Destinations wishlist

We all have our wishlist.. wishlist like "Things I want to eat", "Things I want to do", "People I want to meet", and of-course "Places I want to see". What better time than now, when the new year unfolds , to look into my Destination wishlist , add a few and may be subtract a few as well.
I simply love travelling. While I was growing up, my parents made sure we make a trip to any new land every year. Because of my school and studies, Baba's office and Ma's school , it was usually during Diwali holidays we made our trip to far and near places. I just love touring and tripping and don't mind any landscape except for crowdy and congested places. I love sea as well as mountains, I love jungles and rain-forests as well as sand dunes. Palaces and temples allure me and so does vintage cities. My husband is more of a mountain person. He is all gaga about hills and deep forests. Sand dunes and big bustling cities don't attract him that much. Here's my list of 10 places I(or rather WE) would want to visit.

1. Kashmir
The "heaven on earth" this is one place I would just die to go. From mountains and hills, to lakes, rivers, from  flower meadows to snow desserts , from temples to mosques and monasteries Kashmir is a tourist's paradise.
The northernmost of state of India, JnK stands like a crown.  The state has three different climatic regions : Arctic cold deserts of Ladakh, temperate Kashmir valley and sub-tropical Jammu. Rich in flora and fauna not to forget the delectable Kashmiri Cuisine , if we ever visit Kashmir we would make sure it is during the Tulip festival.

2. Alaska
The largest state of US , this land of beauties has attracted me since childhood. Alaska was purchased from Russia in 1867 and remains the least populated state of US. It is the land of adventure and unspoiled wilderness. The immense geography, wildlife , flora and fauna are a treat. The many national parks and national forests, the icebergs , the long coastlines , the Dalton highway crossing the tundra and the Arctic Circle and of-course Mt McKinley ... Alaska is definitely a lifetime destination.

3. Kailash Mansarovar and Tibet
 I had read a poem about the beautiful Mansarovar lake at the foothills of Mount Kailash. Thanks to the beauty of the expressive poem , my desire to visit this place has bloomed and flourished since then. Mansarovar is the highest freshwater lake in the world. The Hindu religion refers to the Mansarovar as the soul of Brahma. There are four great rivers springing from this lake.
While Mount Kailash , is revered by Hindus, Buddhists, Jains. For Hindus , this mountain represents the abode of Lord Shiva. For Buddhists, it remains the center of Universe.
Apart from all the religious importance, this place and the Kailash Mansarovar trek has some of the most panoramic scenery and breathtaking beauty.

4. Jaisalmer and Sand dunes
I have been to Jaipur but could not get a peak of the Thar and its sand dunes from there.. so Jaisalmer and also for its forts and temples. Being so arid, I totally love the vibrant colors of Thar and its people. Located in the heart of Thar, this city is quite close to the Indian border. The sand dunes , the fort, the haveli,the Jain temples, the mud houses ,the camel ride and the Rajasthani cuisine provide a rustic and peaceful solitaire from the busy life.

5. New Zealand
This island nation sits on the Pacific Rim of Fire and so is the land to spectacular geothermal areas and volcanoes. It is strewn with glaciers, golden beaches, mountains and plains, forests and fiords. The country was aloof from the rest of the world for 80 million years and this resulted in the immense diversity of flora and fauna found here. The active volcanoes and the hot spring , geysers , hills and mountains may be the hot hot pursuit of Mr Husband, but for me New Zealand holds another secret. This is the land of over 170 exotic birds some of which are native to New Zealand only. Also it is home to the earth's richest flora.

6. Kruger National Park
The first bengali novel which I had read was "Chander Pahar" meaning "Mountain of the mountain"at the age of 10. This was a pre-independence story of a boy who had gone to Africa to find work and for adventure. The story portrayed vividly the wild dangerous and mesmerizing Africa. Since then I have been fascinated by this wild continent.
The Kruger national park is one of Africa's largest wildlife reserves. Home to all the Big Five Game "lion, African elephant, cape buffalo, leopard, rhinocerous" along with numerous other mammals, around 517 bird species including native and migrants,  114 reptile species, and 50 fish species , this is located in the most ecologically heterogeneous regions of Southern Africa.

7. Sunderban Tiger Reserve
How can we miss the Sunderban which is in our backyard. Situated at the confluence of Ganga Brahmaputra, Sunderban is part of the world's largest delta. The largest reserve for Bengal Tiger, Sunderban is densely covered by mangrove forests.
Other than the Bengal Tiger, it is home to 58 mammal species  , 55 reptiles species, 248 bird species many of which are endangered .
This paradise for wildlife lovers is a must in our list.

8. Bhutan
This Himalayan Kingdom, with its mystic beauty and serenity is every trekker's paradise. While its pristine ecology is cradle of rare endangered flora and fauna, spiritually strong only Vajrayana Buddhist nation in the world. The rugged mountains and deep valleys are rich with spectacular biodiversity making Bhutan one of the world's top ten  most important bio-diverse hotspots.

9. Valley of Flowers
Seen on Discovery and National Geography a hundred times, this place beckons me like a fairy land. Nestled in the high in Himalayas of Uttaranchal, protected by the snow capped mountains, its' again a trekker's paradise. The place blooms to its magnificence with the monsoon rains. Just imagine a carpet of around 500 species of flowers surrounded by snow-capped mountains, isn't it nothing less than a dreamland. The valley is home to the celebrated Bhrahmakamal, Blue poppy and Cobra Lily, along with orchids , calendulas , daisies, rhododendron. The fauna consists of tahr, snow leopard, red fox, many varieties of butterfly  and many other.

