of the  household jobs.  Since she was trustworthy and has been working at my cousin's house for a long time, we agreed to her demand.

Basanti came to our home to care for my little angel. She was an eight month's old baby just learning to sit. We kept an additional help to do the mopping, dusting, washing,and  cleaning the utensils. I had asked Basanti not to do any other house hold work . She was advised, to just, focus, on my Chutki. I was at ease when I handed over my baby to her. I joined my duty with a peaceful  mind. I was sure my baby is in safe hands. 

Basanti looked after my child well. I missed out most of my child's earlier years of growing up. She tackled her teething, her first step, her babbling, all missed out by me. Now the time had arrived for my baby 's admission to the kindergarten. Here too Basanti was a great help. She would come early and would accompany my little angel to her Kindergarten in her school bus and would wait outside till the school gets over. 

We never give a heed to these things, we often take them ( people like Basanti) for granted,  " oh so what they are paid na", without realising the value of those moments and the sacrifices they have done to protect our child's well being. I am really greatful to God to have send this good soul to us to help us out in the need of the hour.

Basanti was with us till my daughter started going to college. She took immense care in her adolescence her higher studies, tensions, mood swings, carrying her to her tution classes her extra caricular activities. All she carried out well.

She had to leave due to her health conditions and plus her son's too were now working and her financial conditions improved so they too didn't wanted her to work any more. 

She is still in touch with us,me, and my daughter, makes an effort, to visit,  her place, once a year, to checkout on her whereabouts, and well being.

Like her there are so many out there, helping us out. Like the Jadu Pocha wali, Koodawali, Dhoban, Sweeper, ........so many.

God bless them all without their help we all would have been in a chaotic situation and our back would have been bend under the overburdened work. 

They are our unsung heroes who play a vital role in our life.

A big salute🙋‍♀️ to these women who help us out unconditionally.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Label: Tribute 

Pic courtesy: Google Images 

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Chembu kootaan( Taro roots curry)

 Ingredients 

1. Taro roots   : 1/2 kg

2.  Turmeric powder: 1/2 teaspoon 

3. Chilli powder: 1 teaspoon 

4. Shallots or small onions chopped ( 1/2 cup)

5. Curry leaves a few

6. Coconut oil for tampering : 2 table spoon

7. Salt to taste

8. Water : for boiling 

Method:

Clean the Taro roots well. Remove the skin. Cut it into small pieces. Mom used to make this in ( kal chetti) black stone vessel. You can try out in clay pots too or the easy way in cooker. Add the washed cleaned and cut Taro roots in the vessel add turmeric powder, chilli powder, salt and water. Water should be  1 inch above the taro. It should be well soaked. Now boil the whole thing until it's soft and mushy. Check the salt. Add curry leaves and remove from fire.

If you are making in a cooker add the taro roots cut into pieces chilli powder, turmeric powder and salt with two cups water and boil until four whistle. Cool it down open the lid and add curry leaves.

Now for the tempering, heat a small pan add two table spoon coconut oil when hot add the chopped onions or shallots, fry until brown. Add this tempering to the boiled taro mixture. Mix well and your curry is ready to be eaten with steamed rice.

Best accompaniment is lemon pickle.

Cherish this curry with hot steamed rice, roasted papad and lemon pickle.

Label: Mom's Delight 

The Birthday

What does a birthday actually mean? Is it just a day to celebrate one's birth? Or is it a reminder of one's accountability on this earth? Or is it a ticking time bomb? Or is it a calling for bonds, bonding, and binding? I think it's all of these, but bonds, bonding, and binding are the most prominent.

The birth of a child in a family is a calling for celebration, as you welcome the new member who has just landed on planet Earth. The child doesn't bear a name or identity at birth. They are just a child with a throbbing heart. Within hours, the child is introduced to their mother, who bore them in her womb for nine months. Next, they meet their father, whose name will be their identity in this materialistic world.

This bundle of joy is now adored by maternal and paternal grandparents, uncles and aunts, and, of course, cousins. Within weeks, the child is given a name with their parents' taglines. The life journey has begun, and the child is cycling through the cycle of birth, bearing an identity with parents and relatives.

The child, now a tender flower in the basket of relationships, is basking in the bonds, bonding, and binding. They are now bonded with the rope of parental love and tangled in it. A year passes, and it's time to celebrate the child's birth as their birthday. The bonds are tightening now.

The child is introduced to extended families and the outside world, entering the world of bonding. With much pomp and show, the birthday is celebrated by the parents as a part of their prestige. As a one-year-old, the child can't even recognize what a celebration is about, but unknowingly gets affixed into the world of pride and prestige.

The child is now in the shackles of their parents' identity and pride. Years pass, and the child becomes a teenager. The pride and prestige are no longer their cup of tea. They want to break free from the shackles and proceed on their journey of self-recognition.

Alas, in this journey of self-recognition, the human is again bonded and affixed into further relationships, but still unable to break through the shackles of their birth and find their true identity. As the years phase out, the human starts counting their accountability and credits to this world, not realizing they are moving towards the ticking time bomb.

Time has taken a toll on their health, and they are nearing the ticking time bomb, which is getting ready to explode at any moment. With every passing year, I too am getting nearer to the ticking time bomb. I don't know if I can fulfill my accountability to this materialistic world, but I am counting my blessings, which I have through relationships, bonds, and bonding. Time is phasing out... hoping to celebrate another birthday ahead.

Label : Emotional expression 

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The batch

A year had been passed since I have penned down a post on my blog. A complete block. Nothing was recollecting in my memory. I felt lost. 

I am bouncing back now and am taking you all once again to my memory lane.

This time the lane is towards my career.  

I,alongwith, my graduation, had appeared for the All India Staff Selection Examination, for a Govt. Job. This was as per the guidance of my dear husband. He was very passionate of me graduating and getting a Govt job. As luck would have it and also by the Grace of God I got selected in the examination and got a Govt. Job in Delhi.

My whole family was thrilled as well as sad at the same time. My Amma and Accha was sad since I was going far away to an unknown place. I was now a mother too, to a year old boy. The sorrow of separation was very much overwhelming.  In all these emotional scenario, my husband was the strongest, in control of emotions, and was guiding us to be practical, he asked us to think, the overall benefits,  a Govt. Job can give.

He wasn't a bit afraid of the hardships I and he might face in an unknown state. Thus with his undeterred  determination we decided to move ahead.

I came along with my Acchan, to Delhi, to join my duty, leaving behind my son, an year old little boy, and also my husband, who could possibly, join me, to this new place, only, if he gets a transfer. Thus both my husband and son stayed back in my maternal home.

