tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33475256416130144602024-03-06T02:25:43.424+05:30Piscean angelBorn n brought-up in Calcutta, the City of Joy, I have lived & worked in Gujarat & Maharashtra for 5 years of my life before I shifted to Bangalore. These places & the people I met here have taught me a lot of things which has enriched me & made me a more confident person. On the outside a no-nonsense person but at the core a dreamer like most Pisceans ... hence the Piscean Angel. :-)Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-80725706997395732012019-05-25T19:33:00.000+05:302019-05-25T19:33:01.075+05:30A traditional Bengali wedding menu<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This post is inspired by someone in one of my foodie groups who said that she did not know much about Bengali traditional food. I was trying to find out a pic or some reference to a traditional Bengali wedding menu on the internet but found only the modern ones with biriyani and what not, masquerading as traditional menu. </div>
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So I sieved through my childhood memories and remembered the family weddings which I used to attend in the 80s and <span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;" wfd-id="2640">this is what I remembered...</span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;" wfd-id="2640"><br />Breakfast: Luchi (Puris made purely with refined flour), shada alu'r torkari (Potato sabji with no or very little turmeric) and bode (sweet boondi)</span></div>
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Lunch: moong dal with cauliflower and peas, jhiri jhiri alu bhaja (very finely sliced potatoes fried crisp), one or two types of fish curry usually a pabda maachher jhal and/or alu-fulkopi diye koi maach er jhol (only if the wedding is in winter as koi maachh is best at that time), patla aam er tok (a sweet and watery chutney with raw mangoes, if in summer) or tomato chatni (in other seasons) , papad (fried in oil), mishti doi and rasogolla</div>
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Dinner: Usually served on a banana leaf. The leaf would be laid out on the table with a lump of salt and a 1/8th slice of a lemon. Then started the feast of - luchi or radhabollobhi (the latter is filled with a filling of mixed dals), alu's dam or chhola'r dal (a thick channa dal), maach er matha diye moong dal (moong dal cooked with fish head), long and thin slice of begun bhaja (brinjal fry).<br />As kids we would say to each other - bhushi maal diye pet bhorash na meaning don't stuff yourself with rubbish, cos the main items were yet to come <span class="_47e3 _5mfr" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 0; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle;" title="grin emoticon"><img alt="" class="img" height="16" role="presentation" src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/faa/1.5/16/1f603.png" style="border: 0px; vertical-align: -3px;" width="16" /><span aria-hidden="true" class="_7oe" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0px; width: 0px;">:D</span></span><br />Now the actual feast : rui maach er kalia (rohu cooked in a thick onion gravy) or if the family was rich enough then golda chingri'r jhal (king prawns cooked in a thick onion gravy) followed by kosha mangsho (mutton gravy usually cooked using mustard oil)<br />The sweet ending: Aam er chatni (thick and sweet mango chutney) or tomato chutney with raisins and dates, papad (fried in oil, of course), mishti doi or ice cream, sandesh, rosogolla.<br />Mouth freshener: Mishti paan</div>
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<br />Both lunch and dinner was served with good quality, steaming hot white rice.</div>
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<br />Of course, even after all this many guests who would eat their fill would discuss how the taste or quality of food did not meet their expectations while belching satisfactorily, on their way home. <span class="_47e3 _5mfr" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 0; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle;" title="smile emoticon"><img alt="" class="img" height="16" role="presentation" src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/fa5/1.5/16/1f642.png" style="border: 0px; vertical-align: -3px;" width="16" /><span aria-hidden="true" class="_7oe" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0px; width: 0px;">:)</span></span><br />There used to be times when some guests would have two wedding invitations on the same evening and belive it or not, they would eat at both places.<br />If you are a vegetarian, the non-veg dal would be replaced by a normal moong dal and the fish and mutton dishes would usually be replaced with cauliflower and paneer dishes.<br /><span class="_47e3 _5mfr" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 0; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle;" title="tongue emoticon"><span aria-hidden="true" class="_7oe" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0px; width: 0px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="_47e3 _5mfr" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 0; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle;" title="tongue emoticon"><span aria-hidden="true" class="_7oe" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0px; width: 0px;">:P</span></span><br /><b>Note:</b> All pics are from the internet.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hpSVeCSXRa_S4tbXq0iWs9A-fS8nvwsC8u_BJmEZigJfMA-7Bpcjb_6hjTNc6jhiFu096HWZkHdmL31lrhR8yN97PLIHqHT74zCePRNjmELZfRUYH5DDN4cRoPjYuJMmmKAyeUHeztM/s1600/Golda-Chingri-Kalia-Panchforon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hpSVeCSXRa_S4tbXq0iWs9A-fS8nvwsC8u_BJmEZigJfMA-7Bpcjb_6hjTNc6jhiFu096HWZkHdmL31lrhR8yN97PLIHqHT74zCePRNjmELZfRUYH5DDN4cRoPjYuJMmmKAyeUHeztM/s320/Golda-Chingri-Kalia-Panchforon.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chingri maachh er jhal</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUTsKYj5QOi_0mpJ10hlVVs0Pe9IW5VEwCLNPMWx4K64C1QRKarVBAaeOJKH90qhNSdDJGjDntmyqvOaESaytF_8o2REvILr06gfrftR9weewK8UDb29wpHIjF81Xb8b_oyvq_qs3kuWw/s1600/koi+jhol.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUTsKYj5QOi_0mpJ10hlVVs0Pe9IW5VEwCLNPMWx4K64C1QRKarVBAaeOJKH90qhNSdDJGjDntmyqvOaESaytF_8o2REvILr06gfrftR9weewK8UDb29wpHIjF81Xb8b_oyvq_qs3kuWw/s320/koi+jhol.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alu fulkopi diye koi maachh</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8chny6x4p_TD9yiBZBdSbESYiXOmoLP8_xn4as5tTTal5uZsimZ8GiKY8WBnfNdoHNMdxeImgbbTRjz7ffYdnJR3GDFBfT1uihTy2Lekcz0lV563uJlnEMSuNgGPkkx0-nspmytBIb1o/s1600/mutton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="386" data-original-width="386" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8chny6x4p_TD9yiBZBdSbESYiXOmoLP8_xn4as5tTTal5uZsimZ8GiKY8WBnfNdoHNMdxeImgbbTRjz7ffYdnJR3GDFBfT1uihTy2Lekcz0lV563uJlnEMSuNgGPkkx0-nspmytBIb1o/s320/mutton.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kosha mangsho</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvC8q754C6fnl_05QHxM5TOuBeuOpRWj7QQvnMaRCeU0p5BYxcG_2PuwdwsXBYu5XksdCmI_feGNX8ysqlwzWxVKz8Gah_iFVUNclX1zEi6eUJuEFodHosThDV_ssOx-18QWCzaBTOk3E/s1600/pabda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvC8q754C6fnl_05QHxM5TOuBeuOpRWj7QQvnMaRCeU0p5BYxcG_2PuwdwsXBYu5XksdCmI_feGNX8ysqlwzWxVKz8Gah_iFVUNclX1zEi6eUJuEFodHosThDV_ssOx-18QWCzaBTOk3E/s320/pabda.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pabda maachh er jhal</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaCUSYOAYrEtCNEpegTv9UT9HR7IoL5pCsq40i_OxS7TPviRiKsgDnIQAO3qVvcnQmzEy57rUEa-Kr6OxZj5ySPrHdffv5iKVFAT4ObeHPHi0zaN76kF8W54SfWFXmJghsOGhRQmopKp0/s1600/rui+kalia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaCUSYOAYrEtCNEpegTv9UT9HR7IoL5pCsq40i_OxS7TPviRiKsgDnIQAO3qVvcnQmzEy57rUEa-Kr6OxZj5ySPrHdffv5iKVFAT4ObeHPHi0zaN76kF8W54SfWFXmJghsOGhRQmopKp0/s320/rui+kalia.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rui maachh er kalia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
</div>
Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-41670395962851736322016-07-28T11:19:00.000+05:302016-07-28T11:19:26.826+05:30I am scared of sympathizers <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Yes, I am !!! I’d rather have fair-weather friends than
friends who sympathize only because you are in a deeper rut than them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
We i.e. my brother and I lost our father when we were 12 and
5 years old respectively. My mother, a homemaker and a woman who was loved and
protected by her family and later, her husband, was ill-equipped to handle the
situation that had suddenly befallen her. Other than the really close family,
some of whom lent us 100% support and some of who completely disappeared, some
who appeared to sympathize with us were the sympathizers whom I have come to
fear. Many of these were people who had been variously helped by my father to
rise in their careers or otherwise and this was their chance to show that they were there for
us. We took them at face value only to realize that they would sympathize only
if we listened to them at every step of the way and if we were always at a
lower social rung than them. And by help here I am not, never, not for once
talking about financial help. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Sadly for them, my brother and I were good students and
since my father’s company paid for our education, we studied what we wanted to
and fared reasonably well. Then came the time of getting jobs. We were living
in West Bengal where jobs were difficult to get and my engineering college didn’t
have many campus opportunities. So, I was struggling to land my first job and
out came the helping hand of one Mr. B who had been helped to further his
career by my father. We readily accepted his helping hand for we believed that
he had our best interests in mind. He took me to meet a gentleman who owned a
company in Delhi and was ready to pay me a paltry sum to join his company
there. Given that I had to manage my food and accommodation in a strange city
in that money, I decided to refuse his offer after discussing it with my mother. I also truly believed that I was capable of landing a better job. When we
told Mr. B that I wouldn’t be joining there, instead of understanding the
reason behind my refusal, he barked at my mother, “What does she expect? She’s
not going to get a better offer than this!!!” Thankfully I could prove him
wrong soon enough by acquiring a job which paid me more than double of what Mr.
