Living in The Music Room

It’s been years since I’ve read a book in one sitting. Namita Devidayal’s The Music Room made me fall back in love with the hobby cum passion I had for reading.

For someone who doesn’t interact with me daily, there’s a life update – I finally started learning Hindustani Classical Music – vocals and my guru was fortunate to learn from the senior exponents of the Jaipur-Atrauli gharana of Indian music. I have started my humble beginnings in her music room and still have miles to go.

It was by chance that I landed on The Music Room. Well-read readers would agree that one doesn’t just pick up a book and read. You beg, borrow, steal (uh maybe not!), or buy a book. You let it sit on your desk, cupboard, or table and let the right mood set in. For me, this happened on a lazy Sunday afternoon after I had it issued from a library and let it immerse in my cosy abode for at least a couple of weeks.

If you have ever learnt even a bit of Indian Classical Music, you would know that much of our Indian music has always been passed on in a Guru-Shishya tradition. It’s a sanskar, a lifestyle, a sadhana, and a different path to reach the same goal that someone on a spiritual path aspires to reach. Namita Devidayal’s book is a beautiful memoir about her much similar journey with her guru – Dhondutai Kulkarni. Like herself, the book also starts with an innocence and just draws you in to make you realise how the author initially is bogged down with the change of worlds every week – from a posh south Bombay locality to the gritty world of outside chaos and the wonderful peaceful music room of her guru to the point where she realises the genius that her guru is. 

What drew me in this book is the history that is described so beautifully. This book also takes you through the timelines of the history of how the Jaipur-Atrauli gharana formed, the divinity of Ustad Alladiyan Khan, his disciples, Dhondutai’s musical sadhana with Ustad Alladiyan Khan, and later with the fiery, incredible, yet tempestuous Kesarbai Kerkar.

Dhondutai never married and was loyal to none other than the gharana. There have been artists who have transcended beyond the gharana and there are artists who have never stepped a foot outside and have worshipped the gayaki of the gharana with almost a religious fervour. Apparently, Dhondutai saw glimpses of what Namita can turn into…she almost wanted Namita to reach the same heights that her gurus expected her to reach.

While reading the book, you mature with Namita. One sees her world and lives the time Namita lives with Dhondutai. Whatever painful times Dhondutai must have encountered are resolved in an almost simplistic manner. The book doesn’t make you feel uneasy about anything in Dhondutai’s life. Her life is described in a relatively simple manner -- her remaining single, her looking after her old mother, then losing her mother and her friend, her struggle to retain the sanctity of the gharana or even when she loses her home, she finds another haven almost too simplistically. Maybe the objective of the book isn’t to focus on the hardships but on the relationship between the guru-shishya. No matter what, the book gives you a warm feeling almost like you can see the glimpses of their life through the pensieve. For a student of classical music, this novel made me fall in love with the art and go back to learning with slightly more, if not sincere dedication than before.

The battle with the name!

I am Shweta Hardikar married to Deven Kher.

My marriage certificate says so, my passport says the same. I have a joint account with my husband just to prove that we are indeed together in the eyes of the lawmakers. In the eyes of the God, we are already together no matter what names we choose to use. I always believed that the choice of retaining your maiden name or choosing to accept your husband's name is a personal one. It's a choice, which I am not gonna defend or oppose. It's a choice, not a prerogative, which should be enforced by anyone.

I chose to retain my maiden name for personal reasons. I knew that I am not going to change my name even when I wasn't sure who I was getting married to. I was always sure that I am and will always be known by my name given by my parents. Some can say that it is after all a man's last name even if you chose to retain it. The big difference is that the name I retain is of someone who has co-created me. He supersedes the one who is now sharing my life.

It took my husband some time to support my decision. Everyone, including my mother, asked me why am I doing this? My husband and his family were worried that I might land into issues with the government institutions. Their concern was more for the legalities, but I could sense their unease. Thankfully, my husband, though a little uneasy initially, didn't bother me much to change my last name. Five years later, we haven't had a major issue with the name yet and now he has seen that a name doesn't change how I feel about him.