Since it was the All India Staff Selection Examination, many candidates from different States too, had come over, to join the Govt Department. Thus a whole batch from Kerela, Tamilnadu, Andhra Pradesh, Uttarpradesh Kolkata were, there, to join their duties. We were a batch of 80 candidates. The lobby of the Government office, seemed to me as a College corridor, with all youngsters, who were nearly, at the age of just  21-22 only, with full aspirations. All, together, at one place, to become a govt. servant. We all introduced each other, as well as, were, also trying, to find our own comfort zones. I was the only one who was married and a mother too. Thus a slight hesitant behaviour of mumble jumble towards me was evident. They all weren't fully confident with local language and thus to have a fluent conversation with the officials was difficult for them. Since, I  had come from Kolkata I was well conversant with the Hindi language, the local language.  

I tried to figure out their language problems and tried to help them in regard to their appointment letters, joining letter, and their posting. A ray of hope of friendship bloomed and all slowly became close to me.

The HR officials confirmed our joining and also about a month long waiting period, for posting us to different offices. Thus we all had plenty of time in our hands, to explore the city and also to know each other well. All were in search of a place to stay. Girls and boys were rushing to find hostels. Me being married couldn't get a place in the Girls hostel. Thus I was in search for a rental accommodation.

In the meantime my father -in-law came as an aid to me and found out a distance relative with whom I can be accommodated till my husband's arrival and until we find a new rented house. Thus me and Acchan reached their place of stay with my baggage. They were really a good souls and with no further questions readily agreed to help me stay with them. I stayed with them for three months or more. I became a family member to them sharing my insecurities and all the ups and downs, together we were bonded into  a strong bond. I will put down in details of this in some other posts.

Now my gang( our batch )of youngsters decided to utilise our time in hand in exploring, doing masti and also to learn the local language. We all would gather in the lobby and would March towards the canteen. The tea and bread pakoda was really excellent, and we all would gorge to the fullest. We all will just forget about Hindi and would chit chat full on, in Malayalam, all hustle bustle and also creating a big disturbance to others. But neigh, who bothered we were into our jolly good moods. All youth bubbling out.

People used to call us " Hey Madrasi"  dabbe mein kankad bajana band kar " they used to interpret our Malayalam language as shaking a tin filled with pebbles, (just imagine the  noice it might create!!). They sensed the same with our language, and would, always, taunt us. A rift started building up with North Indian and South Indians. And we distanced ourselves avoiding tiffs.

But as the saying goes " Pani mein rah kar magarmach se beir," ( means staying in water you cannot be an enemy to a crocodile 🐊 ) we gradually became their close associate and assistant too.

We became a close nit family and were there for each other in any calamities and also in celebrations. We all got our posting and were posted in different offices in the city. Our holidaying came to an end and all were into positioning their own duties. So much humour too, went through learning the local language, such as, someone hopping on to the bus going to Lal Quila and asking  whether this bus will go to Red Fort. Some going to the market to buy onions and instead of saying "1kilo pyaz de do" saying "1 kilo pyar de do" and facing the embarassment, and someone holding on tightly to the Hindi language and addressing Post Office as Dak Khana, "Dak Khana kaha hai" and all into  🤔❗❗ faces. All these, were, real fun.

A decade has gone now, and on this journey we lost our two valuable colleagues. We celebrated intercaste marriage and marriage between our colleagues. House warming, Children, Birthdays, Children's Marriage and what not.. 

All now taking a U turn towards exit ( all into retirement ages, and within a span of two years our batch would be disbursed) again to ones own destination. 

The journey continues......... with dreams to an another openings ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

NB :  

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Independent

How can one define Independence and being Independent. This is definitely a word which will transform into various meaning and measure in accordance to the understanding one has or have to this word. It may differ according to one's experience in life and may add a gist to it.

In this post I would be focusing on such aspects which touched my heart and opened a new meaning to me. Once again traveling through the memory lane.

This is the era of 70s and 80s. Online shopping and door to door delivery may be the new concept today,  but I  have experienced this door to door delivery concept in my childhood itself. " Chawal wali" (Moni Maa) She was called thus. She was the one who used to bring sacks of rice to our home every month. As I had mentioned earlier my family was huge with extended members thus consumption of food too was in large quantities, and, as such, Acchan had arranged for regular supply of the commodities. (Moni Maa) was a drak fragile lady with a pleasant aura. She used to adorn saree in traditional bengali way. Clean bright starched cotton saree.  Her presence was a pleasing to the eyes. Amma too loved her presence. Moni Maa was a monthly visitor to us. She would come to our house for delivering the sack of 🌾 rice.  Along with  rice she would be carrying her harvest of vegetables and eggs too. So we used to get  some fresh farm picked vegetables to relish. She used to stay in the outskirts of the city and would travel all the way to the city in train to deliver her goods. She would arrive early in the morning by 7am and would sit down for a chit chat for hours.  Amma would come to know about the outside world and updates of her village life and about other harvest etc through her chit chatting. She will spend hours sitting in our terrace doing small chores thus helping Amma, lighten her burden that day. Amma used to give her food and tea. Sometimes she used to pamper us with an oil massage and would comb our hair, singing  songs. The famous viral song 🎶" Bade loger beti re lamba lamba chool🎶 which was booming now days was the one which I had listened very very early during my childhood days from this " Chawal wali" it's actually a folk song. She would be brimming with joy, while  singing out these songs to us. After finishing all these chores, she will measure the required kilograms of rice, needed by Amma, and would transfer the same to the large storage drums. She would take leave after getting her payment from Amma. Thus almost a whole day would be spent by her in our house with a good exchange of talks on related things. 

On those days I never used to give heed to these people who would be visiting my house. It was just normal to me. Amma and her buddies was the name given by me. I never used to realise their hardship. It was only when I started working did I knew,  that no matter what; all other persons/ people out there on the road, whether big or small is all, into earning their livelihood and living. This famous song "lamba lamba chool" brought into my memory the "Chawal wali" and her hardship, and me into a new realisation. To get her life going she was into this duty of selling rice all the way from her village to the city. For she knew very well that she can earn more in the city, rather than in her village. Wasn't this, her independent thinking, wasn't she capable of nurturing her family. Wasn't she enjoying a free spirited moments while visiting houses and chitchatting. The most important part of all this was the decision made by her to do something for her family, instead of begging for alms. That's real independence and being independent, I would say. The independence to think, to act, and to survive. I feel really proud thinking now, that, she though being an illiterate was able to keep track of account of her goods and selling, and thus helped her family from starving and begging.

Education gives us a more way of dignified life and way of thinking, no doubt.  But I salute all those people out there, who all are putting efforts to make a living with what ever abilities and capabilities they have instead of relying on begging and looting. To me this is being independent and independence.

Now time has changed with new level of technology and education. People have understood the importance of education and are giving importance to studies and also into living a dignified life. More and more people are into working and earning. Better independent thinking whether you are a men or a women has transformed the world and countries into  growing nations.