B’s acquaintance had offered me, along with accommodation in a foreign city. We
haven’t heard much from Mr. B since then though he was invited to my wedding
which happened some years later.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Then there’s the case of Mrs. A. Maybe she thought that we
would always be her poor cousins. When my brother and later, I started doing
reasonably well in our professional lives, she started behaving more and more
rudely with us, especially my mother who, despite all that she had seen in
life, still remained a simpleton at heart. Finally we decided that it was
better for us to ignore her and stay away from her negative energy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
My mother, a young widow, has been variously propositioned
by some sympathizers. Many of our fair-weather friends came back once we
started to fare better. However, we were lucky to have some empathizers in our
lives, who always stayed by our sides in our times of difficulty and in happy
times. They rejoiced with us when we did well and still do. I am thankful for
the empathizers in my life and wish them the best, always, just as they do us.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-60650137561102778772015-09-04T15:43:00.000+05:302015-09-04T15:43:33.017+05:30The "fallen" woman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The Indrani Mukherjea saga has once
again brought to the fore our obsession with the "fallen" woman. And, as usual,
more women than men are crying foul and discussing in gory detail how bad a
mother she was or what a social climber she has been and how she deserves
exactly what she got. Well, maybe all this is true in her case or maybe not.
Haven’t we all heard the adage “innocent till proven guilty”? We are ready to
believe that she has committed this crime even though there were no eye
witnesses to this act other than those also equally guilty but there are many
who still don’t believe that Salman Khan ran over innocent poor people sleeping
on the footpath while in a drunken state, though eye witnesses confirm the
fact. See what I mean?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Yes, we are sometimes too ready to
tag a woman as “fallen” and find excuses for the men.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Even though divorce is a common
thing today, even in India, a successful divorcee woman is regarded rather
warily by many other “happily married women” in the society. They fear that
these women might lure their own husbands into some kind of a honey trap.
Please !!! Give it a rest women …your husbands - paunchy, balding, miserly et
al - are attractive only to yourselves. Nobody, especially not these
successful, gone-through-the-wringer women, is interested in your husbands. And
the same goes for those smart, successful women who choose to remain single.
They are not interested in your husbands. Now, whether your husbands are interested
in these women is something you have to ask yourself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Woe be to those divorced (or widowed) women who found love
and are either, married a second time or living in with their partner. People
around start commenting about how soon they could move on when the ex-husband
couldn’t, though these same people wouldn’t bother to comment if the ex-husband
went around with a thousand girls & the woman remained single and maybe,
miserable. If the woman has children then there will be those who’ll comment on
what a bad mother this woman is and how unsettling it’s for the kids when the
mother remarries or lives-in with another man. Never mind that the kids are
well-behaved, well-balanced & happy!!! And startlingly, these comments come
not from enemies but from some of the closest friends, also women.</div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Why are we still like this? Why haven’t education and a
broader world-view been able to change this woman-hate-woman attitude? I don’t
know. But it angers me every time I see it. It makes me cringe and I am neither
divorced, widowed nor single. </div>
</div>
Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-60668665570946543922015-03-13T11:53:00.000+05:302015-03-13T11:53:08.306+05:30Are India's daughters really safe ? <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Yesterday there was an <a href="http://www.ndtv.com/bangalore-news/bengaluru-cop-filmed-beating-kicking-daughter-shamed-on-facebook-746109" target="_blank">incident</a> in Bengaluru where a police
officer from Madurai beat up his adult daughter brutally in broad daylight for
allegedly having an affair with a person who the parents didn’t deem fit for
the daughter. Bystanders, among who was the girl’s mother, a school teacher
herself, looked on. The girl was finally saved by two women who were passing by
and the incident reported to the police. Today the papers reported that the
police let the father go because the girl did not file a complaint against her
father. The fact that there were so many witnesses to the incident doesn’t
matter, I guess. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
A few days ago, a woman in one of the groups on a popular
social networking site mentioned that whenever she comes to India (she lives in
the US), she is pitied on by all her relatives & neighbours because she has
two daughters. Recently one of her mom’s friends, a school Principal, told her
that since she had her child in the US & there you get to know the sex of
the foetus in advance, she should’ve aborted the second child when she came to
know that it was a girl. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
These are just two incidents that show that India’s
daughters are indeed not safe !!!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It is not just the poverty stricken, uneducated, angry youth
whom she should be scared of. She should be very scared of her own parents and
neighbours too, both men and women, who see her as nothing but a liability. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
All the furore on the documentary by Leslee Udwin titled
India’s daughter got me thinking. All those who condemned the documentary were
saying things like, “why name it as India’s daughter ? Rape is not a problem
unique to India. It is a global phenomenon” or “this documentary is a ploy to
shame India” or “not all men in India are like these men who were accused of
the rape”. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I agree, rape is not a phenomenon unique to India, it
happens all over the World. But in which other civilized society have we heard
politicians and general public find fault with the victim because of the way
she dressed or because she was alone at a nightclub? One may not approve of a
way a woman/girl has dressed or the way she behaves but that DOES NOT give
anyone the right to physically violate her. Rape is RAPE. PERIOD.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I got online to see if it (blaming the victim) happens in
the Western world too. Yes, it sometimes does especially by the lawyers who are
defending the accused. But I also found that in the US and Canada there are “rape
shield laws” that prohibit cross-examination of the accuser (alleged victim)
with respect to certain issues, such as his or her prior sexual history, or the
manner in which he or she was dressed at the time of the rape. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It is also true that all men in India are not brutal pigs
but as the incident with which I begin here is anything to go by, many men are.
I’m sure some will say, but there are such men in the Western world too. I
agree, there must be but would he be spared by the authorities after beating up
his daughter in public? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It is so unfortunate that instead of self-introspection, we
turn to pointing fingers. Even when my 5 year old tells me, after doing
something naughty, “s/he told me to do, so I did it” or “s/he did it too”…I
tell him, that’s not an acceptable excuse for his bad behavior. So why does a country
get away with saying, “they do too”?</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It is with anguish that I say that more, a lot more needs to
be done by Indians, by the people in power to make India a safer place for her
daughters.</div>
</div>
Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-28719900526619404632015-03-08T12:55:00.004+05:302015-03-08T12:55:37.028+05:30Rangoli - Metro Art Centre<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
For a long time I’ve been planning to visit what has been
referred to by many people I know as the M G Road Boulevard. This is what the BMRCL
(Bangalore Metro Rail Corporation Ltd) gifted to the city dwellers once the
construction of this phase of the Metro got over. And I was pleasantly
surprised by what I saw here. Over a stretch of at least a km., starting from
the Metro station at M G Road till the junction where this road meets the St.