10. Lakshadweep
I have been to this tiniest UT of India, but cant wait to reach there again. Situated in the Arabian Sea , Lakshadweep's beauty can be attributed to its remoteness. Islands with creamy seashore and strewn by coconut trees, away from the outside world, provides the much needed tranquility, peace and the bewitching panorama. For adventure you have scuba diving, wind surfing, snorkelling, surfing, kayaking, canoeing, water skiing. What else does one need.

This list can never end. There are so so many places which we want to visit that choosing or prioritizing them is almost impossible.
Bon Voyage!!

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Swan

Birds have always fascinated me. They are one of the most beautiful creations of the Almighty. Beautiful with all the colors from an artist's palette they are epitome of art and perfection. Some like the weaver bird are expert architects while birds like koel are the greatest singer. Some are the greatest fliers like the albatross while some like "Birds of Paradise" should compete in beauty pageant. I can sit for hours  and watch documentaries on birds.
Though mesmerized by their beauty , I never attempted to paint any bird until today. I tried painting the swan today. Swans are definitely  one of the forerunners  in the beauty pageant. Elegant and beautiful they are symbol of devotion and purity. Do you know that Swan are monogamous? Oh yes they are .. partners for a lifetime.

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An apple a day

“Being the richest man in the cemetery doesn’t matter to me … Going to bed at night saying we’ve done something wonderful… that’s what matters to me.” Steve Jobs

Nothing much to say.. 
A visionary , a scientist, an entrepreneur  ,overall a great and complete person in all terms. Ironically I like many millions read the news on his IPAD.. 
He had said .. "I want to put a ding in the universe."  and he really did..
May you Rest In Peace..and a big thanks for all the Is

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School Days

Here at Texas , the summer vacations are over and the schools are reopening. Pretty late ha.. yes in India schools reopen by 1-2 July. Yesterday while we were out for a bit of groceries, we saw the huge shopping complex buzzing with children of all ages and their parents, all buying anything and everything remotely associated with school. There were "so-called" sales and discounts on all ACADEMICAL items. The scene made me smile and the memoirs of my school days came rushing into my thoughts.

The long summer vacation was always longed and welcomed. It started with the FINAL EXAMS and then the results. Either there was a month trip to my native or simply idling out. The mornings were cool , with cycling or morning walk listening to cooing of the koel. The afternoons were mainly a heart meal , and the doordarshan afternoon shows and some DIY projects of course. Evenings were either drawing classes or a visit to a friend's place(or vice versa) or games like "Hide and seek", "Land water", "Sithouli or pittuk" or simply "Pinky pinky what color" . Days flew away merrily.

 But soon enough the countdown for July started. The eagerness to meet old friends and make new ones flooded us. With the new class syllabus new books were bought, and with them came sets of new notebooks(or copies as we called them), pen pencils, geometry box and sometimes school bag. The books and notebooks were covered with brown paper and sometime polythene sheets. Oh it was such fun to select pretty name stickers (I loved the ones with Disney characters) , stick them on the notebooks and then write my name in the best calligraphic writing possible. Sometimes there were new uniforms as well. And just before the "school reopen" day, uniform was ironed , shoes polished , all the nail polish from nails removed, the bag was packed. Tomorrow would be a long exciting day, meeting old friends and teachers, finding who our class teacher and other subject teachers would be for this year, getting the time table, looking for the games and SUPW period in the timetable, sharing our lunches and stories of vacation during recess. Another year of studies and fun to embrace.

Oh!!! How much I miss my school days and my alma mater. Will miss you always St. Paul's School Gwalior and Christ Church Girls School Jabalpur.

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Miles apart

Sitting by the side of the pond , Amu was throwing pebbles in the water. She was in no mood of playing or climbing the trees to get ripe mangoes. Her friends had come to fetch her but she did not like their company right now. Her mind was travelling far far away into the distant unknown land , the land of luxuries , the land of freedom , the land where Priya belonged. Priya was the granddaughter of the erstwhile "Jamindar" (Zamindar) of their village. Although the Zamindari system had long been abolished , Roop Narayan Ray Chowdhuri was revered by all villagers. The Jamindar bari build on many many acres of land was magnificent, surrounded by jamun(gooseberry) and mango plantation. Roop Narayan's son Abhay Narayan Priya's father was working for an MNC(as told by Priya and Amu had no clue of what this was)and he , his family were living in Dilli. Priya had also told Amu that Dilli was the capital of Bharat but what exactly was a capital Amu could not understand. All she knew was the big town had buildings much much bigger than the magnificent Jamindar bari, and all people there were rich.



Every year Priya with her parents paid a visit to her dadu(grandfather) at Rampukur. The one month long vacation was always pure bliss. She loved the carefree , slaphappy village life. There were times when her parents stayed back at Kolkata, but she did not mind staying here. With no studies, just playing and wandering and her Dida's (grandma) recipes , she longed for this trip year long. She also longed for Amu. Amu's mother Sita was a helper(actually a servant) to Dida. Sita did almost all the household chores and helped Dida in the kitchen. Ma had told Priya that Amu was born the same day she was born. May be that was the reason why Priya and Amu had become best pals though they were from completely different societies. Priya had learnt a lot from Amu.. from swimming to climbing trees to making baskets from twigs and dried palm leaves to "how to read and write bengali". They spent their days picking the mangoes and jamun, swimming in the ponds, listening to the songs of koel, swinging on the banyan branch by the riverside. Sometimes Priya would steal some savories or delicacies for Amu, while at times Amu would bring aachar or jhaal muri(puffed rice) for her. They would get drenched in the rains or lie under the star studded sky locating constellations.


