This book by Preethi Nair is something I'd been meaning to read for years, and I finally got around to it. It is the story of a mother who is left to bring up her two young children by herself and struggles at her task. It is also the story of a daughter caught in the turmoil of all kinds of family drama and romance.
The mother's life resembles a Phoenix rising from the ashes, more than once. The daughter has her own struggle to deal with and her own difficult decisions. All of it is set against the backdrop of the abundant variety of flavours found in Indian food. The food and the spices are described with a kind of passion that enables the reader to almost smell and taste them.
The story is very beautifully written and the fact that it alternates between the points of view of the mother and the daughter makes it a very complete and comprehensive narrative. It shows how two different people see the same situation differently, how they deal with the same pain differently, how misunderstandings disrupt the delicate balance of human relationships. It also demonstrates the well known but sometimes ignored fact that parents are always there for their children, even when the children doubt themselves or their parents, though sometimes the child's love for the parent may not be quite as unconditional.
This is a book that has all the colors and spices of life blended in just the right way, without being too light or too heavy a read.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Big City Bustle
The week before last, I was travelling to see my mamaji's family for Thanksgiving. I took a bus from Boston to New York and another from New York to Allentown. I was in New York City for about half an hour on both days, going over there and coming back.
It's been a while since I've been into a big city like that. And at a bus terminal, no less. There are just so many people everywhere. People, buses, trains, lots of available options for public transport including the subway - we don't have any of that in the suburbs. It reminds me of Delhi. Delhi is a place where you will find people from all over the country, trying to achieve something or the other that they believe they can achieve by being in the city. New York is just so, except that it attracts people from all over the world.
My bus into New York, against all odds, seemed to be entering the city about half an hour early. I looked out of the window and kind of thought we were nearly there, but I didn't really believe it. (Thanksgiving is a time when everyone travels to see their families, so there's a lot of traffic. Plus, there's the big Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade in New York City, because of which there are a lot of street closures. I'd read that traffic is rather crazy in or near the city because of all that. But it wasn't quite as crazy as I'd thought, though the bus terminal was quite crowded.) But then I saw a billboard. McDonald's McCafe coffee, $1.99 for a small cup. That coffee is $1 for any size out here. Then I knew I was in the city, because that's the kind of price you'd find only in a place like New York.
There's just something about a city like that which draws me to it. It's the kind of place I've lived in for the first almost twenty seven years of my life. I am big fan of the wide open spaces and the green leaves that we see around here where we live, but a city like that is just something else.
It's been a while since I've been into a big city like that. And at a bus terminal, no less. There are just so many people everywhere. People, buses, trains, lots of available options for public transport including the subway - we don't have any of that in the suburbs. It reminds me of Delhi. Delhi is a place where you will find people from all over the country, trying to achieve something or the other that they believe they can achieve by being in the city. New York is just so, except that it attracts people from all over the world.
My bus into New York, against all odds, seemed to be entering the city about half an hour early. I looked out of the window and kind of thought we were nearly there, but I didn't really believe it. (Thanksgiving is a time when everyone travels to see their families, so there's a lot of traffic. Plus, there's the big Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade in New York City, because of which there are a lot of street closures. I'd read that traffic is rather crazy in or near the city because of all that. But it wasn't quite as crazy as I'd thought, though the bus terminal was quite crowded.) But then I saw a billboard. McDonald's McCafe coffee, $1.99 for a small cup. That coffee is $1 for any size out here. Then I knew I was in the city, because that's the kind of price you'd find only in a place like New York.
There's just something about a city like that which draws me to it. It's the kind of place I've lived in for the first almost twenty seven years of my life. I am big fan of the wide open spaces and the green leaves that we see around here where we live, but a city like that is just something else.
In The Kitchen
You know how some people say that they find cooking relaxing? That it's their hobby? I used to find remarks like that rather weird, and I saw it as more of a chore that my mother did because she had to do it, and skipped every so often when she was too tired.
That was before I actually tried to cook on my own.
There are certainly days when I am tired after work and maybe feeling a little sick and wish that my husband would come home before I did and make me a nice bowl of soup. But when I am well, and only mentally tired from work, I love to experiment in the kitchen. Try things that I haven't tried before. Change some ingredients around in a recipe. Of course, once every week or so, I do make something standard like a simple yellow dal (which I don't really like all that much but my husband can't go without it for too long) or aloo gobi (actually it's aloo broccoli for us, more often than not), but the rest of the time, I make something at least a little differently. Add a little lemon juice to my pasta. Chop some cubanelle peppers into my rajma. Bake my own bread. (I haven't done a regular bread, but I have tried my hand at pumpkin bread from a mix and cranberry orange bread from scratch. Both turned out pretty good.) It's fun. It's satisfying. It gives me a feeling of having created something on my own. And that is a feeling to be savored.