Marks Road, has been converted into a perfect hangout at the heart of the city.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgejXgtxMSNdH3Kvyavb5JwhnejJptKkZaTv6SFmHTYbWbAWMYzRHtQhZbS83vB-_2bP21CRnc-cDkC0mBIhLHvib7ZW1ZTl95thQSVKNXhG8wEuLu42E3pvYGnySmRAoLkKtnegX2-Ius/s1600/DSCN3246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgejXgtxMSNdH3Kvyavb5JwhnejJptKkZaTv6SFmHTYbWbAWMYzRHtQhZbS83vB-_2bP21CRnc-cDkC0mBIhLHvib7ZW1ZTl95thQSVKNXhG8wEuLu42E3pvYGnySmRAoLkKtnegX2-Ius/s1600/DSCN3246.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaLW4BgYGxNO0Mx-PhzIBdTpm7TK2ZXqcA_YNWSwWXDcdTCZTmyhL32c9AAZwfnCMZ3ylJ_ocjsodRn0hWgn0aUsoJswLQK3h8jeNxD6EkXghIgKegbelGfcTlMuSXaK_zubNBa7rTerQ/s1600/DSCN3254.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaLW4BgYGxNO0Mx-PhzIBdTpm7TK2ZXqcA_YNWSwWXDcdTCZTmyhL32c9AAZwfnCMZ3ylJ_ocjsodRn0hWgn0aUsoJswLQK3h8jeNxD6EkXghIgKegbelGfcTlMuSXaK_zubNBa7rTerQ/s1600/DSCN3254.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Oc2oKhnwcZTn9fbeHB-BeSiUw3O0Ru_kL59ZI27xSb5YMTTts8r_ssUCiMFZIBiSndk1iB2VQHN4UMXxgXYemLFIAKcrB_yMqojBp_8f3BDUmmQxUVQok1vk2BJxS-J8oSR_n9dCjwE/s1600/DSCN3260.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Oc2oKhnwcZTn9fbeHB-BeSiUw3O0Ru_kL59ZI27xSb5YMTTts8r_ssUCiMFZIBiSndk1iB2VQHN4UMXxgXYemLFIAKcrB_yMqojBp_8f3BDUmmQxUVQok1vk2BJxS-J8oSR_n9dCjwE/s1600/DSCN3260.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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There are a few art galleries in this bougainvillea covered promenade which
they have named Rangoli – Metro Art Centre (R-MAC). The artistic installations and
art work here leaves you spellbound. There is a picture gallery too and a wall
that outlines the history of Bangalore over the last few decades. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivHLxI4QagZWrTbqh9b2ECyXjshkqEsmor6ALrnXeoR5q9oZF5vtLRctCQzW2kgCNASoGBnGZ0Gmiz0-NbldMKmXwIzQo39i4TOuerEx6pjkLYMZf9aDVHZcI7ma09bYr8Ss9Ol0_isuQ/s1600/DSCN3261.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivHLxI4QagZWrTbqh9b2ECyXjshkqEsmor6ALrnXeoR5q9oZF5vtLRctCQzW2kgCNASoGBnGZ0Gmiz0-NbldMKmXwIzQo39i4TOuerEx6pjkLYMZf9aDVHZcI7ma09bYr8Ss9Ol0_isuQ/s1600/DSCN3261.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZzQ1qIeyJL5OenjFKJt04sVSZehqGUIFIKeJ57O_2YersiYiMLBWvZrfyrqarcJYuaTSQF2QjsruosTNzKD-F-DXNGkE-bRn9K-qpqiVNl8KTnQGb2GNNgMlXWUsVI6VAgCy3x3kL7tU/s1600/DSCN3268.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZzQ1qIeyJL5OenjFKJt04sVSZehqGUIFIKeJ57O_2YersiYiMLBWvZrfyrqarcJYuaTSQF2QjsruosTNzKD-F-DXNGkE-bRn9K-qpqiVNl8KTnQGb2GNNgMlXWUsVI6VAgCy3x3kL7tU/s1600/DSCN3268.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZgZ7o9hVC1S6rvVj4qMPaR1GJYEozyVBdPzoVju08-Sf5vZzENRWvY6SozaDL_Bfo3ffrphFywM8hqmH3mEtMxEC8bFQxC2X1_MYxz6aHKsOKwbPrvILWFFbjg9UBzMv0sasxgFBrO94/s1600/DSCN3269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZgZ7o9hVC1S6rvVj4qMPaR1GJYEozyVBdPzoVju08-Sf5vZzENRWvY6SozaDL_Bfo3ffrphFywM8hqmH3mEtMxEC8bFQxC2X1_MYxz6aHKsOKwbPrvILWFFbjg9UBzMv0sasxgFBrO94/s1600/DSCN3269.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikG-Vo_a-A27Rwf5XBZ8sDcr_RutVjgRKvu7T5Hv0Q72NufxafujkS6JsLdBfmD5lBFJrpGqW-NRlp2P6nAQ0TDObxR13pUCfz1onJXjvIXyYHC1K3QsBpnts6ZLuv7Ox-Cg2Osy-04Uc/s1600/DSCN3253.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikG-Vo_a-A27Rwf5XBZ8sDcr_RutVjgRKvu7T5Hv0Q72NufxafujkS6JsLdBfmD5lBFJrpGqW-NRlp2P6nAQ0TDObxR13pUCfz1onJXjvIXyYHC1K3QsBpnts6ZLuv7Ox-Cg2Osy-04Uc/s1600/DSCN3253.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0-6Sy0xBmJ5m8Rda7ped72hG3CYUoVelvZNHxj82Rv_N4l6oQlAQldcHp8xuXdHLd8Bt6fI4w_Wdx_TZZXNobgOlwWkI2VJ7utvZV2Jmn46B5YtX1q-I41sra0oMAfxbhin582nIjaIg/s1600/DSCN3259.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0-6Sy0xBmJ5m8Rda7ped72hG3CYUoVelvZNHxj82Rv_N4l6oQlAQldcHp8xuXdHLd8Bt6fI4w_Wdx_TZZXNobgOlwWkI2VJ7utvZV2Jmn46B5YtX1q-I41sra0oMAfxbhin582nIjaIg/s1600/DSCN3259.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieQboTcmPQb50IRRN70Jlkfz2XslaXtNVjuc_1sjfSwe36fGOQ9hN2-GOzz0l2OgK4N_MCHSO1ZEJyuL5DDgScT8PK3FTvJvO_VQAYazzMdU_KBx7F3juktdT-1QP0zZOb60dUe_QuC1g/s1600/DSCN3264.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieQboTcmPQb50IRRN70Jlkfz2XslaXtNVjuc_1sjfSwe36fGOQ9hN2-GOzz0l2OgK4N_MCHSO1ZEJyuL5DDgScT8PK3FTvJvO_VQAYazzMdU_KBx7F3juktdT-1QP0zZOb60dUe_QuC1g/s1600/DSCN3264.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZYpQcU51TS-XiNMSCGCqB_Vkm5ovJ0ahjaykFOPfReO0_7Pz7JAVnzolyUGdskI-kjaXITdTuiVD5NIyqzt6eg_5LPWeibF3XorrV1tJc2WCYrv4ZzkUE2Y1cgX959UeffAzwchntQQ/s1600/DSCN3252.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZYpQcU51TS-XiNMSCGCqB_Vkm5ovJ0ahjaykFOPfReO0_7Pz7JAVnzolyUGdskI-kjaXITdTuiVD5NIyqzt6eg_5LPWeibF3XorrV1tJc2WCYrv4ZzkUE2Y1cgX959UeffAzwchntQQ/s1600/DSCN3252.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The
Friendship Point is a wall on which you can tie a friendship band every time
you visit Bangalore. It is certainly a great way to harbor unity and
brotherhood in a time when it is much needed. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5cAwLWWoIhLWe16zI64v6ZHRZYRhRpFclHlYqV_yq8Dpixo8Pg8LaRowPER_4wIBGVB2JceOdI2egGDSpUCLlINzziLgcUmBbQHhKIbzscqS6R14Ti0LTc667nKK7YSSUHxIpJTK9O7c/s1600/DSCN3271.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5cAwLWWoIhLWe16zI64v6ZHRZYRhRpFclHlYqV_yq8Dpixo8Pg8LaRowPER_4wIBGVB2JceOdI2egGDSpUCLlINzziLgcUmBbQHhKIbzscqS6R14Ti0LTc667nKK7YSSUHxIpJTK9O7c/s1600/DSCN3271.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I have an active 5 year old who
loves to run about & play. Whenever we go out, I worry about whether the
place is kid friendly. R-MAC has a kids’
play area and seating areas from where the adults can keep an eye on the kids while
they chat & sip coffee or read a book. Though the equipment in the kids’
play area is not very well-maintained, I’ve seen from experience that kids just
enjoy to run around helter-skelter. So I don’t think that that’s a big
disadvantage. If you feel hungry, you can simply walk over to the Dasaprakash
restaurant, housed within, for dosas or walk down to the innumerable other
restaurants on M G Road. It is perfect for a family outing or a hangout with
friends. </div>
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Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-33253705440443614952014-06-06T10:25:00.001+05:302014-06-06T10:25:28.294+05:30Love is…<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cc0000;">Love is</span></i> when you feel a pat on your back, early in the
morning, and hear a sleepy voice saying, “Mamma, will you please turn towards me
& sleep?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cc0000;">Love is</span></i> when the li’l one says to you , “Mamma please bend
down” & then plants two kisses on your cheeks</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cc0000;">Love is</span></i> when he giggles at your silliest jokes</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cc0000;">Love is</span></i> when he says, “Mamma, you are a good girl”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cc0000;">Love is</span></i> when he admires you as you get dressed for an
evening out & says, “Wow, beautiful.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cc0000;">Love is</span></i> when he says, "I love you Mamma."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cc0000;">Love is</span></i> when he says, while on a trip, “I am enjoying myself
with you & Baba”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cc0000;">Love is</span></i> when he asks, “When is Baba coming back ?” , while
Baba is on a trip out of town.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #cc0000;">Love is</span></i> spending each day with you, watching you grow, be
naughty, be sweet … and just simply be yourself. </div>
</div>
Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-39216601486140440682014-02-14T15:09:00.000+05:302014-02-14T15:09:15.972+05:30To my sweetest Valentine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm; }</style>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
You love me and hug me all the time.