Free your self  and be yourself.

xxx...............xxx............xxx

Pic courtesy: Google images 

Chutki

In this post, I would now highlight the pranks played by my chutki ( my angel my daughter).

My little angel arrived in my life as a surprise as well as a gift. My son was born in Kolkata and I was a homemaker busy with studying, job application, and attempting govt employment exams. Lucky enough I cleared the All India  based Staff Selection Examination and got into a Government job in Delhi. 

Me and family shifted to Delhi. Now the main concern was a lookout for a creche for my son who was just 2 yrs old then. The area where we stayed didn't have any government creche so we had to put our son in the local creches run mainly by homemakers. We were just settling down with all these new hustle bustle and as such the idea of having a second child was far far behind. Our whole focus was now, on our only child, how to take care of him, with all the love and care, was our priority, since, we both were working parents, and also due to shortage of valuable time. Time was running with a quick pace and now we focused to move from rentals to having our own house. This by the grace of God happened in the year 1994 and our happiness knew no bounds when we received our little angel in this house the next year. Our angel is a gift to us from God and a blessing of our new home. Our Laxmi has arrived.

My little master who is now 9yrs, all of sudden became bro daddy. He was all concerned and caring of his little sister. My Govt job too gave me ample opportunity to have leave and to be with my children. I took a long unpaid leave for a year to look after my little angel, and now the concern was to look out for a nice caretaker, for both children. I didn't want to put my tiny tot into a creche, as I have had a bad experience;  my poor boy suffered a lot of bullying etc. So I wanted to be cautious this time. Luckily with the help of my cousins (good hearted people) I got a good caretaker for my chutki. I was tension free and joined my duty with ease.

Life was moving on busy with routine schedules. My chutki too was growing up, she is now a 2 yrs old bubbly chubby . She has started doing all odd things children usually do. Putting fingers in sockets, climbing everywhere possible, catching hold of the things which is not reachable, hanging over, on to sofa and chair edges, and eating such eatables, like chocolates, butter,(she loved butter) cheese slices etc., which is not meant for her.

I had an habit of hogging on something eatable after coming from office. I would be dead hungry by the time I returned back so after freshening up,  I would just try out something to eat going quickly into the Kitchen. This routine of mine was well aware to chutki.

It so happened that my chutki was down with stomach upset and slight fever. As I said she liked to have the food which I would be having she would catch hold on to my plate to see what I am having, since she was small I avoided giving her, any spicy or oily food. Her food was light with veggies. She loved butter a lot. She would sneek into kitchen, pull the fridge door open and would have butter slyly. Since she was sick I was very cautious about  her sneeking into kitchen, so I tried to ajar the door slightly while cooking.

This happened one such day me as usual after coming from office rushed into the kitchen to make something to crush my hunger pangs. Sadly that day I had only bread and butter in fridge. To avoid chutki from coming into the kitchen I just slightly ajar the door of the kitchen. My little master was sound asleep in his bedroom and my caretaker too, took her leave and went home. I was busy making my plate of bread and butter when the door got shut behind my back. I turned around to unlock the door and lo! to my surprise I was locked inside the kitchen: my chutki has locked me inside with good latch locking. I was banging on the door asking her to open. But the poor thing could not, understand or knew how to open. My little master was sound asleep and was in his dream world. I had no idea what to do. How to get out. At that time we didn't have any neighbour. And moreover since I was working I rarely met anyone in my apartment thus didn't knew anyone. We were staying on the top floor my sound would not reach anywhere even if I shout out from the Kitchen window. My banging on the door has now startled my chutki and she,  started crying 😭. I was trying to pacify her from inside since she could not see me she was howling more. I was now fully drenched with sweat no fan in the kitchen, hot and humid. There was no mobile phone at that time.  I was completely perplexed. I tried calling out to my son loudly. My poor thing was in deep sleep, he could not hear me.

As luck would have it I didn't locked the main wooden entrance door. The entrance, net grill door was latched, and the balcony net grill door too was opened. Since it was so hot I had kept the windows and doors of the hall, facing balcony, open. I think God heard my prayers. My hubby dear was a late comer. His job was demanding, and he usually reaches home by 9pm only. Luckily on that day he came early. He reached by 7pm. He can see my chutki crying through the net door. He had rung the bell too, hearing the sound of bell I knew someone was at the door, he called out to me,  I told him that I am locked inside the kitchen and chutki is not able to unlatch the lock. He had a good presence of mind. He called chutki near him through the door. She was the darling of Papa and listened to him too. She had a lovely cute red chair which was her favourite. He asked her to bring that to the door. Chutki lovingly bought that to the door. He asked her to climb on to it. She did so, now from outside, he showed her to unlock the latch with action, on the latch other side, he was instructing her to unlatch the lock....khecho molu dheere dheere krick....krick karte jao molu. She did everything shown by him and oh God the latch was unlocked. He just got inside quickly hugged chutki profoundly and rushed to the kitchen unlocked it and brought me out. I was completely drenched with sweat and was exhausted. I rushed to the bedroom to rest clutching my angel to my bosom.

That was a lesson to us. After this we covered all the sockets and all the latch locking holes with paper and cello tapes.

My chutki my quite cuddle did the unexpected and had us a real time. My Kumbakaran(my little master)too got good  bashing from his daddy. The day ended thus with all careful and necessary arrangements to tackle future commotions.

My chutki is now a damsel.

Mom's special Rava Cake

 Ingredients

1. Rava/ Sooji ( Semolina) 1 cup

2. Jaggery 1/2 cup

3. Dry fruits ( cashew, almond and raisins) 1/4 cup

4. Cardamom powder 1 teaspoon

5. Ghee 1 and 1/2 table spoon 

6. Baking soda and baking powder  1/2 teaspoon 

Method

1. Sieve the rava alongwith baking powder and baking soda keep aside.

2. Heat a kadai put the jaggery powder along with 1/2 cup water to boil. Let it boil and dissolve completely turning into a syrup. Boil the dissolved jaggery for five minutes. Let it cool

3. Mix the rava in the cooled down jaggery syrup mix well, keep it aside for 10 minutes.

4. Chop the cashew and almonds into small pieces

5. Add the chopped cashew, almonds and raisins into the rava mix. Mix well add the cardamom powder and one tablespoon ghee.

6.  Now grease the cake tray with the remaining 1/2 teaspoon ghee nicely. Pour the mixture into a cake tray or any deep round tray.

7. Heat a steamer and steam the cake for 20 minutes on low flames.

8. Check it with a knife. If the knife comes out clean it's done. It's cooked well.

9. Switch off the flame remove the tray from the steamer and let it cool down completely.

10. Loosen the side of the cake with a knife and remove the cake into a plate by tapping it upside down

The cake is now ready to be served.