I still face some unexpected reactions from my friends, relatives, and strangers the moment I say I have retained my name. The only person who had wholeheartedly supported my choice was my doctor. She had retained her name and assured me that she never ran into issues almost 20 years after getting married.

I feel the entire unease with a woman not changing her name or rather not accepting her husband's last name comes from the belief that a woman doesn't become a part of their family unless she has the same name. How does a name change what I feel for my new family? I always liked them and grew fond of them over the years. I will always take care of them no matter what my name is. The feeling of one family doesn't come with a name. We see so many cases of daughter-in-laws troubling their parents-in-law and vice versa. They have the same name. We don't see dowry cases being resolved because of the same name. So what's the big deal with taking your husband's last name? Unless it's some patriarchal image imbibed in the man where he needs to own the lady completely. As one dear ex-boyfriend had once told me, he wanted me to take his name because he wanted me to be his completely. Thank God I never married him.

Indian government institutes still find it difficult to accept that women choose their names. This is surprising considering we allow people to change their names based on their whims and fancies but a woman retaining her name is almost a sacrilege. I also had my fair share of problems, where I had to convince an officer at the passport office that I am X married to Y, and here's the marriage certificate. He still used it as a ploy to extract a bribe. I've heard stories of my friend whose son's birth certificate contained her name and her husband's name, which was not the same and the municipal corporation refused to accept a form with parent's name not matching. My friend went thru some personal agony and bureaucracy before getting it done her way. Even my election card has messed up my husband's name. Because some genius (and I say this with as much sarcasm that I can use) accepting the form didn't understand or bother to understand the difference, my election card now reads my husband's name as Deven Hardikar, a hilarious mistake by him, evoking an almost a blood-boiling kinda reaction from me.

The battle has just begun. It surprises me that a country who allows me to chose my education, my job, my career, my life, my husband, and rest everything in my life is still uncomfortable when I chose my name. No fans of Shakespeare for sure!

All I ask for is the choice to decide my name. Is it really a tough one?

Coming out - Freedom to love

The best teacher is the one who teaches us things outside the syllabus.

Source: Arjun Kamath - Coming out.

Growing up, I didn't know much about homosexuality. All I heard were strong objections against homosexuals in India. A film being banned, posters burned, ancient scriptures quoted by both who were for or against homosexuality because let's admit it - our ancestors were far more progressive than us so definitely left some widely contradictory things written in the scriptures. Homosexuality was never discussed with parents, friends, peers, or teachers. I knew I liked boys, so I didn't think about anyone who likes girls instead.

I always believe my thoughts and my perceptions about things happening around us were widened and changed radically when I was doing my masters. A time when I had teachers of such varied personalities that it was an experience in itself to adapt to their teachings. On one end, we had a teacher who made us ask his permission even if we needed to go out of the class to pee and had a strict roll call before starting the class and on the other end we had a teacher who didn't even ask our names for one entire year and never stuck to the syllabus. That was also a time when we were treated like adults. We were learning, but were no longer thought about as a bunch of kids, but rather made to think like individuals, citizens, and a new generation.

A big part of the first year in my Masters was to watch films and discuss them (The best part of my life and something that made me fall in love with films as a medium). I don't remember what we were watching, but the issue of homosexuality was being discussed and I remember my professor asking us as a class that one question, which changed my perspective about homosexuality forever.

He asked us - Do you choose whom do you fall in love with?

Being someone who was always in and out of love in my young days, I took a moment to think and then come to a conclusion that no, I didn't choose any of the people I fell in love with. It just happened. I am not a scientist so I can never explain the chemical reactions or the physiological changes that happen in one's brain when one falls in love. The only certain thing I know is that I didn't choose with whom I should fall in love with. It happens. It happens that I like boys, but that's also why I can now understand how a girl falls in love with a girl or a boy falls in love with a boy. No amount of science and rationale can convince me that there's a formula for falling in love with a boy or a girl. It simply happens.