You kiss me when I'm least expecting it and demand that you be kissed
back. A demand to which I give in readily. Sometimes, when you kiss
me in public, I feel a little self-conscious but you have no such
thought in your mind. When I'm hurting, you ask me what's the matter
and how you can make it better. You are hurt when I'm upset with you. You help me with my work and I ask
you, just like I did yesterday, whether you will always love me just
like you do now. Of course, you don't know what I mean, but
nevertheless, you say “Yes, I will”. You are my ray of sunshine, the reason I laugh and, sometimes, the reason I cry.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
You are my <span style="color: magenta;">sweetest Valentine</span>, my dear
Son and will always be so no matter how old you grow.
</div>
</div>
Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-68489355298356903032013-10-24T15:03:00.000+05:302013-10-24T15:03:19.563+05:30Shubho Bijoya<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
A friend recently asked me how
we, Bengalis, celebrate Vijaya Dashami or Bijoya, as we call it. The fourth day
of Durga puja is called Dashami. That is the day that the Goddess Durga, along with
her four children returns home to Kailash. The despondence felt from bidding
adieu to the Goddess and her family soon turns into another round of feasting
as we wish each other Shubho Bijoya. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Traditionally Bijoya was
celebrated by youngsters touching the feet of elders, receiving their blessings
and eating sweets. The men folk usually also hug each other thrice in what is
known as kola-kuli. (Something that I’ve also observed Muslim men do while
wishing each other on Id) Friends usually wish each other by saying Shubho
Bijoya. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
As a child, I remember being told
that this exchange of wishes can continue till Kali puja / Diwali and no
longer. So, during this time, from the last day of Durga puja till a day prior
to Kali puja, we would visit all elders in the family. Our main attraction here
was the food & we refused to go to those places where the food didn’t meet
our expectations the year before. Needless to say, my Ma dragged us to these
places too. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span>
Relatives and friends used to visit us too. So right after the pujas, Ma used
to get busy making mutton chops (that’s cutlets, for the unaware, because we
have something else that we call cutlet), fish chops, fish fry etc. because
although traditionally sweets were the only thing served at Bijoya, the Bong
palate was dulled by only sweets and needed some savouries too. When the
pre-made savouries got over, Ma made egg roll or moghlai paratha (a paratha
stuffed with an egg + mutton keema mixture) or chicken roll. At our house, the
sweets served were usually store bought. Some of our relatives and friends also
made delicious sweets at home like the narkel naru (coconut laddoos made with jaggery),
narkel khaja (a coconut sweet made with sugar … used to be so juicy inside) and
such other sweets. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I always loved to eat and hence
was disappointed at some relatives who served me half the portions of what they
served my Ma & Dada (elder bro) because I was a child. Humph !!! So you
see, Bijoya to me & most Bongs meant a time of continued feasting after
Durga puja. A huge part of Bijoya also meant that we, especially the children,
visited every house in our para (locality), touched the elders’ feet and took
their blessings and of course, gorged on the delicacies prepared at their home.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
When I started working and moved
away from Kolkata, Bijoya meant writing letters to all elders, sending them my regards
and also writing to close friends to greet them. Slowly, as STD rates started
falling and cell phones made their way into our lives, Bijoya meant calling up
elders and conveying regards over the phone and sending SMS-es to friends. Today,
even those who stay in Kolkata don’t visit each other anymore. Greetings are
usually exchanged on the phone and we, who stay away from Kolkata, wish our
friends, not only through SMS-es but also on WhatsApp. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></div>
</div>
Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-53493577589102845982013-01-20T15:33:00.000+05:302013-01-20T15:35:13.616+05:30I am ASHAMED<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="justify">
<br />
I am, maybe, one of the few people who did not put a black dot instead of my profile picture on Facebook (the social networking site) to show that I am ashamed at the <a href="http://www.thehindu.com/news/national/gangraped-in-moving-bus-girl-fights-for-life-in-delhi-hospital/article4208833.ece">heinous crime</a> committed against Nirbhaya. I did not do it because this is not the ONLY thing that I am ashamed of and here are just a few other things that I am ashamed of that I can recall at the moment. </div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
1. I am ashamed to hear reports of cases where young girls are raped by their own fathers or brothers. </div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
2. I am even more ashamed of that mother who stands by & allows it to happen. </div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
3. I am ashamed to know that my country is <a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/India-no-place-for-foreign-women/articleshow/18094603.cms">unsafe for women foreign travelers</a>. </div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
4. I am ashamed when I hear commoners, <a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/Male-female-equality-is-against-nature-says-Sunni-scholar/articleshow/18094590.cms">politicians & religious “scholars”</a>, saying that a girl is responsible for her own rape because of the way she dresses or behaves. </div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
5. I am ashamed that we are scared of helping victims of road accidents for fear of being persecuted by the police. </div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
6. I am ashamed to see caste / community based politics being played in my country. </div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
7. I am ashamed of parents who urge their daughters to “adjust” with their husbands and in-laws despite knowing the trauma that the daughters are going through & later have to mourn her death. </div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
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8. I am ashamed of “educated” women who misuse the law against domestic violence (498a). </div>
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9. I am ashamed that when a young boy shows interest in cooking, his supposedly educated family comments, “why ? are you a girl ?” </div>
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10. I am ashamed to admit that when I was 12 or 13, I saw my cousin (same age as me) being molested in a crowded bus by a decent-looking man in his mid 20s & I couldn’t summon the courage to scream & alert others.
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Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-60662354673823524112011-09-21T00:43:00.000+05:302011-09-21T00:43:58.579+05:30Thank God it wasn’t me...<p align="justify"><br />
Last Saturday(17th Sept,2011), some crude bombs went off in Agra, and on Sunday Sikkim and parts of North Bengal were rocked by an earthquake which measured 6.8 on the Richter Scale. A little more than a week ago it was Delhi which got rocked by an earthquake and a terrorist attack and two months ago it was Mumbai's turn. When the blasts occurred in Mumbai last July, I was there with my son at my brother's house. We received calls from friends and relatives who knew that we were there to see if we were safe. Mumbai is like a hot spot for terrorist attacks these days and every time an attack happens, I call up my brother and a close friend who stays there to check if they are fine.<br />
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I have personally closely escaped two such calamities – one a natural calamity and the other man-made and escaped unhurt. <br />
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When the terrorists attacked IISc in 2005, I was a speaker at the conference, the venue of which was attacked, as well as helping out the organizers. I got saved by walking out of the auditorium just about 2 minutes ahead of the others. In fact, one lady who was injured by a shrapnel hitting just below her eye walked out with me but then stood back to talk to her guide, Prof. Puri, who was the only slain victim in that attack. Although I had met Prof. Puri only the day before, I always remember him as a kind, extremely knowledgeable and very humble person who was almost a father-figure for his students. When I heard the shots, I thought that someone was bursting crackers and felt irritated that someone could burst such loud crackers within the institute campus and didn't quite comprehend the gravity of the situation even when a colleague came and said that there was a shootout at the auditorium. That day still stays in my memory as the most memorable and yet the most unbelievable day of my life. <br />
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Four years before this, on 26th January 2001, when I was working in Jamnagar, Gujarat was struck by an intense earthquake. At that time, my friend and I were vacationing in Mt. Abu and although we did feel the tremors over there, we didn’t realize the devastation till we reached Jamnagar two days later. We spent a couple of days outside our home in tents for fear of after-shocks and then later stayed temporarily at a hostel set-up since one of the pillars of our building had cracked and had to be repaired. <br />
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After both these incidents, I got frantic calls from my close family and friends enquiring about my safety. They were relieved to know that I am safe as I feel relief every time a natural calamity or a terrorist attack strikes the city where I have some family members or friends and I get news that they are safe. The other day as I was reading Azar Nafisi’s <i>Reading Lolita in Tehran</i> where, while writing about the bombings on Tehran during the Iran-Iraq war in the 80s, she writes, <i>“This had also become a ritual, to call friends and family to make sure that they were safe, knowing that your own relief implied someone else’s death”</i>, it struck me that how true this was for us too. It also brought to my mind Arthur Ashe’s famous quote <i>“If I were to say, "God, why me?" about the bad things, then I should have said, "God, why me?" about the good things that happened in my life”</i>. I guess it takes a lot of courage and some level of spirituality to be able to do that. But I am me, selfish and petty if you may call me so, and still feel relieved at the safety of my near and dear ones though I feel saddened when innocent lives are lost, especially by senseless acts of terror.Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-86191467788984889532011-09-05T13:44:00.000+05:302011-09-05T13:44:45.899+05:30Trip to Murudeshwar<p align="justify"><br />