The innocence

Some happenings just leave an imprint on your memory pad. I am quoting down such a memory of mine. This was the year 1996, I was now a mother to two children, one 9yrs old and the other six months. I had come down to Kolkata,  alongwith my kids, to enjoy some precious moments, with my parents, and to straighten my back. My 9yr old, was the apple of eye, of his grandparents, and he took full advantage to do all pranking. On the other side, my chutki was a calm child without much disturbance. She could be adjusted anywhere with a bottle of milk. So Amma didn't have much trouble taking care of her. As you're aware one gets a breath of utter freedom in one's parental home and I took all advantage of it, by going out with my friends, shopping, cinema etc, without any worries of my children. You know, they are in safe hands. My frequent outing without the kids, was now taking a toll on my 9yr old son. He started putting tantrums and asked his Muttassha(grandpa) to take him for sight seeing. Muttasha the epitome of love promised him too, that, he would take him in the evening. But as luck would have it, he was once again busy with his business schedules and couldn't make it, thus he sent his car, with Driver  Kaka, to take the little one, for a ride to Metro Station. Kolkata was the only city, which was having an underground Metro, at that time. And also, it was a tourist attraction. My little one jumped over with joy and got ready to go. Our Driver Kaka, was a sincere one and takes good care too; but, I somehow got this feeling, of not letting the little one go all alone, with the driver. I just dumped my chutki in  my Amma's hand and went along with my son.

Park Street Metro 🚇 Station was the largest and well maintained one. So Acchan had asked to go there first, and from there to go sight seeing, places like Esplanade, The boat ferry ⛴️ etc. We reached the Metro station and got down to the platform via stairs. Once on the platform my prankster started running around, and he, spotted the escalator. The escalator was new to him and to me too. The driver Kaka took him to the escalator, he would now climb from the one side, and would escalate down the other side, he was fully engrossed in this game of his, with Driver Kaka watching over him. I  too, was watching him and the Metro platform simultaneously.   A Metro train, was now on the platform, with passengers rushing out, and pushing in. I was, now concentrating on the Metro Station announcement, and as I turned around to hold the hand of my little one, he was nowhere to be seen; lo! Within a fraction of a second he had given me a slip, as well as to Driver Kaka, and he was now inside the metro with closed doors, leaving me and Kaka outside the boggie. My heart stopped a beating and I started banging on the doors, well aware  that it would not open at all, by my banging. I was running madly on the platform banging all boggie doors. The Metro was leaving the Station with my child, who was now with the strangers. My mind and body was frozen with fear, my voice choked,  I couldn't come to my senses for a minute. I didn't know what to do. Driver Kaka shook me up, assuring me not to worry, the child can be tracked down in the next coming station with the announcements, he said. There is a system of announcement inside the train, of which I wasn't  aware off. I rushed to the Station Master alongwith Driver Kaka and told him everything, he said he would make an announcement, and would ask the next Station Master to Check and bring out the child from the boggie and take care of him.

We took the upcoming Metro, and reached the next Station,  Kalighat. I rushed out quickly and ran towards the Station office, Kaka following after me running madly. I reached the office and saw my prankster quietly chit chatting with the Station Master, I was hell bound to crush him with anger 😠 but seeing his innocent smile, my heart melted down, and I just hugged and kissed him profoundly crying my heart out. I just couldn't imagine the mishappenings happening to him. It was by the grace of God and my parents blessings that he was safe. And I don't know, maybe, the people in the boggie too were good souls, nobody harmed or took advantage of a lonely child. My poor thing, he knew only the address of Delhi home. Some gentleman, was frequently asking him, about his parents and his home address, and he was just quoting down saying "mein Abhilash, Delhi mein rahta hu Mayur Vihar" . The Station Master gave out this details to me when he was doing the enquiry with the metro passengers.  I thanked everyone. Specially the Station Master and to Driver Kaka for taking a good stand and thinking right in the moment. His presence of mind did the doing, and my child was safe. Amma had asked me frequently to visit Kali Maa and take her blessings. But I  shrugged off and avoided, saying I will definitely go before leaving to Delhi. And see how my Kali Maa saved my child from all mishappenings and that too at the Kalibari Metro station. I didn't think much I didnt go for sight seeing etc., on that day,  I couldn't bring myself to senses. Nothing in this world mattered to me than the safety of my child. I took my little one in my arms and asked Driver Kaka to take me and my child for darshan of Maa Kali. I prayed and thanked her for keeping us safe. I returned back home. My Amma sensed something wrong and asked about it , I told my sis and my Amma everything that happened. They too were in a fix; advising, me to be careful and to keep this a secret. This secret was buried in my heart, till my child turned himself, to be, alone and working. It was on his first visit to home, on his official vacation, is when I told him, and also to my hubby dear, to whom my son is his heart throb. 

A chill, still, runs down my nerve even now, whenever I think of this incident.

So many children out there, is a victim to circumstances, and becomes a prey, to the crime world. I just pray for everyone, and every child, who are heart throbs to their parents.

God forbid such incidents from all children and protect them.

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Holidaying

Holidaying, or holiday: this essence I experienced to my heart's content a week and half ago when my cousin alongwith his family paid a visit to my place and intended staying with me. The centre of attraction was his little daughter who glued everyone to her innocent talks, and self created games. Lived a life, and enjoyed a splendid holiday myself too, after a long long time with all the gupshup, home made foods, small fights round table conference and to top it up all, the cute little one's photoshoot and telephonic  technology. I really appreciate my cousin brother's decision to stay with me and spent his time with us, instead of putting up into luxurious hotels. The real meaning of holiday, hope, he too might have experienced it the way I felt. 

Penning down some memories of my childhood  holidays...taking you all once again to my memory lane.

As the title suggests Holiday and holidaying were not specific or weren't planned Holidays in those days. To us holiday meant spending time with your loved ones..... your grandparents, your cousins. It was never a  planned holiday; staying in hotels, going through the brochure, exploring the places of sightseeing etc.,  wasn't our affair.  It was just holiday; to be far away from school, from home, from city and off course from the daily routines. We all eagerly wait, the whole year, for this moment of ours, to our native place, Kerela, where our grand parents lived. It was a real bliss being there, the whole one month. Yes a whole month. Summer holidays....

 

I don't know whether it was the magic of that era or whether the people were that much genuine, for nobody was bothered about the other staying with them for a month. All will be chirping with excitement and will welcome everyone with open heart, the warmth of the reciprocations, can't be penned down in words, one has to experience it. Real wonderful souls were they. The ancestral home being the house of our grand parents, all cousins, who ever were staying outside the native place would be visiting during the summer holidays. And mostly school holidays, would fall in the same month, for everyone too. What a lovely get together.....uncles, aunts, cousins the house will be full of laughter joy and aromatic (the aroma of cooked food and cooking emitting from the kitchen). Really how cool we used to feel. We, children, were the most excited. We never used to do any household work, and were never bothered to listen,  to the saying of elders,  for there were plenty of places to escape and run without heeding to their calls. Sleeping and sleeping patterns too, were in haphazard ways one would cosy up oneself to whichever places available cuddling up to each other in corridors, veranda, underneath the staircase etc. Wonderful days were those, no tension, no worries, blissful days.