So if I naturally fall in love with boys, then why should I blame someone if she falls in love with a girl? I may not understand the attraction, but I have no right to deny, challenge, condemn, or even insult such a relationship. If two people fall in love, it's entirely up to them how they live, love, and care for each other. As a girl loving a boy I don't want any interference in my relationship, if my relationship is so personal, then so is that girl's relationship with her girl or that boy's relationship with his guy.

That day when my teacher asked us if we choose whom we fall in love with, he taught us that some things are beyond our understanding and that's why we should not tamper with it if we don't know how to handle it. Just because I don't understand a relationship, I am not allowed to disregard it. I learnt to be a little more human that day.

I want that freedom to love anyone that I want to, and I want that freedom for everyone around me.

This post was triggered by watching this beautiful picture story created by Arjun Kamath and shared by Storypick.com. You can view the story here: Coming out. 
Also, this is how I want to celebrate Teacher's Day by remembering how my teachers contributed to help me become who I am today. 

My happy place

This could be a long blog post about how much I miss the rains back home. Or this could just be the one stating my undying love for the rains and my home. I don't know what I miss more, the rains, a hot cup of tea, view from my balcony, the blooming garden, or just everything that comes with the rain.

My happy place

This is my balcony back home. The periwinkle at the far left is my forever blooming plant. The white lilies bloom like crazy when it rains and fill my entire container with their joy. The tiny elephant and a horse cart figurines retain and spread the aroma of the wet mud in the air. The one at the center is a tuberose plant, the only flowers which I adore. My husband planted this one for me because he knows how much I love tuberoses and every now and then he used to place a small bunch by my bedside. The palms are my husband's idea for creating privacy when we want to hang out on the terrace. At the far right is the tiny lotus pond, two lotuses bloom every alternate day, bright lavenderish violet shade.

White lilies

Butterfly Blue Pea

There's another plant here which I planted from the seeds I and a friend collected on our post-lunch walks. The butterfly blue pea vine, blooms beautiful blue flowers and is my absolute favorite flower after tuberoses. A type of wildflower and grows almost in any condition. Takes a long time to bloom, but when it does, it does with abandon.

It's said that when you are feeling sad and lonely, you should think of a happy place. This is my happy place. I can sit here for ages, till the stars come out, gazing at the plants, my terracotta figurines, the wet floor, the beautiful sky in the background. Many a moons have we spent on this terrace dreaming, talking, making plans, entertaining friends and family. This has always been a happy place and I can't wait to go back and enjoy the same view. 

So much depends on a red wheelbarrow

Source: http://www.aplithelp.com/red-wheelbarrow-much-depends-noticing/

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens

Don't put me on a pedestal

I refuse to be an ideal woman.

I am no longer going to juggle between my home and my work.
Some days, work takes a priority, some days my home.

I won't be the one to cook a meal because I am a girl.
I will cook because I love creating magic out of the mundane.

I am no longer the only one cleaning the house after a tiring day at work.
Some days, the mess is acceptable.

In my home, we have a rule - we work together, we relax together.
We don't let the other one sit and surf channels, while one is busy with the dirty laundry.

I won't be the home maker because I am a woman.
My home is shared with my partner and he will make it with me.

I love and honor my partner because he is my person.
He won't be my God just because he is a man.

I won't make sacrifices because I am a woman.
I adjust and adapt because it takes two to tango.

I refuse to bow down because I am a woman.
I change because love is always about accepting and changing yourself.

I will no longer be afraid of failures.
It's the challenge that keeps me going, and failures are but a stepping stone.

I refuse to stand on a pedestal for doing everything while killing myself.
I am gonna be deep in shit sometimes and still be real happy about it.


Random musings. I am blessed to be born in a family where I wasn't treated unfairly because I was a girl. I live with a person who doesn't believe I should do some things in the home just because I am a woman. He just knows I am better at some things and he is better at some. This pledge is for all women who are asked to sacrifice themselves in the name of marriage, family, home, and husband. The idea of an ideal woman, who manages her home and work successfully is no longer applicable. Let me be a human first.