There was a time when S and I used to travel on every long weekend, even if it meant travelling every week of a month or at least every alternate week. But then our baby, G came along and we took a break from our travels. We did travel close to home and wherever we could get home-cooked food for G or could carry food but not otherwise. Now that he's 2+ and actually more mature and independent (:P) than his age, we have started travelling once again. <br />
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Our first major trip took us to Murudeshwar, a scenic beach in North coastal Karnataka about 400 kms from Bangalore. We travelled by train to Shimoga and took a taxi from there to take us to Murudeshwar. We left from Bangalore on the night of 12th August & returned early morning on 16th August.<br />
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G was super-thrilled about the entire journey. Firstly he didn't have to go to sleep at his usual 9 p.m. and secondly, he was actually going to sleep in the train !!! We were supposed to board the train at 11:30 p.m. but it arrived at our boarding station at the stroke of midnight ... so G's glee was unimaginable. We boarded the train and said our Hi's to S's friend & his family who were also accompanying us to Murudeshwar. It was quite difficult to put G to sleep because he had a lot of questions about his surroundings, so finally I just switched off the light & he automatically fell asleep. The next morning we reached Shimoga at 6 a.m. G was still fast asleep, so B (S's friend's wife) woke him up & he immediately sat up & much to everyone's amusement, said "G's going to play with sand but not put it in his hair or in his eyes". The background to this statement is ... I was preparing him mentally for the trip and since he likes to play with sand, I told him that we'll be going to a place where there'll be a huge body of water & lots of sand. And since he still refers to himself in the third person almost all his sentences begin with his own name. :)<br />
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So, we came out of the station at Shimoga & A (S's friend) who can speak Kannada, haggled with a taxi driver & we booked a Sumo for Rs. 8/- per km and charging for the journey to & fro to take us to Murudeshwar. So although the distance from Shimoga to Murudeshwar is about 200 kms, we had to pay for double the journey, but that's the usual norm & we couldn't argue with him about that. So we started off, stopped after about an hour for a quick breakfast & then continued on our journey to Murudeshwar, where we reached around 12 noon. <br />
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Murudeshwar is monopolized by the R.N. Shetty group and all the hotels over there belong to them. They have three properties RNS Residency, Naveen Beach Resort and RNS Guest House. RNS Residency is a five storey building about 5 minutes on foot from the beach and adjacent to the Murudeshwar temple. It offers a beautiful view of the beach as well as the temple. We stayed here and had a corner room overlooking their swimming pool, so we had a wonderful view of the open sea in the front, the beach on the right side and the Shiva statue inside the temple on the left. Naveen Beach Resort is right on the beach and has individual cottages. RNS Guest House, their first property in Murudeshwar is sandwiched between the temple and the RNS residency and is in a slightly rundown state. Anyway, it's wise to re-confirm your bookings before travelling because although we had booked two months in advance and they had confirmed a month later, when we reached there we were told that there was no booking in our name. They finally gave us two well-appointed rooms with amazing views but some unpleasantness could have been avoided if we had re-confirmed.<br />
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After checking into our rooms on 13th August, we freshened up and went for lunch at the Naveen Beach Resort which has a multi-cuisine non-veg restaurant. After lunch & a nap, we went to the beach for our first dip in the sea. G looooooves to play with water in the bathroom but the sea was a little fearsome for him. Both S and I love a dip in the sea and wanted to initiate G into it too but after a while we realized that he was feeling too scared and so G and I settled down on the beach to play in the sand with his sand tools while S and our friends went into the sea. <br />
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Next morning after breakfast we went to the temple. However, we did not go into the main temple. Instead we went up 18 floors by an elevator to the top of the Gopuram to see the view around and then came down and watched as fishermen returned with their catch from the sea. The sun was beating down hard on our heads by the time we finished taking a round of the temple premises and G was almost dozing off with sheer exhaustion, so we decided to go back to the hotel for lunch. RNS Residency has a vegetarian restaurant only, so we decided to feed G his staple khichdhi (without any chillies but quite tasty) over there and then go to a small eating place called Fish Land which turned out to be a boon for us fish lovers. <br />
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That evening we went for our 2nd dip in the sea & this time I went into the waters while S camped on the shores with G. Sadly though we were shooed away from the sea after about 10 mins because only that morning two people, incidentally from Bangalore, had drowned over there and the authorities didn't want to take any chances. So we came back to the hotel and decided to get into the swimming pool. Here, G was a little more comfortable and although he shrieked a little to begin with and didn't want to stay in the water for too long, he was comfortable to sit on the side with me and splash water with his feet. Strangely enough he didn't want me to swim either and cried his eyes out screaming for me to come out of the water when I went in for a swim. :)<br />
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On 15th August, we left from Murudeshwar after lunch and decided to visit the Jog Falls on our way to Shimoga. Since the monsoons have been quite generous to Karnataka this time, we saw the waterfall in its full glory. However, all our sightseeing took so long that by the time we reached the Shimoga station it was 9:30 p.m. and since our train was at 10:20 p.m., we decided to have our dinner at the railway canteen itself and board the train.<br />
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Overall, we had a very enjoyable trip though the beach is quite dirty and the tides are tricky & treacherous so it's better to watch out and heed the authorities while taking a dip in the sea. G had a great time and was reluctant to go back to the school/day care routine but well, that's life. All good things have an expiry and routine has to return. Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-48366057525227513832011-06-14T12:05:00.001+05:302011-06-14T12:07:06.154+05:30Monalisa<p align="justify"><br /><br />As I was driving down to the Institute this morning, I was listening to <a href="http://www.lyricsfreak.com/n/nat+king+cole/mona+lisa_20098067.html">Monalisa</a> by Nat King Cole. This is my absolute favourite from his collection.<br /><br />I used to listen to this song as a child. My Dad had a LP record which had this song and I just used to love the deep baritone of Nat King Cole's voice singing Monalisa. Fortunately, I found a CD of his songs recently which had Monalisa in it too. Another one of my faves from that LP was a song whose lyrics went "Miss Me,Kiss Me" ... unfortunately I'm not able to get that on CD & not even on YouTube. Will surely keep looking, though.Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-15331998226982990802011-05-26T12:59:00.003+05:302011-05-26T13:05:50.202+05:30My journeys by train<p align="justify"><br /><br />There has always been a romanticism surrounding train journeys in India. Who can forget the evergreen song <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mere_Sapno_Ki_Rani">“mere sapno ki rani”</a> where Sharmila Tagore is serenaded by Rajesh Khanna. Years later Sharmila's son, Saif sings another beautiful, romantic although less popular number inside a train ...”kasto mazaa hain...” in the movie Parineeta. Of course, normal people don't usually have such romantic encounters when we travel by train and here I would like to relive some of my more memorable experiences.<br /><br /><br />My very 1st train journey was when I travelled with my maternal grandfather & my brother to Rourkela where my maternal uncle was posted. I don't recall much about that journey except that I was thrilled about meeting my cousins especially my uncle's younger daughter who was closer to my age & hence partner in crime. After this 1st journey, there were many more journeys to Rourkela to follow and on one such journey we were accompanied by a boy (B) and a girl (G) who shared the same cubicle as ours. On this journey, there was four of us travelling together from our family (my mother, grandmother, bro & myself) and the other two berths of the cubicle were occupied by these two individuals, who, to begin with, were not acquainted with each other. The journey to Rourkela takes about 8 hours and soon after the train started B & G became very familiar with each other, sat on the same berth chatting & laughing and also shared their food with each other. They, in fact, went as far as coochie-cooing & cuddling each other ... can't remember if they kissed ... I think not. I was an impressionable and curious teenager at that time and these were the late 80s so such public display of affection (PDA) was completely unpardonable & frowned upon. My grandmother & mother were completely shocked by their behaviour & made some comments to that effect. I made a little note in my mind to tell my cousin & friends at school about what I had seen.<br /><br /><br /><br />After my Class X exams, my mother & I accompanied with some of my friends, their moms and a group of men who belonged to some environmental group went to Madhya Pradesh to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Achanakmar_Wildlife_Sanctuary">Achanakmar Wildlife Sanctuary</a> (it is now part of Chhatisgarh). This journey was especially interesting & exciting to me & my friends because we were travelling so far from home & in the company of men whom we hardly knew. This journey was spent in playing cards with, befriending these men and giggling among ourselves about nothing in particular.