As I had already quoted down in my earlier posts, my grandma, was an ardent lady with overflowing love for everyone, so scolding or briefing wasn't her accord. She would just pour out her heart to us. So we all were pampered a lot. We would get up early in the morning chirping like birds and would que around the well to brush our teeth. We wouldn't, be brushing our teeth with Colgate and toothbrush. There was a special tooth powder made out of the burnt husk of rice.(mukkerri) This would be kept in mud pots mixed with salt. All would take this in their palm rub it to a fine powder and would apply to the teeths using the finger, massaging it to our teeth and gums. Wow !! what a wonderful experience it was; all would proudly be showing his/her teeth, and a competition would begin within a second to see whose teeth are brighter and sparkling.  An hour or two would be spent like this.

Next is the time to take bath. All will wait for someone, or any elder to take them to the river side. My Amma was the leader to lead all the kids to the river. She would carry a bundle of clothes for washing along with the battalion of kids. All would flock around her and would be moving singing songs, fighting plucking weeds etc. The river, being a bit far from the house, would give us ample time to enjoy with each other, bullying, teasing, playing and what not. Once we reach the river side, all would plunge into the water and my Amma's shouting and scolding wouldn't be a hearing factor to anyone at all. We all will be swimming, will be splashing water on each other,  and will be playing many water games, diving etc. Real splendorous bath. An hour would be spent like this, and our stomach would now be growling. We all would now rush ahead to reach home as quickly as possible to pounce on the food, KANJI. 

Yes,  KANJI (Rice gruel), this may sound astounding or awful to many thinking what is so special about it????????

Hmmm it is, it was, very very very special to us, boiling hot rice gruel mixed with homemade cow ghee, papadam, kondatum( dried fried vegetables) and chamandi( coconut tamarind chutney). After the nourishing bath, to have this hot and sumptuous rice gruel was indeed a treat to the soul. We all will be sitting in a circle on the floor with patram and plaayilla(plate and spoon made with jackfruit leaf)for the hot rice gruel to be served to us. Then will begin the fight for the papadam and kondatum. All will be needing more and more not satisfied with what has been served to one. Oh!! I can visualise those scenes even now, with my eyes closed. What cool days were those. Once done with breakfast all will rush out into the thodi (courtyard, orchard) to play until the call for lunch arrives. All will be enjoying a heartful game without any toys, without any worries of the world. We never knew what worries or tension were. While playing around we would be waiting for our native cousins, staying near by place to join us, too. They will then share their experiences, in their school, their studies, etc., and a good exchange of knowledge will happen.  The days, will be  spent thus, with visit to each other's houses, meeting elders, and exploring orchards. A month will pass by, in the warmth of elders, and, with no un due demands from the young ones and children. All will bade good bye without any regret in their hearts, promising eachother to meet again in the next summer holidays.

Now bygone are those days, or can I say that nobody is bothered to spend such days with their loved ones. With the fast pacing world of technology, our way of thinking too has changed; why so? is still a question?? Why people feel it a obligation why is the mind, instead of widening, narrowed down. Why does everyone think it's a disturbance and distrubing to someone's privacy and daily routine. May be a knock on their door is what they might be waiting for. May be they await a call from their loved ones, to be with them to mess up their routine schedule. When did this feeling of obligation, disturbance, disturbing came into the dictionary of relationship, I don't know.

Yes really blessed I am to have a relished, peaceful, joyful moments of real holidays with my loved ones.

Awaiting more of such responses

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Mystical

Human and human life is an unsolved mystery. How ever far you try to understand it, it gets  entangled in million tangles. One loop into another. The birth itself is a tangle. You wouldn't be free unless the cord is cut. The cut, sets you free to be a separate entity and to breathe but what awaits is the journey of emotional bonds and bondage. Why so? Why do you get tangled? The first touch, the first human touch, from where, begins the flow of warmth, this nectar, warms up your nerves with so much energy, that you keep on  rowing the boat of life.  Yes your journey has begun. Now you are not just a piece of flesh; you are now a son or a daughter. You might have a home, you might have guardians, you might be having mom, dad, grand parents or might even be having a sister or brother.( The entangling of loops.)  You are now entwined into the world of  care,caring and upbringing. The unconditional love entangles you into the first phase, the first  loop (Parental love). You are moving ahead, you are growing, you are a teen now, the law of attraction plays it's game thrusting you into another tangle the heart throbs. This is the second phase,the second loop,(the loop of  love or lust). The boat is rowing, you keep on moving towards the third phase of your journey, the journey into the wide world of experiences and exploration. You now try to untie the shackles of bond and bondages the first attempt of untangling. You feel like an achiever, proud of your attempts to untie the shackles but, unknowingly, you are binding into the bondages of another loop. The third loop (The loop of commitment). Yes now you're entangled into, to, begin a family of your own. You would now either be a wife or a husband. The journey now has come to a full circle; but you have to keep rowing you have to keep going. The tangles aren't untangled yet. From the picture of being a husband and a wife to parents and parental responsibilities the fourth phase begins. The fourth loop (The loop of Parenting) the tangles are now tightening it's grip on you, you love this tightening you enjoy the wriggle and slowly your focus turns to the grip; you are still feeling the breath and breathing, you feel at ease. That's when questions queries starts popping up why am I at ease why isn't the grip tightening? Is it the loop? Oh let me make it golden. Now you want a golden loop, no ordinary one will do, what if it breaks down? What if it's untangled? You weave the web of emotions spreading your eight arms, the arms love, warmth, care, bondings, sacrifices, adjustments, justification,and expectations. Expectations?? That's when the golden loop tightens further as expected by you, it tightens, it is tightening, but now, it's chocking you, you are suffocating, you are breathless. Once again you are trying to break open the shackles, but alas, the loop is golden now. No it won't break, it's fool proof. Tightened by the golden loop, you keep rowing, the boat of life, and that's when you enter the fifth phase, the phase of rejection, the phase of resentment, the phase of desolation. This is the final loop (The loop of acceptance).  You accept the entangling and tangles, you are in no mood to try to shrug it off, the shackles are tightening it's claws, the nectar flowing in your nerves has come down to its last drop it's no more giving you the energy, but, you will have to keep rowing. No, you have not reached the other end. It's far far away, daily you take a step forward and daily it rifts away, the waves of mystery and mystical sea just keep flowing.