For Amu life would be wonderful during the sweaty summer days when Priya came to her Dadu's home. Although they were very rich and affluent, their doors were somehow never closed for Amu. Amu had many times crept into Priya's room .While others took their afternoon nap, she would amazingly peer into Priya's picturesque story books.Priya had taught her english alphabets so she could read the stories, but could not understand the meaning. Priya translated the stories to bengali for her. Priya would also bring gifts for her. Sometimes a story book, sometimes a sketchpen set or sometimes a doll. But what she(Amu) loved the most were the stories of the distant land, the tales of Priya's school, her friends and teachers, the fables of her tutions and dancing and drawing classes. She would be mystified to see the photos which Priya bought for her. The photos and the stories were her eyes to see Priya's wonderland. She wished one day she could see those with her own eyes.
.......
Priya was blankly gazing through the window of the Rajdhani Express. She with her family were heading for NewDelhi. From there they would leave for US in a week. Her father had got posted to the headoffice of his company. Her parents were very happy, but for Priya it was as if she was leaving a part of her at Rampukur. They said life at States was a lot busier with more of competition and more aristocracies. They would be moving to the land of Skyscrapers(as she had read in her GK book). Tears filled her eyes thinking she may never be back to enjoy the leisured life, with no studies and no classes and no competition.Life would be hell with no annual trip to her beloved village, no Dida - Dadu and above all no Amu. Oh how badly she envied Amu now, with all her(Amu's) freedom and a simple life.

Back at Rampukur, Amu was crying her heart out, her face hidden in her shabby cotton frock. Her only eyes to see the world outside Rampukur had left for a far distant land, a land which she would never see nor feel. A life which she enjoyed once a year, was taken away from her, a life full of stories and fairy tales , a life of knowledge and wisdom , a life which she did not have the right to live , that life would never be back. Now she felt jealous of Priya for the first time in her life.

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The story of a bengali kitchen

India is country of 28 states and 7 UTs and I can bet that the variety of recipes and cuisines is hundred times the mentioned figures. It is said that in India "With every 10 miles the dialect changes" and so does the cuisines.

Being a land of varied demographics our cuisines are signatured by spices , herbs not to forget the immense variety of vegetables and fruits and pisces (thanks to our long coastline and perennial rivers). We love cooking feeding and eating. Being the land of "वसुधैव कुटुम्बकम " , the food and cuisine has been influenced by the Aryans, Arabs, Mughals, British and Portuguese apart from our own culture and traditions. Be it veg or non-veg, we can lay down 100s of recipes of a single item.

I have stayed in many parts of my country and have devoured many regional recipes. My friends have treated me with the authentic recipes , delicacies and savories from their land. They are all "THE BEST". Every nook and corner of the country has something superb to offer on the pallet. So here's a sneak peak from my corner - a typical bengali kitchen.

Speaking of Bongs, we have three main interests: reading, travelling and ofcourse eating(or rather cooking). During the era of GrandMas, the meals took all their time, labour and ingenuity, from dawn to dusk. With us, leaving our homes in the morning for work returning post sunset, things have changed, but we still love to lay courses on weekends and holidays. And mind you, bongs have strict rules for cooking, serving and eating. The courses cannot be swapped , they always arrive on your plate in the age old sequence. The meal can be a veg,non-veg combination or a purely-veg( may be on a Pooja day)...Bongs refrain using onion garlic for pure veg dishes.

Till date on occasions like Bdays, pooja days or when the Jamai (Son-in-Law) visits, Mas and GrandMas prepare all the courses: 

We start with the

Teto(Bitter) . The teto can be Karela bhaja(fry) or Shukto(a curry of bitter guard with loads of other veggies ) or Neem begun Bhaja (tender neem leaves and very small cut brinjals fried).

Then should come the shaak (Saag). Can be anything from palak to methi to mulo (mooli ka saag) to laal shaak. Another rule : teto or shaak will be eaten only with rice not with roti , etc.

Then comes the Daal (lentils). It can be Chholar daal(bengal gram), masoor() daal , bhaja moong daal(the moong is first roasted) or Arhar daal. Beware again: the daal may taste a bit sweet , but we love it this way. The daal has to be served with some Bhaja(fried brinjal or potato or fish) or a ghonto . Now a ghonto is preparation of any finely chopped vegetable with some specified spices(we call it panchphoron). This is always a dry recipe. It can be badhacopi(cabbage) ghonto or moolo(mooli) ghonto or mocha(the flower of banana tree) ghonto or any other ghonto.

For a veg meal , this would definitely be followed by a daalna. A daalna is a recipe of any veggie this time cooked in a thick gravy with a hint of garam masala and ghee. Its usually a potol (parwal) or cauliflower or paneer.

Now comes the non veg part, the mutton or the fish or both. And the number of fish recipes can be more than one. We have a Machher Jhaal(hot fish curry), or Jhol(the gravy in this case is thin and not so hot) or simply the Bhape(Steamed in banana leaf).