The Recycled Book Store

I love the smell of a new book almost as much as Hermione loves the smell of a parchment. However, I recently discovered that I love the stains on the second hand books, the yellowed paper, nondescript scribbles, and broken bindings more than a brand new book.

After moving to San Jose, the only thing I really asked people about was a book store. Surprisingly, book stores are not easily available in this city. Yes, you will find the public libraries, I live in front of one, but the charm of a book store is very different than using the Kindle App. I asked my colleagues and the nearest one was almost 10 kilometers away. A little research revealed this small Recycled Book Store near my area, which I decided to explore with my husband one weekend.

The moment you step inside this book store, you receive a warm welcome from a pile of books, which are generally available for less than a $1. I always stop here. I enter and cannot take three steps inside without already picking a book from the welcoming pile. My husband moves on to the comics section.

The store is surprisingly well organised, by themes, and then alphabetically. One can get lost in the rows and rows of books, wooden flooring, and cosy corners to just pick up a book and read for some time. If you are lucky, the cats will graze by or stare at you. Cat lovers will love this place.

Recycled Book Store

I always wonder who was the original owner of the book, which I decided to buy. I always wanted to buy a Calvin and Hobbes volume and when I found one, it looked as if someone really used it well. Yellowed pages, brown stains as if someone spilled a little coffee, markers of the book being used, being read, being handled by someone else before me. The books invite me to not just explore the written words, but also guess work about who read it first. Did a parent read it out to their kid? Was a PG Wodehouse book passed on from grandparent to a grand child like my grand mom did? Was a book donated because the owners no longer had space or had grown out of the book? So many questions raise to my mind when I enter this shop.

A part of the science fiction aisle

There are also some rare finds that one stumbles across in this book store, like the one time I found an Asterix comic in French. I didn't buy it cos I can't read French, and my husband absolutely forbade me to buy anything just because it was in it's original language.

In a land far far away from my home, this recycled book shop give me a feeling of being closer to my roots just by helping me find my favorite authors, or favorite titles. It helps me realize that there are some common threads even when you are away from home. A Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, still gives you the same goosebumps that an abridged version gave you when you first read it probably in your teen age. The Lord Emsworth (from several P.G. Wodehouse books) is still that hilarious old forgetting man, which made you laugh not so long ago.

No matter how convenient it is to load a thousand books on your phone, when it comes to reading as an experience, I would any day pick a book, and now a used book over a new one.

Live alone woman, find yourself in your solitude

As I mentioned in my earlier post, my biggest regret is that I didn't live on my own in my 20s. I came to Pune for my Masters education and since we were not so great on funds, lived with my sister and her family. Two years later I was graduated and had a good job, which could have allowed me to stay on my own. My sister didn't kick me out of the house and I was so comfortable, I didn't step out. The plus point is that I got to spend a wonderful time with my niece so much so that I tell my husband that she is my first baby and when I have real babies they will have to compete with her - no questions asked! When my baby was two, I got married and went to stay at my husband's place. Now I don't want to live alone.

Call it luck, but when my husband moved to the US, I got a blissful period of two months on my own. When he had gone on business trips earlier, short ones, I used to move my bags to my sister's place. This time, I decided to stay put.

For the first time, I wasn't scared living alone. Except locking my bedroom door, I didn't feel like doing anything else. I didn't leave the lights of the entire house on, neither did I call my husband for all the time that I was alone in the room. Slowly, I started realizing the joys of living on my own.

I must say, living on my own when I was working is no doubt a great comfort than living when you are a student. For the first time, I made impromptu plans with friends, went for drinks, drives, and laughed like crazy. I shopped for my own food, planned my meals, luckily I have an excellent maid, so I didn't have to cook. I started going for exercises in the evening, bought groceries, paid the maid, the bills, met friends for dinner and had a great time.