<br /><br /><br />In the mid-90s, my mother & I decided to go on a trip to Pune where one of my aunt's lived & also visit Mumbai on our way back. By this time I was in college and had developed to be an independent young woman who didn't hesitate to speak her mind. Also, although I wouldn't really call myself a feminist I had & still have a distaste for men who feel that they can dominate women because they are physically stronger. So, there were few men during this journey who thought that since my mother & I were “just two women” travelling by ourselves, they could casually use our berths for having their lunch and leaving the place dirty or climb on our berths with their footwear on & we wouldn't complain because we would be cowered down with their masculinity. Suffice to say, they were completely wrong. During this same journey, we were accompanied by a mother-son duo from South India. My mother & I were shocked to see the son (must be in his early 20s) gulp down a bottle of tamarind water first thing in the morning !!! Wouldn't he get acidity ??? !!! I'm still asking myself & anybody who cares to enlighten me, this question.<br /><br /><br />In the late 90s, I first travelled alone by train. I was travelling all the way from Kolkata, in the East to almost the Western-most tip of our country, to Jamnagar in Gujarat. This was for my first job and I had to travel by train for a total of 54 hours including a 4 hour waiting time in Ahmedabad. The train would reach Ahmedabad around 4 p.m. and then the coach that would go to Jamnagar would be severed from the rest of the train & kept in the siding area till the Okha Express came at 8 p.m. to take it to Jamnagar. This journey was both excruciating and pleasurable. As most of us know, travelling for 54 hours by Sleeper Class can be very trying. Thankfully it was winter, so heat wasn't one of the things that made me uncomfortable but the condition of the loos after 24 hours had become unthinkable !!!<br /><br /><br />However, I was really looking forward to my first job and that brought me some happiness. I was happy that in times when most of my compatriots were moving away from their core competencies to join the “software” bandwagon, I had got a job in my area with a comparable salary. I was also looking forward to the experience of working in a completely unknown environment and gaining invaluable experience, both professional and personal. On this journey, I also met this interesting young man, about my age, who kept me company and made the tedious journey quite pleasurable. He had just returned from a body-shopping stint in the US and was on his way to Baroda to meet some of his friends. We became quite friendly during the journey and also kept in touch for a few months after this but it finally fizzled away.<br /><br /><br />My next train journey happened only after about 9 months when I travelled back to my hometown for the first time since I started working. Since, I was now earning myself I upgraded slightly and started travelling by the air-conditioned coach now. I didn't realize till I boarded the train how tired the regular ordeal of travelling an hour each way to work and then working from 8 a.m. To 5 p.m. had made me. I spent most of this journey, comfortably settled on my top berth, either reading a book or sleeping. I only got myself to an upright position to drink the occasional cups of coffee or to eat. This journey was special for me since I was looking forward to meeting my mother and all other close family & friends after such a long time. Of course I had loads to tell them and was also laden with gifts for all. Fortunately, the train, which was infamous for always running late, arrived on time in Kolkata. Unfortunately though, my mom, bro & sis-in-law,who were supposed to pick me up, arrived late !!!<br /><br /><br /><br />My room-mate in Jamnagar had her hometown in Nagpur and so we later started to plan our holidays in such a way that we could travel at least half the way together. On these journeys, we would carry cheese slices, bread, biscuits, chips etc. to last us till Nagpur & then when her parents came to pick her up at Nagpur, they would pack for me delicious sevai upma, keema mutter & puris. In one of these journeys, as we were lunching on our ration of cheese & bread, the Gujarati family travelling in the same compartment with us were astonished & kept asking us why we weren't eating. Let me mention here that Gujaratis don't compromise on food even when they are travelling. So they usually travel with their theplas or puris, with some veggie accompaniment, myriads of pickles, some sweets and some farsaan (snacks). Naturally, to them bread & cheese was no lunch at all !!! So they kept offering us food and we were sometimes a little lured too. However, since we were travelling by ourselves, and were warned about miscreants who make friendly overtures & then feed you stuff laced with sedatives to rob you, we resisted. I'm sure they had good intentions but better be safe than sorry was our motto.<br /><br /><br />Since I got married, train journeys have always been fraught with tension, at least for me, since my DH loves to board the train only at the nick of time thereby giving me numerous ulcers. So, alas, all fond memories of train journeys have now ceased to exist.Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-70627716869643867292011-04-25T17:00:00.002+05:302011-04-25T17:05:34.893+05:30The dying art of writing letters ... and other not-so-nice aspects of technologyWhen I first travelled away from home ... all the way from the Eastern corner of India to the western-most part by train on which I travelled for 50 hours in not the most comfortable of conditions, I had enough fodder to write home about that filled 12 <a href="http://www.hindu.com/edu/2003/10/07/stories/2003100700130302.htm">foolscap</a> pages. I'm sure that kids today are not even aware of something called foolscap paper. They only know of paper sizes in terms of A4, A3, letter etc. Today all we receive by mail are bills and other unwanted stuff, which in e-mail parlance can be termed as “Junk mail”. <br /><br /><br />There was a time when, in our family & in most other Bengali families too, it was customary to write letters to elders after the Durga puja and the Bengali New Year. This is a time when we are actually supposed to meet our elders, touch their feet & take their blessings. As the families became more geographically dispersed, meeting physically became quite impossible and we started writing letters to pay our respects to our elders. Gradually, as telephones became more popular and STD/ISD rates started falling, we started paying our respects over the phone instead of writing letters. It is true that the telephone does score over a letter since here you can carry out a conversation instead of writing a one-sided account of your life and then wait for two weeks or more, depending on the whims of the postal service, to hear the other persons account of his/her life. However, I still do sometimes miss those long letters from friends and family telling about all that is happening in their life. Let alone snail mail, even the e-mails that we receive from friends these days are mostly forwarded messages and rarely a personal letter. Sigh !!! <br /><br /><br />I wonder, do they teach letter-writing in school these days ? <br /><br /><br />There was a time when our house would fill up with birthday & Christmas / New Year cards. I still have loads n loads of those cards at home and retain them as precious memories. Today most of what I receive and also send are free e-cards. Thanks to my mother and aunt, I'm still lucky enough to receive a few real cards. Sometimes we don't even send a card, instead we wish friends on their “Wall” or send them a “Scrap”. <br /><br /><br />The other day I was talking (over the phone) to my uncle & he asked me if I could send him a picture of my son and to make me understand he added “... I mean, on paper”. :) He had to add this because I do post pictures of my son on some social networking sites and upload digital photo albums and send them across but here was a person of the older generation who wasn't really comfortable to browse through pictures on the computer. Today, all our memories are digital. We carry digital cameras where we can take 1000s of photos and can erase them at one go too, if we so desire. So, we no longer take prints. Maybe that's a way in which we save the environment ... not wasting paper & thereby saving trees and also reduce clutter around the house. However, makes me feel like we are losing out on precious memories too. Well...<br /><br /><br />The advent of numerous popular social networking sites have helped us to get connected with long lost friends and keep in touch with everyone ... whether we want to or not. Like a recent forwarded mail stated that out of the people who contact you on these networking sites about 1% are actual friends, the rest comprising of school / college / work place acquaintances whom you actually hate. <br /><br /><br />The youth of this generation are totally tech-savvy. They change their cell phones, i-pods, tablets and what-nots faster than they change their clothes. I hear that people also break-up relationships by texting these days !!! That's a total blasphemy !!! <br /><br /><br />All this and more, sometimes makes me wonder ... is technology making us too impersonal ? Is the human-ness going out of human beings ? Maybe we'll soon be replaced by robots programmed to think. Or, maybe like in style trends, the old-fashioned will once again become fashionable and we'll be back to writing letters, meeting friends face-to-face instead of on facebook and keep memories stored in real albums instead of on digital albums.Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-40328215123741899222011-03-14T12:40:00.003+05:302011-03-14T13:04:20.289+05:30Is BLOOD thicker than ... LOVE n CARE ?I read <a href="http://www.hindu.com/2011/03/10/stories/2011031050640200.htm">this</a> article in The Hindu the other day and a pandora's box of emotions seemed to have opened up within me. The reason being that my son was born not out of my flesh n blood but rather from my heart. Yes, I'm an adoptive parent. To me and S, G is our son, our only child. Whenever someone tells us that we've done a noble deed by adopting a baby, we tell them that, in fact, he has done us a favour by coming into our lives. I'm quite sure that these people have no idea about the queue that awaits an adoptive parent at the adoption agencies. <br /><br />With the coming of G, our lives got a new meaning, a new direction. He has filled our life with love and happiness. Today, there's no bigger joy in our lives than to see him grow, and nurture him in the best way possible. Yes, we scold him when he misbehaves, we try to show him reason when he is unreasonable, we are thrilled to bits when he hugs and kisses us, and are indulgent when he does something naughty in a nice way. Around me, I have friends which biological children and they treat them no differently from how we treat G. <br /><br />Which springs the question in my mind that what happens when & if G someday wants to find his biological parents ? Or, will he face an identity crisis when he learns & understands that he is adopted ? I think that if he ever wanted to know about his biological parents, I would try to help him out in his quest, although I too have very limited knowledge about it. To the latter question, I wish that the answer is NO, he will not be insecure or face an identity crisis. I hope and pray that G grows up to be a well-rounded person who is secure in the knowledge that his parents, that's us, love and care for him and would stand by him through his highs & lows. <br /><br />In fact, in our own mythology we have the example of Lord Krishna who was brought up by His adoptive parents because His biological parents were facing an adverse situation which was a threat to their child's well-being. In fact, Yashoda and Nanda, Lork Krishna's adoptive parents, may have been more of an influence on Him than His biological parents, Devaki & Vasudeva. <br /><br />Now coming to the article quoted above, I feel that maybe Melanie always felt different from her adoptive parents since she looked very different from them or their other children. I feel that she should view her reunion in a positive light and instead of feeling a sense of loss for the time that she has spent away from her birth parents and siblings, she should see this as an opportunity where she can help them in some way, which she can because of the education & other benefits that her adoptive parents have given her. Also, like a friend mentioned, she should be happy that she has two sets of parents both of whom sought to bring happiness into her life. <br /><br />Here's hoping that all stories in life have a Happy Ending.Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-79796707312098081052011-03-09T14:58:00.000+05:302011-03-09T14:58:13.422+05:30Celebrating Women's Day ...<div style='text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;'><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLyKeOqbmBPmqXyCenMMizpXjM8oaR4U_M1332KAZyj76VCrm2Czd1-gaWD2Na09IaMi_2UNMT5pk5QNzI4UZj0nLksWihpA5iF-1BI2Lm5fQatq4Y_kL42ElVIP8WcuRvHb8O4uQl0zQ/s1600/IMG0259A.jpg'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLyKeOqbmBPmqXyCenMMizpXjM8oaR4U_M1332KAZyj76VCrm2Czd1-gaWD2Na09IaMi_2UNMT5pk5QNzI4UZj0nLksWihpA5iF-1BI2Lm5fQatq4Y_kL42ElVIP8WcuRvHb8O4uQl0zQ/s320/IMG0259A.jpg' border='0' alt='' /></a> </div><br /><br />... by indulging ourselves to awesome food, dessert & great company !!!<div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-11694344354755411332010-11-09T14:03:00.002+05:302010-11-09T14:08:28.066+05:30What does your blog say about you ?According to <a href="http://www.typealyzer.com/">Typealyzer</a>, this is what my blog says about me...<br /><br />ESFP - The Performers<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy4brx7W3WwGGLXhyphenhyphenLrlJrn1L953tmZenRRyT5xBhYgPp5jaLarkCbiQMzfsT24_R6zmHkDxbvd2uUSxeD2K9ho9ZGF3Apjd8JRG2TPCzAxu1u4XFENsKDPQSbOjyhtSFWP82GRwE1gnI/s1600/ESFP.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy4brx7W3WwGGLXhyphenhyphenLrlJrn1L953tmZenRRyT5xBhYgPp5jaLarkCbiQMzfsT24_R6zmHkDxbvd2uUSxeD2K9ho9ZGF3Apjd8JRG2TPCzAxu1u4XFENsKDPQSbOjyhtSFWP82GRwE1gnI/s320/ESFP.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537466030431345378" /></a><br /><br />They are entertaining and friendly type. They are especially attuned to pleasure and beauty and like to fill their surroundings with soft fabrics, bright colors and sweet smells. They live in the present moment and don´t like to plan ahead - they are always in risk of exhausting themselves.<br /><br />The enjoy work that makes them able to help other people in a concrete and visible way. They tend to avoid conflicts and rarely initiate confrontation - qualities that can make it hard for them in management positions.Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-57151885003661781212009-11-26T11:40:00.001+05:302009-11-26T11:48:04.767+05:30Just to say Hi<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5Cchandra%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It’s been more than a year since I blogged last. Hope that some of you missed me. :-) Last year in August I resigned from my job and re-joined academics to do my doctoral studies. Like a fool I thought that I would have more time to blog now that I didn’t have to go for work. It turned out to be quite the opposite, in fact. I got so caught up with course work, finding a research problem etc. that let alone write, I couldn’t even find time to read any of the blogs I so love.
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<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Now, I’ve finally finished with all my course work and my research supervisor has shown a little bit of pleasure at my progress in narrowing down on a problem. To add to it, we’ve had some splendid trips in the last couple of months to Kodaikanal, <st1:place st="on">Goa</st1:place> and most recently to the forests of B.R. Hills. So, a few travelogues are on their way.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-style: italic;">
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<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Hi</span> to all of you out there !!!</p> Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-84448931663142207942008-06-21T19:11:00.004+05:302008-06-21T19:31:32.931+05:30Tagged by the Mystic ...<p align="justify">Yes, I’ve been tagged by <a href="http://www.mysticmargarita.blogspot.com/">Mystic Margarita </a>(aptly called Mystic since I read <a href="http://mysticmargarita.blogspot.com/2008/06/dragonfly.html">this</a> one penned by her) to play the book game.<br /><br />The rules of this game are as follows:<br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Pick up the nearest book.</span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Open to page 123.</span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Find the fifth sentence.</span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Post the next three sentences.</span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Tag five people, and acknowledge the person who tagged you.<br /></span><br />Recently, I just finished re-reading <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R.K._Narayan">R.K. Narayan’s</a> <em><strong>Malgudi Days</strong></em>. The author of course needs no introduction & as many of us growing up in the 80s will remember, there was a very popular television series by the same name being aired at that time. S always tells me that the fictional place of <em>Malgudi</em> is actually loosely framed around a place called Malleswaram in Bangalore … a place where I spent the first few years of my marriage. Frankly, today there is no similarity between Narayan’s Malgudi & Malleswaram. To quote Narayan himself …<br /><br /><em>I am often asked “Where is Malgudi ?” All I can say is, it is imaginary & not to be found on any map. If I explain that Malgudi is a small town in South India, I shall only be expressing a half-truth, for the characteristics of Malgudi seem to me universal. I can detect Malgudi characters even in New York: for instance, West Twenty-third Street, … possess every element of Malgudi.</em><br /><br />This novel that I just finished is a collection of short stories based in Malgudi. And by the rules of the game, page 123 contains the 2nd page of a short story titled <strong>A Shadow</strong> which is the story of a just-deceased actor’s son (Sambhu) who feels like he is interacting with his father every time he watches his father’s latest release in the theatre. Sambhu's mother, on the other hand, completely abhors watching the man, whom she knows is no more & will never come back, looking so alive on the screen. Just a short 4-page story, it pulls at the heart-strings and brings out the anguish of both mother & son.<br /><br />So here goes lines 6, 7, & 8 from <em>A Shadow</em> …<br /><br /><strong><em>My father used to read the story to us every night. It’s a very interesting story. He wrote the whole story himself.<br /></em></strong><br />Three short lines that don’t tell much about the story but I guess I’ve given that to you.<br /><br />So now it’s time for me to tag 5 bloggers & I tag <a href="http://whynotblogitout.blogspot.com/">Sucharita</a>, <a href="http://www.blogpourri.blogspot.com/">Blogpourri</a>, <a href="http://happytheelife.blogspot.com/">Sayani</a>, <a href="http://anveshane.blogspot.com/">Deep</a> and returning the favor to <a href="http://mysticmargarita.blogspot.com/">Mystic</a>. :-)</p>Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-13202886465081867292008-06-16T18:25:00.006+05:302008-06-16T18:50:16.450+05:30Happy Father’s Day, Dear Mom<div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Last Saturday, when kids were wishing their Dads a Happy Father’s Day, I wished the same to my <em>Ma</em> (Mom) and rightly so since she has been both a Mom & a Dad to me since Dad passed away when I was just 5. It must’ve been tough for her to play both parents to a son of 12+ & a daughter of 5 but she did it, all the while exhibiting tremendous strength of character, love and belief in her kids. </div><p align="justify"><br />For me at least, <em>Ma</em> made up for the void that <em>Baba</em> (Dad) had left. Of course there were times when I missed <em>Baba</em>. I always felt a pang in my heart when I saw the special relationship that most of my friends shared with their Dads. I was fearful of people who asked me, “Do you remember your father?” because I never knew what the truthful answer was. “Duh, he was my Dad. Surely I remember him” or is it “I was only 5. How can I remember him?” ? The truth is I have snatches of memory from the past when I can clearly visualize <em>Baba</em> but I am not really sure whether those have been conjured up by my mind from hearing the countless stories about him or whether they are the real thing. Anyway, <em>Baba</em> has lived in my memory through the anecdotes told & re-told by <em>Ma</em> & <em>Dada</em> (elder brother) and countless others who knew, loved & respected him. Whereas, <em>Ma</em> has always been & still is beside me through the ups & downs of my life … sharing my joys & sorrows, bolstering my courage when I’m at a loss, correcting my mistakes when required and just being there whenever I need her. </p><p align="justify"> </p><p align="justify">Although <em>Ma</em> never had a career herself, she instilled in me the importance of being independent and did not harass me to get married till I was ready to, although at every family get-together that she went she was harassed about it … everyone asking her when her close-to-30 (read <em>over-the-hill</em>) daughter intended to get married !!! There was never a topic which was taboo for discussion at our home. Ma always encouraged us to speak our minds though there were plenty of times when we didn’t agree with each others’ view points. :-) Despite having had our share of misunderstandings, we have always been friends and today, I am her lifeline as she is mine. </p><p align="justify"> </p><p align="justify">A gutsy and very independent (edging on stubbornness, at times :-) )lady, she lives by herself in our old apartment in Calcutta where she stepped in the day she got married & enjoys life to the hilt ... socializing with friends and relatives. She is my idol ... the perfect Woman of Substance !!!