Then walks out the chaatni(chutney) or Tok. The chaatni is the sweeter sister of north Indian chutney and usually made of tomatoes,raisins, raw papaya, pineapple, grapes, olives in combination or single. A tok is a thinner version usually made of tamarind or raw mango.

The meal finally culminates with the infamous dessert mishti doi.

Yes there always remains a tini mini place in the tummy for the paan to take care of all the hogging done..

Now ready for the siesta after the fiesta!!!

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The magic world of books

Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers.  ~Charles W. Eliot

I dont know when and how I had entered the unfathomable world of books and reads but it was quite early days. Those times it was not the so called "books and novels", but light reading of Champak, and comics "Billu", "Chacha Choudhary" and "Pinki"s. Ma wanted me to read the ones which were in Bengali or English but I always preferred the Hindi ones. Our train journeys were always consorted by Nandans and Champaks. 
My first date with English Literature was because of a dear friend who had gifted me a "Hardy Boys" novel. There was no looking back after that. The "Hardy Boys" and the "Nancy Drew" and then Charles Dickens occupied all my free times and with that came the unsatiable craving for more and more books. Those days I often dreamt of owning a library of my own, the library would have a nice cosy floor-sitting area , and would have books on ladder accessible shelfs , shelves which would touch the floor and reach the ceiling , books from all over the world, from encyclopedias to novels to poetry to comics. 
Then came the day of my rendezvous with Bengali Literature. It was just after my 10th board exams and I had no idea of how to spend the 3 months long vacation. Ma gave me the much acclaimed Bibhuti Bhushan Bandopadhyay's Pather Panchali(It was made into a film by the Oscar winning Director Satyajit Ray and was one of the greatest film ever made). After that my love for Bengali Literature too grew in leaps and bounds from Sarat Chandra Chatterji and other yesteryear writers to contemporary writers.Books are the best company I ever had(ofcourse after my parents, husband and good friends). They have made me laugh in bitter times and made me cry in good times. I get so addicted while reading a particular book that I feel like finishing the whole book at one go.
Here are some of my all time favorites, which I have read I dont know how many times:
1. Chander Pahar - the mountain of the moon (Bibhuti Bhushan Bangopadhyay)
2. Parineeta - Sarat Chandra Chatterji.
3. Diary of Anne Frank
4 The hound of the baskervilles - Sherlock Holmes (Arthur Canon Doyle)
5 The whole Harry potter series
6 Kite Runner - Khaled hosseini
7 Great Expectation - Charles Dickens
And many many more to add and add on.
With the latest technology, reading good reads is much easier and with the same "flipping and dog earing of pages" feeling of ebooks, what is only missing is the smell of the books. May be a time would come when the IT revolution would make that too possible(amen).

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At the end of Day. In the land of Dreams ..দিনের শেষে ঘুমের দেশে ..

Sun is breaking across the snow capped Kanchenjunga, throwing its first rays into the sleepy town of Ghum. So aptly named, Ghum(ঘুম "sleep" in Bengali) , this beautiful town of North Bengal is ever so sleepy. Mou had come with Sagar just after their marriage some 30 years back. They were completely enchanted by the beautiful tea gardens, the meandering Teesta, the serenity of the town and the innocence of the people. Sagar and Mou decided to come back and take root in this town in the evenings of their lives.

The evening had indeed come but without Sagar. As Mou sits in the easy chair in her balcony basking in the morning sun, sipping a cup of tea she remembers the bygone days.
Mou had just completed her BA when she got married to Sagar. Although being an arranged marriage , she always felt she had known him since time immorial.  It was his persuasion that she completed post Graduation and then went for a doctoral degree in English Literature. It was not easy with infant Sahil already into this world, but Sagar's immense support and help her conquer the battle. Soon she got a job of a lecturer and with time soon she turned a professor. Meanwhile Sagar climbed the steps of his success.But time could not erase the imprint of Ghoom on their minds and souls. It became a ritual to visit Ghoom whenever they visited Kolkata during vacations. The sleepy beautiful town gave them the much needed respite from their busy schedule. Soon Sagar and Mou decided to make a small house in Ghoom for their yearly refuge. But who would have known that Sagar would be able to enjoy his Dream home only a year. The cruel hands of destiny snatched him from Mou and Sahil. It was devastating for both of them, and for Mou the loss was boundless. But she had to compose herself for her 12 year old son. Fighting against all odds she tried her to give her son all the very bests. Time rolled on but their annual trip to Ghoom did not cease.
And it was during these trips that had brought a whole new meaning to her life. It was a morning like today's , and she was sitting in the balcony sipping tea as now. Sahil then a handsome grownup of 24 had gone for a morning stroll. Sahil was leaving for abroad in a month to study medicine. He never wanted to go, but it was his Ma's suasion that made him agree. Mou sat there wondering how she would live with Sahil gone to such a distant land. And there stood on her gate a young girl in her late teens, with clothes which were complete rags, and with a body shivering like a feather. She came up-to Mou and meekly asked if she could give her a job, any work for that matter. Mou was about to give a blunt NO , when something within stopped her. She looked at the girl intently. Somehow she knew the girl had just survived a cyclone. She asked her to come inside and gave her a cup of tea, and toasts. But the girl wont have it. Instead she cried and cried and cried. Within her sobbing and hiccups, all she could muster was she was sold by her uncle to some aged man for money and she was to be taken to some country for what she did not know(but Mou knew).  That was not the end of her plight. Back at her so called home in a small village a stone's throw from Dhoom, the orphan girl was molested by her uncle. She didn't have nerve to go back. Mou could see the truth and desperation in the girl's eyes. She did not have the heart to turn her away. Mita remained with her. Soon Sahil left for higher studies and Mita became her only companion at home. She would tidy the house, prepare the dinner , decorate flowers in the vase, and then wait for Mou to return from University. She started calling Mou "Mamoni" .Mamoni taught her to read and write. Though from a very poor family the girl had a flair for arts. She would prepare small decorative virtually out of nothing, would arrange the flowers with such beauty that the floral arrangements almost looked professional. Mita often told Mamoni she was very fortunate that Mamoni had given her this sanctuary, but there were many unfortunate girls in her village who were desolate and abandoned. And then Mou decided to take voluntary retirement and permanently move to Dhoom.
At Dhoom, with Mita to assist her she set up an abode for all helpless women and girls; Started off with just two of them , the abode has turned into a small scale industry for handicrafts and other art works. Mita looks after all the production work while Mou looks after all the official and financial stuff.
Meantime Sahil has settled abroad and wants to take Ma with him, but Mou refrains. She knows her true home is here ..in the land of dreams where every body calls her "Mamoni"..loving Ma 