The tides of this mystical sea keep striking on, it doesn't follow any calculations it takes away with it the most unexpected, Yes the most unexpected, what? did you question it, did you question it's decisions? no,! you can't, for its mystical it will never answer. Are you waiting for your turn to reach the other end? You must keep rowing the boat of life, you must, wait for your turn with unsolved questions and queries. You are numb now, you are spell bound, the mystical spell has been cast  the unbreakable spell. The spell of hope and aspirations, it's, taking you, again, to the land, called life. It's mystery and will remain mystical.

Label: Emotional expression 

N.B. 

This is a tribute to all my family members who took the journey of heavenly abode some in most unexpected way and time.

Pic courtesy:  Google pics

Bread Rolls

  Ingredients

1. White bread 🍞 1 loaf

2. Potatoes 1/2 kg

3. Chilli powder 1 teaspoon

4. Crushed coriander seeds 1 teaspoon

5. Crushed pepper corn 1 teaspoon

6. Cumin powder 1 teaspoon

7. Chat masala 1 teaspoon

8. Kala namak,( Black Rock Salt) 1 teaspoon 

9. Coriander leaves chopped two tablespoon

10 Aamchur powder (dried mango powder) 1/2 teaspoon

11. Hing  a pinch 

12. Turmeric powder 

13. Oil for frying

Method

Step -1.  

For filling- boil the potatoes and let it cool down, peel and mash with hand taking care to just crumble not to make a paste. Add all the spices, chopped coriander leaves, chat masala, amchur and kala namak. 

Step -2. 

Take out the bread slices and cut the sides( crust), take water in a shallow plate slightly dip and wet the bread slices, slowly squeeze out the water without breaking the bread slice. Keep the filling in the centre and fold into a cylindrical shape securing the filling and sealing the edges. Keep it aside. Make many more cylindrical roll in the same way with the rest of the bread pieces.

Step- 3. 

Heat a Khadai with enough oil for deep frying. Keep the flame on medium heat. Now slowly add the prepared cylindrical rolls, two rolls at a time and fry until crisp and brown. Drain out the excess oil and place it on a kitchen towel, fry out the remaining rolls in the same way.

Step - 4  

The bread rolls are ready to be served. Serve hot with tomato sauce or with coriander chutney.

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The Coat

"What good is the warmth of summer without the cold of winter to give its sweetness"_ John Steinbeck

This quote fits perfectly for  mothers whose warmth and sweetness can never wither. My mind is once again wandering to the world of my childhood memories. Accha during my early days used to work in a Private firm in Patna. We were there for almost six years. Thus our(me and my immediate sibling's) initial schooling was done in Patna before moving in to Kolkata. I only have some very faded memories of that place.  I just remember the mango tree in our garden which used to have very large mangoes,  Amma's mango ice cream, which we both sisters used to relish, to our hearts content, my school, and visits to Circus. Amma used to say that Patna's winter was very very harsh. It was spine chilling. To protect oneself from harsh winter chills one had to wear lots of warm woollen clothes. Thus, Amma too had a collection of warmers with her, and one of the best warmer which she had was a long woollen coat hanging down till her knees. It was a very pretty soft light blue colour coat, which, she carried with her to Kolkata. Large buttons, side pockets, inner pockets and front pockets. The collar too was very pretty with a beautiful cut out. The coat gave a glamorous look to Amma. As the trend was, on those days, she wasn't looking less than a "memsaab".

This particular asset was a marvel in her cupboard. Whenever we used to open her cupboard we would, flaunt it by our looks, and touch it with an eagerness to own the same from Amma one day.

As described in my earlier posts, my house in Kolkata was quite big with two long corridors and a big verandah (open terrace). Our kitchen was at the far end from the rest of the rooms, near the verandah. The olden Bengali  houses was constructed in a particular way wherein the kitchen, as well as the bathroom cum toilets would be having a separate entity from the entire house thus it would mostly be away from the main hall and bedrooms. Our kitchen too was situated to the far end corner of the house, near to the verandah. Summer was cool enough in the evenings and working in the kitchen too was awesome due to the mild cool winds blowing down from the verandah entering through the kitchen windows. But winters had a sheer opposite effect, this  cool winds were a real torture and working in kitchen with this chilling atmosphere was an exercise in itself. Poor Amma had to make all efforts to keep herself comfortable. She would keep the window closed, but since the kitchen door cannot be closed always she had to bear the chills. Most often she would make us( me and immediate sis; the other two being very small never used to be with us) sit around the stove while Amma cooks. The warmth from the burning stove was soothing. Earlier, one used to keep the kerosene stove on the ground and cooking mostly was done sitting. Rotis were usually made on a chulha. Chulha was a bucket shaped clay stove which was burnt with coal and wooden pieces and had to be kept on to the ground only. Amma would serve us the food in the kitchen making us sit comfortably near the chulha, hot rotis would be served to each one of us. The kitchen though small used to feel as heaven to us with the warmth from the chulha, as well as from Amma, comforting us from the chills outside.The whole day's tale, stories, happenings in school, all was shared here between Amma and us, cherishing the food.

The kitchen though situated at the far end of the house was also, an extension, of the long corridor. In front of the kitchen, in the corridor, was kept a long bench, with  a small table for dining. This small dining was an arrangement for our busiest Acchan, by Amma, who would atleast sit for a while waiting for his breakfast or lunch and thus a small chit-chat with Amma. This seating arrangements were a boon for our neighbours too, visiting Amma. They would relax in the wee hours, sitting, chatting and listening to their favourite Ceylon Radio 📻. Amma too would relax sometimes sitting on this bench waiting for the cooker's whistle, waiting for the rice to boil etc.  Most welcoming part was the wait by us children to see Amma relaxing in the evenings. The wait was to cling around Amma. 

Now coming to my story part the 🧥 coat was so beautiful that Amma was hesitant in  wearing the same, and because of it's English look(Angrezi memsaab), Amma never encouraged herself on wearing the same anywhere outside.  As days flew by we grew into teens and my younger siblings into adolescents. The 🧥 coat in the cupboard too was gaining age with each passing year alongwith Amma. But Amma never wore it. Acchan always used to ask her to wear the same to protect herself from the harsh winds blowing outside the kitchen from the Verandah. But her passion and the concept of safequarding the things, shrugged her off, from wearing it, however far, she tried to. Every winter season were a torture to Amma, who would spend most of her time in kitchen with barely one sweater or shawl. My third sibling was very thin and weak with breathing problems so she would always be clinging to Amma. Amma used to pamper and take care of her a lot. In winters, the chill would become dangerous for our little sister, because, of her chest congestion and breathing problems. As my sister couldn't be kept away from Amma, the 🧥 coat turned out to be a boon to her. Amma finally allowed her 🧥 coat to wander outside the cupboard. The coat got a place, it was once again found hanging down, from Amma's body in a very passionate way. Our chutki would be kept covered completely, sitting on the lap of Amma, underneath the coat. We used to envy her and would wait for our turns to cling to Amma when she would be sitting on the bench relaxing.