I also learnt the joy of enjoying in your own house. This was the first time I celebrated New Year's Eve alone, with a drink, made myself some appetizers, ordered my favorite food and watched TV. Being alone and being lonely are two different things. I was happy being with just me.

One night I had a solid craving for Fish, if you know me, then you know how strong my cravings are, and they need to be fulfilled as early as possible. I called up a new place, ordered fish, told the chef to customize a dish my way, and asked his recommendation for accompaniments. That was one of the best meals I enjoyed in a long time.

Two months later, my mom joined me and I still had a good time with her. I realized I love to have people around but I am always happy being just by my own. This period of two months was very important for me. It taught me how to be happy on your own. It also made me realize that I was happy because I had a loved one in my life, he was just not in the same space, but he was there and I was going to meet him eventually. I learnt that there's a difference between being lonely and being alone. That's also a reason now I feel every person should try and live alone at least some time in their life. It teaches us so much, in such little time. It makes us realize who we are and what we want. The solitude makes us introspect and resolve a lot of troubled issues.

I still regret not living alone when I was single. 

And then she crossed the line...

I turned 30 this year. 

No, not today. In May. I moved to a new country and for the first time, was alone on my birthday. My husband had to work and since we didn't have a car, I cooked the birthday meal, something which I hate doing on my special day, because we couldn't go out. Before anyone feels sorry for me, let me clarify that my husband made the weekend special for me by taking me out to a sea-facing restaurant, with all my favorite food, and two glasses of my much-loved Red Wine Sangria. The gloom of being alone in a land far far away was too much to make me write until today. 

But this post is not about how I spent my 30th birthday. It's how I feel now that I am no longer in my 20s. 30s is supposed to be when you get wise, you become mature, in most cases, you have children and are too busy to even bother about what's happening around you. For me, 30 is just a number, but a number that kind of rings a bell. There's so much that I haven't done yet and no it's not just about not having kids. 

This birthday was special, as few friends and family reminded me that I am still childless, as if I don't know that. I have crossed THE line. My time is running out, my biological clock is ticking. I know all that. 

For an Indian women, by 30's if you haven't had a child, you are considered a rebel, or worse, you have health issues, which people make it a point to ask and give free advice too. For Indian women, having children is everyone's business. Your mother, your mother-in-law, your friends, your aunts, your neighbors, your distant relatives, your doodhwala, your bhajiwala and so on. Nobody asks you - Do you and your husband want to have children? Are you physically, mentally, and financially capable of taking a responsibility of your lifetime?

This assumption that since I am married for 5 years and now crossed the ripe age of fertility, I should be popping out kids is preposterous. I lament because majority of times, I am the one who goes thru the torment, not my husband. As if his part is so minuscule that it doesn't matter whether he is ready or not. I don't remember his father asking him about his plans to have a baby. Fine, I am a carrier, but isn't his contribution required? The worse part is, it's not even like we don't want a baby, it's just that we want it when we want it, not when the world wants it or because we are crossing an age limit or because our biological clocks are ticking. A point to be taken into consideration - it's only my biological clock ticking, not my husband's. I don't see his mother worried for him. I don't see his brother advising him to make babies. This is the stark difference that's so culturally ingrained in us, that we don't even stop to think as to why only a woman is harassed and I chose the word deliberately, harassed over having a baby.  

Before I am being considered rude for saying things like these, I would like to make it clear that I understand the love and concern of my loved ones. What I fail to understand and maybe make people realize is that life is not a time table. I am a 30 year old woman and if I count the things that I have done, the list of things that I haven't done is bigger. All internet articles tell you to make bucket lists of things that you must do before you are 30. I didn't have a bucket list, neither did I make one after realizing I missed a decade of my youth. What I did do, I am happy with. I didn't travel a lot, I didn't see my own country, I didn't go for treks, I didn't learn Yoga, I didn't live alone (biggest regret of my life), I never actually became independent even though I was earning quite well. 