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Tale of Many cities

Recently I was watching "Wake up Sid" the best part I liked about the movie was the Mumbai city and love for the city. Each city or town ..small or big , cosmopolitan or provincial, modern or Victorian each have its own lifeline, a heart beat.
During my 30 years on this planet I have lived in various cities of my country and now in a foreign land. All had a deep impact on my soul and life. Heres a short account of all the major cities of my life. Sorry friends for boring you, but earnestly I cant keep it very short.
Though I was born in "The City of Joy", I never lived there for more than a month. From Calcutta to Kolkata , once I was completely in love with this city, now I am not quite sure. Kolkata reminds me of  the "Howrah Bridge", the jhal muris , the crowded electric trains and ofcourse sweet nanihal. I still remember the sheer joy of the first glimpse of the Howrah Bridge during our annual Kolkata vacation when our train approached the Howrah Station. And grandparents' pampering with loads of hogging and tons of idling oh it was pure bliss. How badly I miss those days.
Next on the list of my habitats would be Jabalpur, the place where I first came out of my Ma's and Baba's lap, the place where I made my first friends of life and the place where I took my first step towards the unfathomable ocean of knowledge and education. I can not forget till death my alma mater "Christ Church Girl's School", nor the beautiful dhuandhaar and bhedaghat, the amazing "Balancing rock"(a rock balanced on another rock) ,nor simply the 8km commutation by rickshaw to school. Small and big nostalgias of this city keep haunting me time and again.
After a decade of stay at Jabalpur we moved to Gwalior.. the land of Tansen and also the Scindias. I owe to Gwalior a lot many things.. my education, start of my career, good friends, a flair for arts and many more. My school from 7-12 standard , my engineering college, the tutions , the colony, our rented house where we had stayed for 12 long years , its sun bathed courtyard, not to forget our best landowner Aunty Uncle, the annual Trade Fair which happens every Winters, the Gwalior fort where we had picniced hundred times,the market which is at the heart of Gwalior all beckon me. At first I never liked Gwalior, on the contrary I quite hated the city. I used to tell every other person that I would never miss it. But Gwalior summons me like no other place now.
While my parents moved to Delhi, I had to join my job at Mysore, so I never literally stayed at Delhi. Apart from the weekend trips to Delhi when I was located at Chandigarh, I never lived a Delhi life. And the weekends were just cloud nine with Ma's delectable recipes and drives to CP or sarojini nagar.
My rendezvous with Mysore just lasted for 3 months but it was the most beautiful. When Baba and I reached mysore, I can vividly remember how the gulmohar trees blooming with flowers and an overcasted sky welcomed us. Mysore is famous for it palace, the palace of Woyedars. This palace lits up with some 1000s of lights every Sunday at 7pm amidst the music of band , the scene is simply spectacular. The Infosys campus, its beautiful hostels, buildings, the adept housecleaning staff(who pampered us the fullest by doing literally everything.. from making our beds to cleaning the trash to sweeping the rooms spotlessly), the rains ravishing on our room's window , the midnight studies with the steaming cream roll and coffee from the pantry, the cycling after dinner, the weekend runaways to the mysore city and ofcourse some of my best friends I made there are all part of a fantabulous time spent there. I wish to take hubby atleast for once to this beautiful small sleepy city.
From mysore my job took me to Bangalore.The city of Gardens was my dream city once. Bangalore with its Malls and showrooms, its culture , traditions and modernizations is a true cosmopolitan. You will find sabji walas speaking in English and saree donned ladies working in top MNCs. MG road, Lalbagh, Infant Jesus church , ISKON temple and not to forget the Kormangala PG where I stayed for 1 and half years and where I had got some superb roomates  bring back to my mind the splendid bygone days.
Last but never the least comes is the city of Pune. This the city where I would love to settle down. This is the city where I had lived my life the fullest, did the craziest of things with my friends and roomates, wandered on the streets of Lakshmi Road and FC road to buy nothing and everything, watched movies back to back on weekends, got my first passion for cooking, spent invaluable time with kids of Aakansha(an NGO), got down from the bus in the middle just to grab the taste of a particular infamous roadside chicken biryani, or listened to FM on  the rain smeared Mumbai Pune Highway enroute to office, spent hours playing cards, scrabble , scotland yard and "Raja mantri chor sipahi", danced to the beats without knowing how to, the tea time snacks at Infosys foodcourt.. Pune I miss you so much. I thank all my friends for making my stay at Pune the most memorable.
Unlike many I wont be able to call a particular city my own but I tried to carve a niche in all the cities I stayed
The memories identified with all these cities are the sweetest and I dream of their revival time and again. As its said: “The axis of the earth sticks out visibly through the centre of each and every town or city.” 