That was before I actually tried to cook on my own.
There are certainly days when I am tired after work and maybe feeling a little sick and wish that my husband would come home before I did and make me a nice bowl of soup. But when I am well, and only mentally tired from work, I love to experiment in the kitchen. Try things that I haven't tried before. Change some ingredients around in a recipe. Of course, once every week or so, I do make something standard like a simple yellow dal (which I don't really like all that much but my husband can't go without it for too long) or aloo gobi (actually it's aloo broccoli for us, more often than not), but the rest of the time, I make something at least a little differently. Add a little lemon juice to my pasta. Chop some cubanelle peppers into my rajma. Bake my own bread. (I haven't done a regular bread, but I have tried my hand at pumpkin bread from a mix and cranberry orange bread from scratch. Both turned out pretty good.) It's fun. It's satisfying. It gives me a feeling of having created something on my own. And that is a feeling to be savored.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Tangled
Tangled from Disney is a comic yet heartwarming take on the classic story of Rapunzel. It sees the princess trapped in a tower, not even knowing that she is a princess. She's never stepped out into the sunshine and she is led to believe that her captor is her mother. The king and queen, meanwhile, yearning for their lost daughter, release hundreds of floating lanterns into the sky each year on the princess's birthday.
The princess's way out of the tower turns out to be a bandit the royal guards are chasing, who is actually about as charming as a prince would have been. She discovers with him a whole new world with birds, butterflies, dangerous adventures, and, of course, love (It's a fairytale, what did you expect?).
The funniest part is that after the princess hits the bandit on the head with a frying pan (in self defence), the bandit also discovers the utility of a frying pan as a weapon. You have to see it for it to be funny. But it's an extremely cute and funny movie that touches the hearts of audiences of all ages. Definitely worth a watch.
The princess's way out of the tower turns out to be a bandit the royal guards are chasing, who is actually about as charming as a prince would have been. She discovers with him a whole new world with birds, butterflies, dangerous adventures, and, of course, love (It's a fairytale, what did you expect?).
The funniest part is that after the princess hits the bandit on the head with a frying pan (in self defence), the bandit also discovers the utility of a frying pan as a weapon. You have to see it for it to be funny. But it's an extremely cute and funny movie that touches the hearts of audiences of all ages. Definitely worth a watch.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Losing It
The byline of this book by Valerie Bertinelli says "And Gaining My Life Back, One Pound At a Time". Kind of leads a reader into believing that it is about how the author lost weight. Well, it is about that. But not entirely. It is a memoir of the television actress's life from the time she began to appear on television. It sees her through a rather early and not very well thought out marriage, motherhood, divorce, ups and downs in her career, and so much more.
Of late, I've found memoirs more interesting than fiction. There's just that much more depth to these books. I love reading authors who are really candid and truthful about the best and worst things that happened to them.
One of the best things about the book is that, even though she does things I would probably never do, I can still relate to her. Because everything that is going through her head is expressed so freely and articulately, I can completely (well, almost) understand why she does what she does.
When I see her on TV (I've only seen her on Hot in Cleveland), it's not very easy to imagine that she's the same person who's been through everything that she has written about in the book. But then, that's what good acting is all about, right?
It's a well written memoir that is heartfelt, though it may not necessarily be very touching. But it's an interesting read, because it is a window into the life of another person who is very different and yet, very similar to me.
Of late, I've found memoirs more interesting than fiction. There's just that much more depth to these books. I love reading authors who are really candid and truthful about the best and worst things that happened to them.
One of the best things about the book is that, even though she does things I would probably never do, I can still relate to her. Because everything that is going through her head is expressed so freely and articulately, I can completely (well, almost) understand why she does what she does.
When I see her on TV (I've only seen her on Hot in Cleveland), it's not very easy to imagine that she's the same person who's been through everything that she has written about in the book. But then, that's what good acting is all about, right?
It's a well written memoir that is heartfelt, though it may not necessarily be very touching. But it's an interesting read, because it is a window into the life of another person who is very different and yet, very similar to me.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Thoughts For Today
Happy Diwali, people. Belated for those of you in India. Here it's still the fifth of November.
I know I've been away for too long when I start typing blo... and Internet Explorer no longer shows blogger.com in drop-down list. I don't think that's ever happened before.
Life's been keeping me busy. I come home from work and it's time to get down to other kinds of work. Which is, on most days, either cooking or exercise or both.
So anyway, I was reading this article on CNN news today about how modern brides are coming around to wearing colors other than white on their wedding days. Ivory is quite popular, but the article featured someone who wore lime green and blue.