As I cross the line from the 20s to the 30s, I want my life to be much more than having a baby. I want to be peaceful and happy in my relationship with my husband. I want to spend time decorating my home the way I always wanted. I want to cook and experiment with food to satisfy my palette and make my husband happy with his simple waran bhat. I want to read and write a lot more. I am already working, but I want to pursue a hobby, maybe think of learning a new skill. In my 20's my dream was to spend more time on my writing, learn, read, see new places, talk to people, and have a good time when I reach 30s. That's it, that was my goal - to have a good time and that's what I want to do now that I am 30 - have a good time in my life. Whether I have a baby or not, whether I change my life or not, whether I switch my career or not, all I want to do is have a good time.     

Do not go gentle into that good night

"Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day; 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light..."

Dylan Thomas's Do not go gentle into that good night is one poem I always remember when I think about death. I studied this in my BA time frame and had an amazing poetry teacher. Dylan Thomas is asking his father who is on deathbed, to not go into the silent night without putting up a fight. He says wise men, good men, brave men, wild men, all are aware of the finality of death and yet do not accept it as friend and do not go gently...

The fact that life's going to end some day, does not mean one should resign against death and accept the defeat. This poem is as much about life as about death. No matter who you are and what you have done, it is not befitting for any man to go gently into that good light. 

Here's the rest of the poem:


Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

- Dylan Thomas

Butterfly Blue Pea or Gokarna - A miracle in mundane life!

It's not everyday that you find miracles in mundane life.

Everyone knows about the "Gokarna" flower. It grows almost like a wild flower in our gardens. As a child, I have seen it grown among weeds and I always assumed it is a wild flower. Yesterday, on a walk with a friend, we stumbled upon this pretty ink blue flower - Gokarna. But, that's not what I wanted to share.

Gokarna or Butterfly Blue Pea

Since I belong to a generation, which uses Google for searching about every single thing, I googled about this flower and stumbled upon very very interesting things. According to Wikipedia, the scientific name of this flower is Clitoria ternatea. Apparently, it's shaped like a female genitalia, which is another wonder since throughout our childhood we were told it looks like a cow's ear. Cultural differences affect our perception so much! I might have looked at this flower infinite times and yet I was never struck with a similarity with female anatomy :).

The second most interesting thing I learnt is about the edible properties of this flower. Being a foodie, I know about edible zuccini blossoms, or even our local banana flower. Not just can you eat this flower as a snack (fry it), use it as a coloring agent, but the most common uses of Butterfly Blue Pea is to make tea.

Butterfly blue pea flowers are infused in hot water and you can drink this blue tea. There are surprising benefits of this cute little flower. It's good for your eye sight, good for healthy skin, memory boosting, and contains antioxidants which curb the harmful effects of free radicals. I won't go into a list of its benefits as this is not a medical post. You can read more about the benefits here.

Someone's rightly said, several small joys give infinite pleasure than one big happy event. Stumbling upon this creeper, taking its seeds home to sow, reading about its shape and connotations, reading about its medicinal value, edible value, and so on were all small moments of happiness for me. I have memories of morning walks with my grandmom and collecting flowers on our way. The bright blue color was always a favorite.

Now, I am waiting for the plant to grow and infuse its happiness in a blue tea :).

I am so happy I found something that gave me happiness on so many levels!

Being Indian

Source: https://www.facebook.com/drsubramanianswamy/photos/a.118146701658320.18858.107229389416718/401429553330032/?type=1&theater

Goodbye 2013, Welcome 2014

I am not so good at remembering things, so this is not going to be a rewind post on how 2013 was. 2013 was good for me, well, as far as I remember, all 28 years of my life have been good to me (So now you know how old I am and that I am an optimist). I am bad at keeping my resolutions, so this is not going to be a post on my future goals or resolutions for 2014 either.