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Rang Barse.....

Lal, gulabi, neela, pila hathon me liya samet,
Holi ke din rangenge sajni, kar ke meethi bhent......




Holi.. the festival of colors knocks at my door as I sit far very far away from home , remembering and missing my land once again.
Holi also called "Dhulendi" or "Dol Jatra" is a festival to celebrate unity, a festival to resolve differences , a festival to flirt as well. Celebrated on Phagun poornima it celebrates the victory of good over evil. We all know the story of Bhakt Prahlad.
Legends also say that once Lord Krishna had asked Yashoda why he was dark while his beloved Radha was fair. Yashoda facetiously told him to apply some color on Radha's face to make her dark. Krishna applied color on Radha's  face. Since then holi is celebrated as the remembrance of the divine love of Sreemati (Radha's another name) for her beloved Krishna.

Length and breadth of the country celebrates holi with much vigour. Some where like in Mathura its celebrated for 16 days, somewher its named the Lath Maar holi (in Barsana). Temples of Radha Krishna are decorated all over the country and holika dahan happens the night before holi. It is also celebrated in Nepal Srilanka.

Holi is celebrated as Vasanta Utsav (Spring festival) at shantiniketan. The great Nobel laureate  Tagore was so overwhelmed with the festival that it was started as an annual festival.  It is celebrated with a musical flavor. Students teachers all dress in yellow to greet spring. Colors made from palash flowers are used, there is music and dance and fiesta in the air.




As I see another holi pass through, I wait for the day, when we both will be back on our land getting drenched in colors of holi with our loved ones.


Wish U all a very happy holi..

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His Jasmine

Today Siddhant was the happiest man on earth. Jasmine had toped UPSC and she was selected for the Indian Foreign Service. Happiness crossed all bounds for Siddhant. The path till here was paved of perseverance , dedication and his and Jasmine's sacrifices and Aliya's wishes and blessings.
Aliya's favorite flower was jasmine. A quarter century back this very day, she had told him about their love coming into this world. Their marriage was not excepted by any body, but nothing mattered to them. And with the news of the new member, Siddhant could not ask for more. Life was so beautiful. But god had other plans. Aliya had just few breadths to hold her new born and whisper into Siddhant's ears her last words " Let her conquer her world", and the next moment she was gone. Life came to a standstill that moment for him, but he had to come out off it bravely only for the sake of their love.
Friends relatives all asked him to remarry, they all said "a girl needs a mom the most". But he proved them wrong. It was not easy bringing up the baby girl. Sleepless nights, tiring days , but he made it. It was joyous to watch her take her first step, and ecstatic to hear her first "PA", sometimes irritating when she made the same mistake in maths a 100 times, and embarrassing  to tell her how to deal with her monthly best friend. He was not successful at professional life, but he never felt sorry for that.Today she was the most beautiful successful woman of his world. Oh , how earnestly he wished Aliya to be at his side now, at this happiest moment.
For Jasmine, Pa was her life. She had grown up telling Pa everything ..her mischiefs, her fights, her applauds, her crushes. But when Arun came into her life, things changed. She started lying to Pa, to go out with Arun she gave excuses of friends. Somehow she did not dare tell him about Arun. With Arun everything was the best. It was as if she was a new person. They were the handsomest of couple in the university. But Arun did not have the courage or heart which her Pa had. He was too frail to stand up to his parents. As destined he dumped her. That night she cried her heart out on Pa's lap.And Pa didn't question. Somehow he knew all without telling. He just stroked her hair with the softest affection . If love hadn't given her such a blow, she would never have realized Pa's unconditional and selfless love. And probably she would never have fulfilled her, Pa's and Ma's dreams... dream to conquer her world. As she got up today to a beautiful day, she made a promise to herself that she would never marry, and a promise to build an abode for those Jasmines who are not fortunate to have a PAs and MAs.

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Life is beautiful

There she sat in the park watching her daughter Ananya play with Deep. Suddenly her eyes were flooded with tears. Today Payal was the happiest woman in the world, a sweet daughter , a loving and caring husband and a respectable vocation what else can one need in life. But ten years back she would have never dream t of such a life.

Born to a very orthodox family, Payal was the fifth daughter in a row. Because all were expecting a boy atleast this time, she was welcomed only by her mother. Within a year of her birth, her mother was again rushed to the maternity ward , but this time it was boy. Being the youngest daughter didnt help her much. Her mother was always occupied by the tantrums of her baby brother. The elder sisters were responsible for cleaning and feeding her and yes they showered all their love on her. But somewhere something was missing. At the age of two she got her first polio attack, no one would have a guessed what a meager fever would turn into. Three months later she landed up with a crippled leg. Things changed much after that.Her name became the irony of her life. She was confined indoors , could not run and play with her friends. Her only friends were her books. Thanks to her mother who fought for her to get her admitted in the same school as her brother, she surpassed all in studies. At the tender age of ten she wrote her first poem and never looked back after that. Payal dedicated her first novel to her mother.