This particular woman said that a wedding day, being as significant as it is, is a day to look your best and hence you should wear the colors that best complement your skin tone. I was thinking back to the time I was in the CTC Plaza picking my wedding lehenga. I picked the pink that I totally love. Pink with silver sequins and trims. Everyone who knows me knows I love that pink. I picked it because my mom and I both thought it complemented my skin tone beautifully. She and I don't agree on anything all that easily.
What that led me to think was, isn't it slightly strange that in India, where people are so much more reluctant to let go of traditional beliefs and rituals, especially when it comes to important occasions like weddings, we have been so much more flexible about which colors a bride can wear for her wedding in recent times? In my mother's day, it was usually restricted to red or pink. With gold trims. But these days we have all kinds of colors, ranging from the traditional reds and pinks to the less traditional baby pink, green, orange, purple, gold, silver-grey, and various combinations of these. I haven't seen anyone wear blue, but I'm sure people wear that too. Just a random thought that came to my mind.
I know I've been away for too long when I start typing blo... and Internet Explorer no longer shows blogger.com in drop-down list. I don't think that's ever happened before.
Life's been keeping me busy. I come home from work and it's time to get down to other kinds of work. Which is, on most days, either cooking or exercise or both.
So anyway, I was reading this article on CNN news today about how modern brides are coming around to wearing colors other than white on their wedding days. Ivory is quite popular, but the article featured someone who wore lime green and blue.
This particular woman said that a wedding day, being as significant as it is, is a day to look your best and hence you should wear the colors that best complement your skin tone. I was thinking back to the time I was in the CTC Plaza picking my wedding lehenga. I picked the pink that I totally love. Pink with silver sequins and trims. Everyone who knows me knows I love that pink. I picked it because my mom and I both thought it complemented my skin tone beautifully. She and I don't agree on anything all that easily.
What that led me to think was, isn't it slightly strange that in India, where people are so much more reluctant to let go of traditional beliefs and rituals, especially when it comes to important occasions like weddings, we have been so much more flexible about which colors a bride can wear for her wedding in recent times? In my mother's day, it was usually restricted to red or pink. With gold trims. But these days we have all kinds of colors, ranging from the traditional reds and pinks to the less traditional baby pink, green, orange, purple, gold, silver-grey, and various combinations of these. I haven't seen anyone wear blue, but I'm sure people wear that too. Just a random thought that came to my mind.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
In Memory
My paternal grandfather was the one grandparent of all four whom I was the most attached to. I did spend a lot of time with my other grandfather too, until he passed away back in 1991, but somehow never developed the kind of attachment, the kind of fondness, the same sort of relationship.
My grandfather took my brother and me out to the neighbourhood park in the evenings. Sometimes it was my grandmother who did that, sometimes it was both of them. He went with us to the PTA meetings at school when my dad could not take time off from work. My mom could hardly ever make it to those meetings because she was a schoolteacher herself and often had a PTA meeting at her own school on the same days.
My grandfather would often secretly give us extra pocket money without telling my grandmother. He would play with us inside and outside the house to the extent that he could. He was a talented athlete in his day, but weighed down by arthritis in all the years that I knew him. He would sit in the veranda of the house, sipping his tea, reading his paper, and talking to us in the mornings before school.
In recent years, he had been in and out of hospital for serious health issues often enough for us to be kind of mentally prepared for the impending eventuality. But you never know how well prepared you are until it actually happens. It hasn't really sunk in for me, even though it has been four days now. Because I'm so far away from my family. I haven't seen what the house is like without him. I haven't attended a family gathering when he was not there. I haven't really had a chance to say goodbye.
My grandfather took my brother and me out to the neighbourhood park in the evenings. Sometimes it was my grandmother who did that, sometimes it was both of them. He went with us to the PTA meetings at school when my dad could not take time off from work. My mom could hardly ever make it to those meetings because she was a schoolteacher herself and often had a PTA meeting at her own school on the same days.
My grandfather would often secretly give us extra pocket money without telling my grandmother. He would play with us inside and outside the house to the extent that he could. He was a talented athlete in his day, but weighed down by arthritis in all the years that I knew him. He would sit in the veranda of the house, sipping his tea, reading his paper, and talking to us in the mornings before school.
In recent years, he had been in and out of hospital for serious health issues often enough for us to be kind of mentally prepared for the impending eventuality. But you never know how well prepared you are until it actually happens. It hasn't really sunk in for me, even though it has been four days now. Because I'm so far away from my family. I haven't seen what the house is like without him. I haven't attended a family gathering when he was not there. I haven't really had a chance to say goodbye.
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