If 2013 has taught me one thing, then it is that life is made of lot of unexpected joys and sorrows. The more we plan, prepare, research, and decide things that we would want to do, the more unexpected events are arriving at your door. The only thing I remember is how crazy the world was when we were at the end of the year 2012, an impending apocalypse expected by many. Yet, we survived the frenzy and are very much here to welcome 2014.

Life, to me, is almost surreal.

Surrealism was the cultural movement that started in the 1920s with an aim to resolve the previous contradictory conditions of dreams and reality*. While I am not going to talk about what the previous era was, or what happened during the surrealism movement, I will only share the most amazing piece of the surrealistic movement and the one I admire and associate my time most with.

Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Persistence_of_Memory

This is the painting by Salvador Dali, a Spanish surrealist painter. Dalí attributed his "love of everything that is gilded and excessive, my passion for luxury and my love of oriental clothes" to an "Arab lineage", claiming that his ancestors were descended from the Moors.**

The painting - Persistence of Memory# is one of my favorite paintings. I am not a painter, neither do I understand art, but I this painting invokes in me a sense of timelessness, a feeling of extreme turmoil, peace, and despair co-existing within me.

Life, to me, is almost surreal.

*source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Surrealism
** source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salvador_Dal%C3%AD
# source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Persistence_of_Memory

Social Media in Plain English

Made in 2008 by @CommonCraft  the Social Media in Plain English #video still makes absolute sense! #socialmedia 

When life seems a little dull...

What do you do when life seems a little dull at 7 PM on a Monday evening?
I do this: 

10 favorite Calvin and Hobbes quotes that never fail to crack me up:

1. I like maxims that don’t encourage behavior modification.
2. Reality continues to ruin my life.
3. Everybody seeks happiness! Not me, though! That’s the difference between me and the rest of the world. Happiness isn’t good enough for me! I demand euphoria!
4. Sometimes I think the surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that none of it has tried to contact us.
5. I'm killing time while I wait for life to shower me with meaning and happiness.
6. As a math atheist, I should be excused from this.
7. When life gives you lemons, chunk it right back.
8. Girls are like slugs - they probably serve some purpose, but it's hard to imagine what
9. Weekends don't count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless.
10. And the bestest and the most favorite of all: Why isn’t my life like a situation comedy? Why don’t I have a bunch of friends with nothing better to do but drop by and instigate wacky adventures? Why aren’t my conversations peppered with spontaneous witticisms? Why don’t my friends demonstrate heartfelt concern for my well being when I have problems? …I gotta get my life some writers.

What do you do to cure Monday-evening-gloom :)

Promoting Better Health in Haiti with IBM SmartCloud

Moments like these make me proud of being in #IT and #cloudcomputing.

Words in a new world

Image courtesy of Kittisak at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Words are so interesting! I was chatting with a friend and he asked me why aren't there any blog posts on my blog since the last few days? Before I could answer, he said are you going through a blogger's block? Interesting, ain't it?

Internet has made everyone a writer. The very idea that anyone can write and share her opinions via blogs, twitter, Facebook, and other channels has made this world an interesting one.

It made me think, what are such words which have developed newly due to the entire advent of Web and social media. These are the couple of words that I have come across which I never learnt in school and I am not really sure if they are in any dictionary yet:

• Blogger's block
• Content Crafters
• Information Developers (I am one)
• Crowdsourcing
• Tweeting 
• Facebook-ing

Have you come across any such words?

Beat Monday morning blues

This is how I beat my Monday morning blues:

An evening with sushi and the suave foodies in Pune

If there is any cooking class that I would willingly attend it has to be the one which teaches delicate, pretty food, with a complimentary glass of wine. Last weekend, on 18^th July, I and my sister, Shilpa attended a Sushi making party at the O Hotel’s Harajuku restaurant. Harajuku is a town in Tokyo and we didn’t hassle ourselves in wondering why it is named after that town.