And then one fine day, she had gone to one of her colleague's birthday party. Shy and introvert Payal sat at one corner admiring people laughing chatting dancing. And there in another corner sat Deep sketching the shy girl. For a flick of a second their eyes met and Payal felt her heart leap. The next second he was gone. Two days later they again met, this time in a local train. Accidently or intentionally they took the same train to their office. Friendship bloomed between the two. But Payal started drifting apart when she felt they were getting emotionally bonded. No she did not want to blemish his life. He was the only son. How could she mar the dream of his parents' .. the dream of a perfectly fit daughter in law. Neither did she want any pathos from Deep. She was resolute to live life on her terms with her head held high. But it was agonizing to keep away from him, to decline his requests to meet, to not pick up his calls. Days passed and the affliction of separation bore a mark on her. She had deeply loved him. Then one day Deep stood at her door knocking. He looked lean and tired. She could not help but beckon him inside. Payal's heart skipped a beat. She felt like hugging him tight, crying her soul out with her head on his broad shoulders. But no she could not afford to be weak. She stood there tight lipped waiting for Deep to speak out. And Deep spoke with a voice as wet as his eyes , "Payal.. accept me as a part of your life. May be you can live without me but I can not.". Somehow she could no more restrain herself. She dropped her head on Deep's lap and started weeping like a baby. She could never believe someone so good and adept like Deep would want her as his wife. Really love knows no bounds. And to her surprise Deep's parents accepted her with all their hearts. Perhaps they knew more than anybody else what would give Deep true happiness.
Ten years had passed since then. Payal gave a deep sigh. "Life is really beautiful" she murmured to herself. "Ananya would rise to the peak. She would carve a niche for herself ".. as Payal's mother had always dreamt for her, she dreamt the same for her daughter.

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To her with love

Today is 3rd of June. Two years back , this day Aru was with Meenal. It was her birthday and just 2 days later was Aru's birthday. Since last few years they had been celebrating both of their birthdays together on the same day. They had outed the whole day, had a beautiful candlelit homemade dinner. But today Aru is all alone. He has just returned from the Village hospital. Tired and exhausted he lies on the cot of his small quarter. He tries to dose off, but thoughts keep propping up. They had loved each other so much , rather he still loves her. But he is not destined to be married. He has more important aspirations. and he never blamed Meenal for leaving him. On the contrary he is very happy for her. Ma told him two days back that Meenal is getting married by the end of the year. The boy is an architect by profession settled in Pune. Good for Meenal , she does not have to leave her job.
Meenal and Aru were neighbors. They had grown up together. Although Aru was 3 yrs elder to Meenal, they were friends. They had never proposed each other but they and their families knew about their unfathomable love. Nothing could have gone wrong between the two, and nothing actually did. Meenal just after completing her engineering got a job in IT at Pune. She was waiting for the day when Aru would finish up with his medical studies. Love although unspoken was dreaming big in her eyes. But for Aru, life was moulding a different shape. With the complete of internship in a rural area, the truth dawned on him , the truth of how badly he is needed in these rurals. The plight of villagers suffering and dying because no doctor would come to a village , brought tears into his eyes. He decided to give up all his riches and luxuries of urban life for these poor souls. He was sure his parents would understand, and yes they did. But to tell Meenal was an agonizing pain. And she cried and shouted and yelled, but nothing could make Aru stay back. He never wanted her to come with him. Why should she sacrifice all for him to get nothing? No , he was happy that she parted ways. Two years have passed since then. Remembering all the nostalgias , Aru doses off.

The next day he wakes up to rural fresh air and chirping of birds. Suddenly last nights' thoughts make him sad. But then he rememberes he is here for a cause, he loves this village, its people their innocence. He loves it when he heals and cures them.This is a transcendental happiness.
After getting ready he reaches the small 2 room hospital.There is a hue and cry. The only nurse of the hospital is carrying tiny bundle in her arm. As Aru approaches the nurse, he is taken aback. It is an infant hardly a week old. Someone had left her on the door of the hospital. The moment Aru takes the baby in his arm, she smiles.Oh the moment is so divine. Aru gives a peck on the forehead and whispers "You are my Meenal"..

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Days of Udaans and Buniyaads

Today unknowingly (or maybe knowingly) I watched the silliest TV program. The program was all about mistrusting your spouse or girlfriend/boyfriend. Watching the program become unbearable for me only after few minutes, where hidden cameras and objectionable questions were peeking into the very personal life of a person. So this the state of shows and programs today. When at a single moment we have more than 200 channels to surf through at the click of a button , we hardly have any viewable programs.