</p><p align="justify"><br /><span style="font-size:180%;color:#006600;"><span style="color:#993399;"><strong>Happy Father’s Day, Dear Ma.</strong></span> </span></p><p align="justify"><br />P.S.: Not only <em>Ma</em> but <em>Dada </em>too, took the rough-edges out of life for me after <em>Baba</em> passed away. I know that he knows, but I wish that there was a special day to tell him too how much I love him & how much he means to me. </p>Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-82639061823564516002008-06-13T11:16:00.003+05:302008-06-13T11:29:51.502+05:30Seems like my fave cat is going through the same crisis in life as me ... :-)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4-0TbIB_DfAwhtzu-qKYhM9T4eQP3HUHEDtyTboX9K0oWWfbr8uW8KAgxtydmpS_oBTYaf3d-G5t_VBYzk41m5mU7pK_G6DVrlvdz7GwN9rIMKqkSDfMaXE0dDeUe6e9pLBU2GB6potw/s1600-h/ga080613.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211241636002643330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4-0TbIB_DfAwhtzu-qKYhM9T4eQP3HUHEDtyTboX9K0oWWfbr8uW8KAgxtydmpS_oBTYaf3d-G5t_VBYzk41m5mU7pK_G6DVrlvdz7GwN9rIMKqkSDfMaXE0dDeUe6e9pLBU2GB6potw/s320/ga080613.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-8088477117619786832008-06-12T10:54:00.003+05:302015-01-06T09:06:20.002+05:30I feel old when…<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
… on seeing the rainy / cloudy skies from my office window, instead of feeling mushy & romantic inside, I catch myself worrying about the clothes hanging out to dry at home getting wet. :-)<br />
<br />
… on coming out of the office, I spend a few seconds wondering where I parked my car in the morning.<br />
<br />
… I watch the ever-increasing strands of grey in my hair (altho’ I pacify myself by remembering a friend who used to have a head full of grey hairs in college itself).<br />
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… I see the grown-up kids of some of my friends.<br />
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… when all & sundry, even the 1 foot taller college-going guy/gal in the building, calls me aunty.<br />
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… when I wake up some mornings with aches & pains in different parts of the body.<br />
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<strong>Addendum 1</strong>: A friend of mine who read this post & the next one told me that I should also feel old when my maid calls me "Amma". But staying in Bangalore for almost 5 years has made me realize that to the Kannadigas calling a lady <em>Amma </em>(mother) is the same as calling a lady <em>Didi</em> (older sister) is for a Bengali ... it is merely a show of respect. So that's granted. :-) However, be warned: when in Bengal, you should absolutely object to being called <em>Boudi</em> (bhabhi, sister-in-law) or <em>Mashima</em> (aunty). :-)<br />
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<b>Addendum 2</b> (6th Jan, 2015): I know I am old when after returning from a trip, no matter how exotic the location or if it was my childhood home, I feel glad to be on my own turf. Home sweet home , indeed !!! Wish I could have it on wheels ...SIGH ... :-)</div>
Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-56589821025386833822008-06-11T16:47:00.003+05:302008-06-11T16:53:15.350+05:30Our personal aviary<p>Reading about <a href="http://whynotblogitout.blogspot.com/2008/06/kitchen-tales-ii-zoo-at-my-window.html">Sucharita’s</a> <em>window zoo</em> reminded me of the aviary that I seem to have started in my balcony … much to my dismay, I might add. So, instead of hogging her comments space, I decided to devote a blog on it.</p><p><br />Since March, 2007, the ever-fertile pigeons seem to have adopted our balconies as their foster home. Yes, it’s balconies in the plural because every time we shoo them away from one, they make themselves comfortable in another. Going so far as to try & build a nest on the top of the book-shelf in the balcony attached to our bedroom which S uses as a study corner. </p><p><br />Last March when one pigeon couple decided to settle on an unused flower pot kept in one corner of the balcony attached to our drawing room as their home, I finally gave in & decided that they could stay. Within days, the lady had laid not one but two eggs !!! I was a little worried that they might get over-protective & try to claw our eyes out if we approached their nest, like crows usually do. However, my maid (<em>Amma</em>, as we mutually call each other) reassured me that pigeons being much gentler creatures than crows will not prove very troublesome … and yes, she was right. As the eggs hatched & the scrawny babies came out, this small aviary turned out to be a major <em>tourist</em> attraction. All guests to our home, especially kids, were fascinated by the pigeon family. We too went so far as to shoot their activities on our handycam. :-) S and I also fed the parents with grains & pulses which they happily devoured after the first few days of wariness. However, the travails of that family ended rather abruptly & sadly when a ruffian crow, who had been flying around since the day before & had been shoo-ed away by me a couple of times, killed the babies early one morning. By the time we woke up, the ruffian’s deed was already done & there was blood & gore (feathers, actually)all over the balcony. Not only were the parents, who kept cooing all day & a few days afterwards on our balcony, heartbroken but so were S and I & we promised ourselves not to attach ourselves to anymore pigeon families. </p><p><br />Only a few days later, another (or perhaps the same) pigeon couple tried occupying some space in the balcony to build their home. I tried to make a small shelter for them by using old sari boxes but they seemed to be threatened by it. Since then our balconies have been the favorite mating-grounds of the pigeons though most of the time we shoo-ed them away. </p><p>Then again in March, 2008 Amma discovered a happy pigeon mother with two eggs tucked beneath her sitting behind the washing machine in our kitchen balcony !!! After some discussion about how their home would affect the operation of our washing machine, we decided to let them stay there. This time, since they were away from the prying eyes of other creatures, the babies survived & as I write this, they have flown their nest & are flying all around. So far, we have been able to keep away other amorous pigeon couples off our balconies but for how long … I don’t know. SIGH !!! :-)</p>Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-45365771035475362822008-04-18T14:18:00.004+05:302008-06-11T17:42:08.752+05:30These are a few of my favourite things ...<p>Well, MM tagged me to do a blog on "Things that make me Happy" and here’s delivering on MM's tag … happily … </p><p><br />· Watching a nice movie at home curled up on the couch<br />· Getting drenched in the rain … when I’m on my way home, not when I’m going to work.<br />· A great meal … preferably cooked by my Mom<br />· Snuggling in bed (preferably below a quilt) with an engrossing book … reading it from start to finish at a go<br />· The twinkle in S’s eyes when I’ve managed to trick him using one of the tricks from his book<br />· Teasing & being teased by S<br />· Traveling to lovely places<br />· Catching up with old friends<br />· A girls night out<br />· Frolicking in the pool<br />· Shopping & window-shopping with like-minded people<br />· Walking along College Street (Calcutta)... also known as <em>boi para</em> (book locality) browsing through books<br />· When the weighing scale tells me that I’ve lost weight<br />· Having chicken roll in the streets of Calcutta<br />· The thought of a joke played on a friend or on me that happened a long long time ago </p><br /><p>… Ohhh … the list is never-ending. There are soooo many things that make me happy. :-) I’m sure that I’ve forgotten quite a few, so Friends, keep watching this place for updates.<br />P.S.: The above list is not in any particular order. All these things give me equal happiness, ALWAYS. :-) :-)</p><p>Update 1 : Like I said there are loads of things that make me happy & here's my 1st addendum...</p><ul><li>When a friend says that she'll be visiting me</li><li>When I have a good-hair day</li><li>Chocolates & ice-creams ... preferably chocolate flavoured :)</li></ul><p> </p><p> </p>Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3347525641613014460.post-72414701088653949232008-03-24T17:50:00.002+05:302008-03-24T17:53:30.528+05:30Different strokes for different folks...The first thing I do every evening when I return home from work, after switching on the lights, is to open the door to the balcony off the hall. So imagine my astonishment & sheer terror when on doing the same last Thursday, I was greeted with the picture of a beehive hanging from the ceiling of our balcony. You might ask … “Why terror?” … well, being born and brought up in the concrete jungle of Kolkata, I am unused to being so close to nature. And, I’m not only scared of things that sting (like these bees) but also scared of the most innocuous insect which buzzes and / or flies, including things as harmless as moths or even butterflies.<br /><br />To continue where I left … all doors and windows to all balconies were kept closed throughout the evening on Thursday and Friday morning saw us making frantic calls to people asking for help to get rid of these bees. One of these people reassured us that since the bees had been there only for a day so far, they had not really created the hive & would be easy to get rid of. This same good Samaritan suggested that we could get rid of the bees by creating a lot of smoke by burning <em>saambhrani</em> (or <em>sambirani</em>) dhoop over hot coal. So far, I had heard of the <em>saambhrani </em>being put to a <a href="http://blogpourri.blogspot.com/2007/07/traditional-baby-baths-in-india.html">totally different use</a>. However, the fragrant <em>saambhrani</em> worked very well for us too and we were able to shift the hive from our balcony to a concrete overhanging slightly removed from it. That’s why I say … different strokes for different folks. :-)Piscean Angelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16593584850990296413noreply@blogger.com1