The moment one steps inside the restaurant, the conspicuous red and black décor puts one in a mood for some Japanese food. We were late and the session had already started just a few minutes ago. We walked in the middle of the amazing discussion on making the Shari (sushi rice) with Japanese vinegar. The chef recommends the Japanese rice as it is highly glutinous and thus becomes sticky. Surprisingly, even if the texture of the rice required to make is sticky, each and every grain of the rice is intact and can be notably tasted. Indian basmati rice cannot be a substitute. However, the chef claims that Japanese rice is easily available in fine food stores in Pune. (List provided at the end of the blog post).

The chef spoke about the basic ingredients required to make sushi such as Shari (rice), Neta (raw fish, either tuna, salmon, prawns, or crab), Nori (seaweed) sheets, and the most important ingredient – Wasabi. Wasabi is a green colored spicy paste resembling horseradish and is extremely pungent. For making a roll of sushi less than a pinch of wasabi can be used. Apart from wasabi, Gari or pickled ginger was added as a garnish, as it serves as a palate cleansing agent between two types of sushi.

Various types of sushi

The chef demonstrated how to make sushi with Nori sheets inside the Maki (sushi roll), with rice on the outside. This proved to be quite difficult to make but was an all time favorite. We made sushi with nori sheets outside, California rolls, Temaki (cone-shaped sushi), and Nigri sushi. The Nigri sushi was the most interesting and simple to make as it was just fish (salmon, prawns, or tuna) compressed on a mound of rice.

It was our turn now. After all, it was a “Roll your own sushi and eat it too” party. It seemed so easy when the chef was doing it, but when we stuck our hands and rolled up our sleeves, rolling sushi was a bit devious. After one or two attempts, we finally started getting it right. The suave food enthusiasts were quite happy with their attempts, and tried almost everything that the chef had showed us. Foodies were making the nigri sushi or the California maki, although I didn't see anyone daring enough to roll a temaki (cone-shaped sushi). A few daring ones made sushi with the ebi (prawns) in the maki (roll).

My sister Shilpa- The only vegetarian in the party

Among the gathering of 20-25 odd gourmets, there was one brave vegetarian – my sister. She had the courage to spend approximately 1400 rupees on learning sushi with avocado, carrots, or cucumber inside the roll. She made a carrot roll, which was interesting and one of its kind. Thanks to her, I came to know that there is a concept of vegetarian sushi.

At the end of the two hour session (which we didn't realize how happily we spent), all foodies were invited to taste their own creations, pick and choose from other’s plate all accompanied with a glass of wine. The only disappointment was that we didn't get to drink the Japanese sake – rice wine.

The chef overlooks while I make the crab sushi roll

If the chef was a smiling one with bright enthusiasm for teaching us how to make sushi, the staff was no less. We had people explaining us the correct way to eat a sushi, with chopsticks. Heck! The chef taught us how to hold the chopsticks and he actually managed to tear pieces of the gari (pickled ginger) with his chopsticks.

We were not so skilled, but managed to pull it off by picking up a sushi piece, dipping it in a small bowl of light soy sauce with wasabi mixed in it and putting it in our mouth in one go, without spilling a bit.

It is considered unkind and rude to leave any rice bits on the plate and we decided not to be rude (The pretty and delicate sushi on our plate ensured that we fall short on only licking the plate clean).

And that’s how we ended a wonderful soiree with sushi.

Places where one can find all the ingredients required to prepare sushi:

• Godrej Nature's Basket - Aundh, Koregon Park
• Fine Foods - Karve road
• Dorabjee's - Camp

All set with my plate

Goodness feeling

There are some people in life who brighten up your face, your day, your life with just their mere presence. Today a strange thing happened to me. As usual, I was Facebooking (oh yeah! That's a word) and I saw this  photo of very dear friend:

And I smiled. I had a huge, wide grin on my face :).

This girl has been through a lot (and who doesn't) and yet, this smile of hers means the world to me. It is very reassuring. Forget the fact that this photo is brilliantly composed. Forget, for a moment, the amazing color combination that works fantastic in this photo. Just take a moment and look at that smile! If anything can be so refreshing than this one, you gotta tell me.

Thanks Mani, this one is for you.