As the saying goes, that mother knows all, Amma too would call out to us, and would make us all cling to her and she, just like the mother hen, would gather us all four underneath the 🧥 coat and would cover us up from harsh winter winds blowing outside. That precious moments, I cannot put into words here. It was sheer bliss a heaven and heavenly warmth which no heater can provide you. Still craving for that warmth.

It's a blessing to me that my Amma is still there with all of us. But as said, age and health issues has taken a toll on her.

Amma's look still give us the same warmth no matter how old we become.

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Ulliyyum mulagaum aracha koon curry.( Mushroom curry authentic style)

Mushroom

Ingredients

1. Mushroom 1/2 kg

2. Shallots 1 cup

3. Whole red chillies 4

4. Curry leaves a few

5. Cocunut oil a tablespoon

6. Salt to taste

7. Turmeric powder

8. Water for cooking 1 glass

Method

Wash and clean the mushrooms nicely. Cut or pinch the mushrooms to small pieces. Grind together shallots and whole red chillies to a paste in a mixer grinder or stone grinder.

Remove and keep aside. In clay pot or a steel pan cook the mushrooms  with turmeric powder, salt and a glass of water. When cooked add the grinded shallots chilli paste and cook for another five minutes. Add the curry leaves and coconut oil. Serve hot with boiled red rice.

Pic courtesy : Google images.

The Granduer

Dhumbataka taka taka taka....taka.... dudhum dudhum....dhumbataka......taka...taka...sound of Dhak. "Maa aaschhe Maa eesechhe Durga Durga," were the voices/noices emitting from the houses and buildings around, all heads hanging out from windows, verandah, terrace and balconies. The roads,  the by lanes all jam packed Maa is arriving to her " Baaper Badi",  these are the sound of acknowledgement of warm welcome to her and to her four children Maa Saraswati, Maa Lakhi, Sri Ganesha and Sri Kartikeya. 

Maa Durga idols are brought to the Puja Pandals on the evening of Panchami in tempos and trucks, with the beating of the Dhak, with the echoing  of "Durga mai ki jai" shank naad, with the clanging of thal and with the emitting purified dhuni smokes.  Standing in my balcony I used to watch all this admist the hulla bulla, the arrival of the year- long awaited festival,

 "THE DURGA PUJA".

The Dhak or dhol is a huge drum used during the Aarti in Puja Pandals. Durga Puja is the most important and incredible festival of Bengal,and especially  Bengalees. The sound of dhak is so overwhelming that it overpowers your senses and makes you sway to its dhun (sound) these overwhelming sound were emitting from every nook and corner of my para(area)from all the Puja Pandals, within a span of rarely 1 km. Loud speakers, light and lighting, would make the area live and lively for a span of six days, where the night merges with the day. The long awaited festival comes every year, with loads and loads of the challenges to the organisers(The Puja Committees). The Puja Pandals and the idol of Maa Durga,  were created and decorated in a special way with each and every Pandal being unique in itself, for, these Pandals and idols set an example and were always into competition with the other Pandals and also with other areas. Thus a real challenge to the idol makers as well as to the Pandal decorater.  Bengalis are creative people with creative mind so the Pandals are all mind blowing with incredible imagination. 

This was, and is, my favourite festival and I longingly wait for it the whole year. The spirit of Puja begins a month before the actual Puja day, shopping being the major part. In context to shopping, village melas too were organised in different parts of the city. Six days of self deck ups adoring oneself,  you have to look your best. "Notun kapod" this was necessary and we too used to get four sets of new clothes during the Durga Puja. No shopping for the rest of the year except your birthday dress. So the Kapdawala is approached in advance to deliver the clothes. And now, the search begins for different designs and a good tailor. Surely, you are lucky if you get one according to your taste and time. For the rush and time is hectic as well as precious. Next is the chanda collection by the organisers all para boys will be hopping door to door collecting chanda(donations). In between this one month a week prior to Puja comes the holy day" Mahalaya", The Devipaksha lunar day. This is the day of Amavasya where, in the early morning on the ghats of Ganga (River Hooghly) the Idol of Maa Durga is painted with the chantings of Chandi paat, Devimahatmyam, Mahishasura mardini shlokas. The artist begins painting, starting from the eyes. The eyes are painted first. All India radio would be playing the Mahalaya hyms by Birendra Krishna das, every houses would be playing the radio and listening. The aura is blissful with echoing mantras, since, it is believed that on the day of Mahalaya, Devi Maa Durga, is descending to the earth to bless her children. The thrill, the excitement begins from that day, and is up to the brim till the Puja day. 

"Shubho Shasti" the day begins with shubha mantras,  dhak baja, dhuni and chitter chatter of children. People from near by areas would be hooked onto the Pandals for four to five days, from early morning till late evening relishing the bhog prasad, evening dhuni dances and cultural programmes. Everyone would be coloured in the festive moods. Pandal hopping was the best part. All ladies and girls would be decked up in their best attire looking dashing and beautiful,swaying, giggling and dancing to the beats of the  dhak and to the film songs emitting from the loudspeakers. All ladies would look like angels and damsels. Each Pandals would be jam packed and crowded. People would throng to the food stalls and to the various other stalls set up by the hawkers. This thronging to food stalls was my favourite too, for, only on these four days we too were allowed to have our ways and also outside food. "Puchka" my favourite. I would relish this to my hearts content. There used to be a puchka eating competition, where, in a minute, you have to hog on as much puchka as you can. It was a real tough one but there were lots and lots of competitors and the richest was Puchkawala. All the hawkers were mostly from small villages and they loved Durga Puja since it filled their pockets with money for the entire year.

I would now take you all to one of my Pandal hopping experience. Evening was the most craziest during Puja. Girls loved to deck up and glanced for a admiring look too. Me too decked up in my best attire and dolled up with all Beauty products thought myself to be a heroine. Different hair styles foot wear earrings all in one go. I tried out the pencil pointer heels for the first time. Maxies and middies were in fashion and I wearing one was thinking myself to be, not less than Zeenat Aman. Thus flaunting myself I along with my friends were hopping Pandals. Here I would like to pen down some most exciting part of Puja and Puja celebrations. Young girls and boys in their best attires do desire for a glance from the opposites and most of the heart throbbing effects and first crushes begins here. Puja Pandals were a blooming platform for many young lovers and lovestory. The onlookers like me too enjoyed these glances and lovey dovey of couples. I along with my friends were just calculating the lovey dovey couples in the Pandal when I felt two eyes piercing through my friend standing beside me. As I was checking who the boldest was, I tripped over my Maxie and landed flat on to the ground with twisted ankel and broken pointers of my heels. Nevertheless, I haven't worn any after this incident. The evening was lost in pain and me confined to home for two days. Confining to home during Puja is the most dreadful thing. But I somehow found solace in the Bollywood songs emitting out from the loudspeaker and made my day.