Gone are those days, when we children waited for the Sunday to come. After all the homework and studies for the whole week, Sunday was a day of sheer TV watching and playing. The Sunday started with a steaming glass of milk and Rangoli. Then came the mom's sunday special breakfast with Ramayan/ Mahabharat followed by Junglebook or the likes. Afternoon were Regional Awarded Films with English subtitles, again in the evening a good sweet romantic movie or an art film. The dinner was definitely accompanied with the much awaited Surabhi. Who can forget the sweet Renuka Sahane and the debonair Siddharth Kak not to mention the Sawaal Jawab to top the pie. Weekday evenings were a fun too with family drama like Lifeline, Udaan , Buniyaad and many. All had a message to convey.I still remember the serial Udaan inspiring me so much that at a point I had decided to take IPS. There were educative programs like Turning point , Bharat ek Khoj , The world this week, etc and crime thrillers like Bomkesh Bakshi , Tehkikat , comedy like Ulta Pulta , Dekh Bhai Dekh,

children shows like Fairy Tales , Shaktimaan , duck tales and on and on and on ...... Who can forget the Swami of Malgudi Days, Pankaj Kapoor of Karamchand,Bhishma Pitamah, Krishna aka Nitish Bhardwaj of Mahabharata. They were the household names then. The cute ads of "Humara bajaj", the famous "Jalebi" ad of Dhara , "Kuch khas hai zindagi" cadbury ad till date bring a smile on our face. And how can we forget the small films of "Mile sur mera tumhara " , "Ek enek aur ekta"... Oh the days were so packed up with all these. Even the 15 min news was so much welcomed with newsreader like Sunil Tandon, Rinni Khanna.

Today we have loads and loads of Saas Bahu soaps where it takes no time to fall in love and no time to fall apart,where a single person gets married uncountable times, where the ladies don designer sarees and designer sindoors and cook, and where every third day the cast changes. The soaps never end and the 100 yrs old dadi never dies. We have reality shows bombing our drawing rooms and real life. People get married in shows and get divorced the next day. News is 24 hours and full of सनसनी news with no news. I sometimes wonder what will be the state of TV programs another 10 years or so. I wish (and I know all of us wish) that we could get the golden days of Doordarshan back, when there was just one channel and and just few hours of programs.

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Season of colors and festives

After a long time Iam writing, just finished off my mid-sem so felt like scribbling something.

This time of the year makes me very nostalgic: days of school, days of my childhood. After a year long wait for Durga Puja , the 4 day festival of a Bengali is back. Fragrance of shiuli phool (parijaat) in the air, cool morning breeze , cotton puff clouds in the sky,cool and pleasant evenings, lots of shopping for the 3-4 days outings ... all speak out loud and clear that Ma Durga is coming to her parental home. Yes thats what we bengalies believe: during Durga Puja Ma comes with her 4 children to visit her father's abode. She is welcomed with all grace ,warmth and extravaganza. From shashti through saptami,ashatami,navami starts the pooja rituals , pandal excursions, outings, donning the best of dresses and of course devouring the tastiests. Vijaya Dashami marks the departure of the deity back to her husband's home to come again the next year. With Vijaya Dashami starts the episodes of family get-togethers and trips to elders (if they are near) to offer our regards(pronaam).Its complete fiesta time. Wait for a fortnight and then we have Diwali the festival of lights. Houses adorned with Rangolis and lights and decorations invite goddess Lakshmi to bestow happiness and wealth on all households.

One of my friend used to say "Come monsoon and the 6 month long season of festival starts in India.. " and thats so true. Starting from rakhi , janmashtami , ganesh chaturthi to Durga pooja, diwali and finally Christmas and New Year, not to mention the Id and gurunanak jayanti which fall between. Ours is truly a land of festivals, fiestas and diversity.

Back in US , I was busy reading my text books during the Pooja but missing my home badly. I dont smell the sweet aroma of Shiuli but yes definitely the air has little festive spirit.. halo ween, Thanksgiving Christmas and New Year are all lined up. The trees are changing colors everyday and thats one beauty no artist can overlook, from green to pale green to red , then to orange . and then one fine day when you wake up you find a single leaf on the bare branches ready to fall off any time. Fall is really beautiful in US, but nothing can match the festivals of my country. Waiting to go back and celebrate all the festivals with all the grandeur....

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My First blog

So here goes my first blog.. this just the penning down of my thoughts..

Today it rained the whole day.. although the mercury has not yet scored high.. still it was a wonderful relief..

and with rains came running into my thoughts sweet memories of the rainy days of India..

During my school days.. I prayed earnestly for a rainy day.. and in those rainy days I still remember making paper boats and floating them in running streams of water.. My paper boat never made the journey as it got wet.. i had once even tried to make a boat from stiff plastic sheet(to prevent my boat from wetting n sinking), but the plastic boat never took the desired shape..

With rains came the season of hot pakodas.. Ma used to fry them in the rainy evenings n we three(Ma Baba n myself) huddled near the window.. devouring pakodas n Ma n Baba sipping steaming tea(tea was a total NO No for me during my school days).

We(Ma Baba n me ) had once made a trip to Amarkantak(Chattisgarh) during a rainy season.. The beauty of the rains of Satpura is still vivid. It had rained the whole day Cats n dogs.. and by evening there was complete power failure.. We in our hotel room's balcony were drenched in pitch darkness. The quietness of the dark night was broken only by the sound of the cricket(jhingur or jhijhi poka as we call it in bengali)from the nearby jungle. Oh it was such a beautiful night. We felt as if we were a part of some different world.. very far away from civilization..

Today as we(Arnab n myself now) were walking in the soft drizzle, we admired the blooms of spring..There are lovely beautiful flowers every where. But despite all its beauty something was missing .. the sweet smell of the earth.. the sweet fragrance which mother earth spreads when she gets drenched in the first rain of the season..

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