The last day of Puja is once again the saddest, bidding farewell to Maa, all elderly ladies and newly wedded couples and "bau maa's" would gather around and would apply Sindoor to each other and to Maa Durga wishing everlasting blissful married life and sowbhagya.

Murti of Maa Durga would be embarked from the stage on to the tempos and truck with procession and proceeding of people, clanging the thal blowing the shank and Dhak.  Women, in "Lal parer Saree" would be leading the procession throwing Sindoor and hod dena (auspicious sound). The bank of Hooghly river would be full with people bidding farewell to Maa Durga with tears of joy in their eyes, promising another year-long wait for her arrival.

"Durga Durga"

Pic courtesy: Google Images

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The stop over

Travel and travelling was the best part of our summer vacation. It used to take three days, to reach Kerela from Calcutta via Madras. We used to take a break at Chennai(Madras) for a day at my Valiacchan's place and then move on. The hectic travel of two days used to ease down after this wonderful break gaining energy, to spend yet another day, again travelling.

The train journey was considered economically best for middle-class families in the era of '70s and early '80s as travelling by flight was very very expensive and luxurious. We used to travel by ordinary train and of course by second class. There were no electric trains or diesel train then, it was simple steam locomotive,  so by the time one gets down, after a two days journey, one would be looking like a haggared  vagabound. The coal dust emitting from the engines  would cover up adequately making difficulty in recognition, unless one have a through wash/bath.  The seat and sitting was yet another matter, for it wasn't comfortable at all. The seat was made of wood, so one had to carry the bedding, along with their food packages. Every passenger would be carrying a whole lot of bag and baggages. The railway station too, would be over crowded with vendors selling all sort of things, and of course, passengers, in course of boarding and evicting the train.  The whole scenario was a hosh posh one, yet interesting, since the spirit of reaching to any distance place, fills one's heart with joy and excitement; so the hardship of travelling vanishes in minutes.

Seat and seating though not comfortable would again be a matter of fight among the siblings, "the window seat". It was the most comfortable one, for, the entire space between the adjacent seats would be blocked with luggage, moving about freely was a real exercise unless one knew monkey jumping. So, the window seat was very very precious. Not only does it keeps one away, from the pushes of the co -passengers, but also gives a view to the outside world. But the question of one having it was definitely  a real problem. For most of the time, the allotted seats would be occupied by the wrong people and requesting them to spare it, was,  like holding the bull by it's horn. Sometimes we would be very lucky to have this precious window seat and Amma would allot time to each one of us including her time of occupying. The view through the train window was wonderful,  trees, fields, huts, mountains, bridges, rivers, valleys, tunnels what not. I used to wonder why the trees, poles, etc always used to move along with the train?? it was a big question? which was cleared by the science teacher, while teaching  the law of relative motion. I always liked to watch the train turning on the bends and changing tracks.  Night was again gloomy, as one, could'not watch anything, due to the darkness outside. Only twinkling lights far aside unless another station is approached. The sound of chai walas in a peculiar tone was very interesting "chai"chai....chai lelo would wake up anyone  from a deep slumber and it was also an indication of the Stations covered and the destination left to be covered. In the midst of all this, would be the chitter chatter of the co-passengers boarding from different stop over stations, and "lol" if anyone is carrying babies, then it's a hell altogether. Crying babies, lullabies all is enough to keep one awake the whole night, adding to it would be the imminent sudden jerks of the train while putting brakes or waiting for the signals, which have a bone breaking effect if one is not holding on to anything. Thus the upper birth was a real real risky one.

Due to the busy schedules Acchan rarely accompanied us during vacations. We four, and Amma would be escorted by somebody known to Acchan, Acchan's friend or any relatives.  So it was entirely a dependable situation on somebody else, which Amma never liked.  The trains never used to have any pantry; food for the passengers was picked up from specific stations having railway canteens, and buying food from outside was costly plus unhygienic. Thus Amma made all efforts to check the basic necessities for all of us during the train journey, to avoid giving trouble to the stranger accompanying us.  Amma was very particular about her morning coffee. This coffee was her energy booster which she never missed having. After her cuppa full she would rarely want anything else, morning coffee was a must for her. So she carried flasks full of hot water, coffee powder, milk powder, sugar etc. Next would be the breakfast items. We used to carry a trunk full of eatables. Bread, boiled eggs, achar, chutney, papads, murukku, tairru sadam, puri, sweets etc. All co-passengers too would be carrying home-cooked foods and would try sharing the same with each other. Thus a whole variety of food items would be shared.Two days would thus pass by having a variety of foods, playing,singing talking and knowing the co-passengers.  We would also learn new games  from other kids. Two days full-on howling shouting and masti. Train journey though hectic was a real fun for us kids.

We would reach Madras in the early morning hours of the third day as per the train schedule. Valiacchan (Acchan's elder brother) would be waiting to receive us. It was his ordeal for all our relatives who would be touching Madras and would be moving ahead to Kerela. There were trains which would directly be going to Kerela, from different parts of the country, with an hour's break at Madras Central Station. Valiacchan was very prompt to reach the station with a bag full of food prepared by Valiamma and would hand our the food packages to his relatives who wouldn't be re-boarding the train at Madras. This visit to Station with food was his practice and definitely a relief to the one's travelling and also a blessing to have home cooked fresh food. We too we're into this ordeal when Calcutta, started plying direct trains to Kerela. We were blessed to have Valiaccha and Valiamma and their love and concern which definitely gave us a solace from the two days hectic journey.

After receiving us, on the station, Valiaccha would take us all to his house on Mount Road and we all would be welcomed by Valiamma. After a through shower we would be relishing hot idlis and dosas prepared by Valiamma and would be waiting for our cousin sister to come back from school. Valiaccha was very strict in this matter he would never allow her  to bunk school no matter what. This strictness of his groomed my cousin well and she achieved first division and first rank in all her classes and even in completing her Hindi Visharad. Madras/Chennai does not need Hindi speaking yet she completed it. She is now an officer in a reputed firm. Afternoon was wonderful, we all, along with my cousin would relish the Tamil cuisine made by Valiamma appalams, vadams, rasam, payasam what not. All would be chatting along the whole day and night too seemed too short for us. We would bade goodbye with a heavy heart promising to meet again after a long wait of another year.

This break journey/stop over, was a real booster for us all and we used to enjoy it a lot. We would get guidance and blessings from Valiacchan and he always used to gift us a pen. A pen given to me was kept very preciously by me for the tenth board exam. I wrote my exam with that pen and I though, an average student, could pass the exams fairly well. With my  Valiaccha's blessings, I completed my studies and also got a Govt. job through competitive exams.

Life too is a journey, you just move ahead leaving behind the co-travellers and stations covered, into the hard disk of your memory. The unknown destination is yet to be covered......who knows what awaits there!!

Pic courtesy: Google pics

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